35. Rowan

35

ROWAN

R owan was a storm tearing through the village with all the fury of an unwilling sacrifice. It felt good to be taking action instead of waiting for her life to happen to her, and regardless of how things turned out, she felt immense gratitude to Conor for empowering her. The only way out was through, so she walked into town, dragging the Dark Wood behind her.

Rowan, Conor, and Charlie clamored into the town square. People ran screaming in different directions, fights breaking out on every street corner. It was complete chaos, and at the center of it all, the Elder Tree was burning.

"I always hated that thing," Rowan said dryly. It was macabre to have a tree transplanted from the Dark Wood that bled whenever a Red Maiden died. "Maybe it's time for some old things to burn."

She shook her head, looking back at the chaos. "All of this because people were afraid of the blight. All of this hurt, all of this loss. Will men never cease to spread misery rather than dealing with their own hurts?"

Finn burst around the corner like a storybook hero in his white tunic and golden cloak embroidered with the symbol of the Mother and surrounded by the flames of the burning village. He looked more vital than he had at Maiden's Tower, as if something supernatural bolstered him and, taking in his new regalia, Rowan wondered if the Mother was close by.

Finn's cheeks were smeared with soot, and his hand was poised on the hilt of his sword, ready to stand and fight. He stopped short when he saw Rowan's hand in Conor's.

Finn swallowed hard. "You have to stop destroying the town. I'm not your enemy, Rowan. I'm on your side, but this has gone too far."

"And what side is that?" she asked. Some foolish part of her held out hope that he could really learn—that he'd somehow see the error of his ways and actually listen to her for once—that he'd seen the violence in the tower and would fight for what was right instead of upholding more outdated ideas and principles.

"The side of what's good and right," Finn replied.

"You mean the side who let me walk into the Dark Wood to service the god of death? The side who unnecessarily kept me from having a family and friends? The side who let a mob of people kill a ten-year-old girl out of some mistaken sense of duty?"

The Elder Tree shuddered in response to the anger that rose in Rowan. Finn looked from her to the tree in confusion. She wanted so badly to display her strength for the man who'd refused to think of her as anything other than someone who needed saving, but she reminded herself that he had fought for Aeoife.

She pitied Finn. He'd never bothered to break the mold their world cast for him. She'd tried to make him see, and he'd still insisted he knew what was best. He thought it was well-meaning, even while ignoring how patronizing it felt to be on the receiving end of his good deeds.

Conor squeezed Rowan's hand. "I assume you're the one who wanted to take my lovely Rowan from me," he said to Finn.

Finn drew his sword and took a step toward her and the Wolf. Rowan had to hand it to Finn—he was as brave as he was stupid.

"May I, love?" Conor kissed her hand tenderly.

"Take what you need," Rowan whispered.

Conor tugged on her magic, and she let it go. The sweetest melodic magic buzzed through them as their power married in a glowing blueish light that flowed between them with ease.

"Rowan, stop! What are you doing? He'll kill you!" Finn's panicked shout rose above the melody.

Conor gently drew his hand away. He cupped Rowan's face in his hands. "Are you all right?"

She smiled up at him. "I feel fine."

"Charlie?" Conor called without turning away from Rowan.

"She looks just as bright as always," Charlie confirmed.

Conor's shoulders relaxed and he pulled her into a kiss. Relief flooded Rowan's body, pulsing out through her limbs. She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer. Their plan was very risky. It relied heavily on speculation. If this was their last kiss, she wanted to make it good. She lost herself in the feeling of his hands on her, the whiskey taste of him, and the warmth and love that tingled in her body.

Finally, Conor drew away. "I hope you're not trying to kiss me goodbye, love," he whispered.

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "I like to be prepared for anything. There's more where that came from later."

Conor chuckled. "I'll hold you to that." His smile was a beautiful threat that she hoped he delivered on.

"Go. I can handle Finn," she said, waving her hand.

Conor hesitated. She knew he wanted to protect her, but she also knew she'd made the right choice when he nodded and left her to take care of herself anyway.

She turned back to face Finn. "Finn, please just go. I do care for you. Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I still don't want anything bad to happen to you. I know you tried to save Aeoife. I know that you're a good person at your core, even if you lack imagination."

"You want to destroy our world. Our way of life!" Finn barked.

"I do." She nodded.

"But this is my city—my life, Row."

"Yes," Rowan started, "a whole city of people who were happy to have me hold up their world on my back. I've tired of doing so, and I'd like to make a world where that responsibility is shared among all instead of those born unlucky enough to become a sacrifice. I refuse to go willingly to my death for those who wouldn't give me a second thought. I will be the last Red Maiden."

"Rowan, I know you were unhappy, but this—" Finn looked around at the flaming buildings and overgrown forest. "This isn't you."

Her laughter turned bitter. "And who am I, Finn? Do you even know? My whole life has been struggle to crush the largeness in me down so that it could fit into the shadow of my responsibilities. You can't pretend to understand that. You got to choose your path. You had the privilege of money, access, training, time. I only had the ability to see and talk to the dead. I was ripped away from my family and treated as an object my whole life."

"I never treated you that way," Finn insisted.

"You didn't?" she asked. "Did you ever even ask me if I wanted to marry you? You just assumed that I was a poor little curse girl who would be would be delighted with your charity. You didn't care about what I wanted and you only liked me weak."

Finn looked stricken. "That's not true."

"Then fight for me now. Trust me to know my own mind. Trust that I don't want to be saved. I only ever wanted an opportunity to save myself."

"But you had one!" Finn shouted. "You could have killed him. It's all you had to do, Rowan."

She shook her head. Apparently the Mother had shared her plans with Finn. "And then what? The world requires balance, Finn. You can't just have no god of death. There would be a new god of death—one who killed Orla and tried to kill me twice, so I killed him instead. But now there isn't a good option. Thanks to the Mother."

Finn paled at her words. "He tried to kill you?"

"Not Conor. The vampire, Valen, whom she wanted to take my power and Orla's so he could overthrow Conor. The Mother is not who she wants us all to believe. She's losing power, and she's just trying to find a way to steal it from the Wolf. The Mother is causing the blight in your orchards. It's just a way for her to cultivate your alliance and influence in town."

"That doesn't make sense," Finn said, though she saw the hint of doubt in his eyes.

"Doesn't it? The new religion in the north is affecting both of them. Gods get their power from faith. The fewer people that believe in them, the less power they have. The less they can control, the less people believe in them. It's a vicious cycle. So she's been stealing from the Wolf. He's held his power, because what does everyone believe in and fear more than death? She's found small ways to siphon off his power through the monsters in his Dark Wood, who give some of it back to her. Now she's floundering because I killed her little minion."

Finn shook his head in disbelief, but Rowan could see the cracks in his resolve.

"Think about it, Finn. You're smart. You've always been a believer, and I know how hard it is. Trust me. No one was more disappointed than I was to find out her promise of salvation was just a twisted game," Rowan said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

A bright flash of light burst in front of them, blinding Rowan temporarily. When her eyes adjusted, the Mother stood between her and Finn with Cade at her side. She wore a golden gown with a shiny gold breastplate and sword at her hip, her blonde hair pinned on top of her head in a crown of curls.

"My dear, it seems you've failed us again," the Mother chided. She shook her head as if Rowan refusing to kill the Wolf was terribly naughty.

"I couldn't do it," Rowan said. "And I'm not sorry. Maybe I should have, but there has to be another way."

"Oh, you sweet, foolish, sheltered girl, there is no other way," the Mother said. "I really thought you were the one, Rowan. I could tell the first time I laid eyes on you that you had a tenacity, a fortitude that all the others lacked. Beyond that, I knew you were a bitter little thing."

Rowan's anger flared like a bonfire in her chest. Her gaze flicked to Finn, who stood to the Mother's right, before landing on Cade, who stood to her left.

"You know, I expected it of Finn, but not you, Cade," Rowan said bitterly.

"Sorry, Row. You have multiple shots at redemption, and I only have one," Cade sighed.

Rowan tried not to be disappointed, but that was the thing about letting people close; you gave them the means with which to wound you. She had to take the bitter with the sweet.

Finn shifted beside the Mother. Rowan could practically see the gears turning in his head. He was clearly uncomfortable with the Mother befriending a demon and even more uncomfortable that he could now see said demon.

Rowan almost laughed. All she'd wanted most of her life was for others to see Cade so she didn't have to constantly pretend she didn't see or hear him. Now she wished he'd go away.

Instead, Cade stepped forward and grabbed her. She tried to pry her arm from his grip, but it was no use. She was stuck. She prayed that what she'd passed of her power to Conor would be enough. She wasn't certain where her prayers floated off to, but she hoped Conor would somehow hear them.

"Now Finn, my brave warrior. Tell me how the Wolf pulled from her," the Mother said. "Short-sighted of me not to realize you could be a constant source of power."

Horror squeezed the air from Rowan's lungs. The Mother wanted to steal Rowan's power. The goddess had always been driven by power. Rowan should have anticipated the move sooner and made herself scarce.

Finn hesitated, his eyes flashing from the Mother to Rowan. "He just took her hand and then…" He trailed off as his eyes met Rowan's.

"This is your shot, Finn. You can make a difference. You want to save me so badly? Shut your stupid mouth," Rowan said, gesturing to the surrounding chaos.

All around them, huntsmen were engaged in fights with Conor's reapers. There was the clang of metal against metal and grunts of pain, and the air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood.

Finn stared at the ground.

"What's a matter, lover boy?" Cade taunted. "All those proclamations. I guess it's easy to make big promises when you think no one else is there to hear them. I heard you promise to protect her, but actions speak louder than words. Especially when it comes to letting the woman you proclaim to love be sucked dry of her power by the Mother."

The Mother grimaced at Cade. "What are you doing, you little devil?"

"I'm reminding this idiot that actions speak louder than words and past mistakes. He claims to want a chance to be a hero, but every time it's handed to him on a platter, he tosses it away," Cade quipped.

Rowan saw it—the moment that Finn decided to be who he always should have been. His eyes locked on hers and his throat bobbed. He didn't need to say it for her to know he was sorry.

He swung his sword suddenly, but the Mother anticipated the move. Throwing out her hand, she blasted Finn back with a bright ball of light. He landed several yards away, unconscious.

Rowan turned to run, but the Mother appeared suddenly in front of her.

"I'm not a prisoner you want to take," Rowan warned. She'd never felt such a sense of certainty. A new idea bloomed in her mind.

"We'll just see about that, won't we?" the Mother taunted. She tore the sleeve of Rowan's dress and cloak, gripping her skin.

Rowan shoved at the Mother, trying to escape her loud cacophony of magic. The goddess's hand burned into her forearm, scalding her skin. All around them, reapers fought off huntsmen, but Conor was nowhere in sight.

The vicious ache in her arm honed Rowan's focus. She just needed to hold out a little longer until the Mother was distracted. She hoped that Sarai and the Crone were close.

Rowan stopped fighting the tug of the Mother's magic. Instead, she let hers slip. She reached into the vibrant, angry chaos of the Mother's magic and tugged—hard.

The Mother's eyes went wide in shock as her magic rushed into Rowan. It burned all the way down like her body was full of a vicious poison, but she didn't let go.

The Mother took a step back, but Rowan clamped her hand down, holding fast to the goddess.

A flurry of movement to her left drew her focus. Conor stepped out from the shadows like a dark knight in his hunter-green tunic and leather breastplate. The space between them was too great. There were dozens of huntsmen engaged with Conor's reapers scattered throughout the square between them. He shouted something that she couldn't hear but still knew what it was. Let go.

Rowan locked eyes with Conor over the melee—the pain on his face a mirror of her own. They were out of time, and they both knew it.

She had known the moment would come. She simply hoped it wouldn't be so soon. Time had always been her most limited resource, and she'd desperately tried to fit as much as she could into what little she had. The rapid passage of it had stirred panic in her when she was younger, but now that she had even more to lose, a strange calm settled in her stomach.

Chaos reigned around them, but between Rowan and Conor, there was only the stillness of knowing something dreadful and imminent. A single moment stretched out between them, suspended by the weight of their desire. Perhaps loving someone so much made small moments larger. All the love and joy and loss—every sweet thing, every anger, every heartbreak—and a desperate longing for more filled that moment until it was bursting at the seams.

Rowan reminded herself it would never have felt like enough. Enough was a concept Conor lived outside the boundaries of.

She'd spent her life in the shadow of an hourglass, trying to grasp the moments as they slipped through her fingers like sand, so she'd filled what little time she had with small rebellions and little connection so it wouldn't be too hard to disappear. All of that, and it still didn't seem like enough.

It wasn't that she wanted things to be fair. Fair was a child's word. The world was a cruel and inequitable place, and it didn't owe her anything, and she wasn't foolish enough to ever expect fairness. Still, she felt that she'd sacrificed more than most.

But magic was a thing that required balance, and she felt betrayed by that concept as every bit of favor seemed to land on the Mother's side.

Perhaps it would have been easier if she hadn't fallen for Conor, if she and Sarai were content to sit prettily in their roles, pawns for a society that was happy to trade them and their futures in exchange for peace of mind.

Conor nodded to Rowan, and she tried to smile but only succeeded in frowning as she let go of the Mother and stumbled back.

He charged toward Rowan, stepping between her and the Mother just as a shout stole Rowan's attention.

"Rowan!"

She spun and found Sarai, who was gesturing wildly. A flood of people was making its way up the street. "New refugees! Several boatloads! Give them a good show!"

Rowan nodded, turning her attention back to Conor and the Mother, who were trading vicious magical blows. Conor's glowing blue magic clashed with the Mother's golden light.

On the far edge of the square, several elders knelt, their heads bowed in prayer. Rowan tugged on her magic and had them strangled with Dark Wood vines, but it was too late. They'd given the Mother the advantage, and she had her hands around Conor's throat. She was pulling the power right out of him.

"Sorry, Con. It's been a long time coming. This is a whole new world, and there will be only one now," the Mother said with a vicious smile.

Rowan charged toward her, her dagger in hand, and the Mother laughed.

"I'm doing you a favor. What on earth am I taking from you, you ungrateful little brat?" she growled.

"You're trying to take my husband," Rowan said.

"Husband?" the Mother said as her eyes snapped to Conor.

One moment of disorientation was all Rowan needed. She plunged the dagger into the Mother's chest. The goddess let out a keening wail.

"Now, Sarai!" Rowan shouted over the noise. She tugged on the Dark Wood, and it pinned the Mother in place with roots and vines.

Sarai dashed forward with her mother on her heels. She placed a hand on the goddess's back and the other on the former Crone's chest. Conor scrambled beside them, pressing his hand to Sarai's back.

A loud, sweeping symphony of magic whirled up through the air, drowning out everything else. Rowan stumbled back as she covered her ears against the assault. Conor steadied her with his free arm as they watched the transfer of power unfold.

The Mother howled as Sarai spoke in a hushed tone, pushing the goddess's power into her own mother. A golden light grew around the three of them, pulsing until it was so glaring Rowan had to shield her eyes.

After a few long, blind moments, the melody of the magic ceased, and Rowan blinked her eyes open. Conor stood panting next to a wide-eyed Sarai and a glowing Crone Mother.

The former goddess appeared to collapse in on herself. She aged before their eyes, crumpling inward as if her bones were deteriorating right beneath her skin. "How?" she rasped as she writhed on the ground. "I should have just been able to use you. How did you figure it out?"

"Death is just the pause before life starts again. Life and death were always made of the same magic," Rowan said. "It made sense that if you could create a new Wolf, he could create a new Mother."

With one last huff, the goddess disintegrated into ash before their eyes.

The new Crone Mother looked to Conor.

"The nightmare is still gone?" she asked.

Conor closed his eyes and a blue aura swelled around him. After a long moment, his shoulders relaxed, he opened his eyes, and nodded.

The Crone Mother's relief matched his.

"Did it work?" Rowan asked Sarai. "Did we break the world?"

Her friend grinned as her gaze fell on the former Crone. "I think we broke it. What do you think, Crone Mother?"

Sarai's mother, the new goddess, the Crone Mother, turned to look at Rowan. "It seems you could see what the rest of us couldn't. Thank you for not giving up on us, even when we gave up on you."

"Now what?" Sarai said. She turned and tipped her head toward the wide-eyed refugees filling the square.

"I think you're supposed to tell us that, O wise one," Rowan taunted. "What's the new bargain? How do we rebuild?"

Sarai took a few breaths, turning to face the murmuring crowd as Conor made his way to Rowan.

He stood in front of her, looking bruised and exhausted, but he was still standing, and so was Rowan. She threw herself into his waiting arms, and he rained kisses all over her face and held her close.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rowan saw the confusion of the crowd gathered in the streets. They seemed shocked to see the Wolf showing such tenderness, especially toward a Red Maiden. They gave her and Conor a long look, their eyes narrowing in puzzlement as they took in her tattered red cloak and Conor's ominous presence.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Rowan whispered, brushing Conor's hair back from his forehead. "It's a good thing you love me."

"I'm not the hero, love. You are," Conor laughed.

"Ugh, I'm glad we won and all, but you two are becoming insufferable," Charlie griped beside them.

Rowan grinned and kissed Conor again before turning to face Sarai. Her friend gave her a questioning look, but she just waved her hand, encouraging the new Crone to address the people.

Sarai turned to the crowd. "Be well, be well, all. I am the Crone of Ballybrine, and I'll be taking my rightful place once and for all as the voice and scribe of the Mother's scriptures. The elders are no more. The power of prayer has been given back to you, the people. I will be here for counsel and to hold the weekly Gratitude and Grieving Ceremony, but the rest of your devotion belongs to you. We'll return to the old ways."

It was exactly as they'd planned. Sarai turned and took Conor's hand in one of hers, the Crone Mother's in the other.

"Behold a new deal between gods," Sarai continued. "The goddess above—the Crone Mother—and the god of death—the Wolf. They hold the balance between them. The keys of life and the keys of death. Both are important. Both agree to uphold the balance; to seek no more than the necessary power; to keep us all safe from threats both living and dead."

She met Rowan's eye, and Rowan nodded.

"Our last Red Maiden is gone. The passage of the dead will be managed by the god of death and Lady Rowan Cleary. Together they will lead the souls of the departed to rest," Sarai said. "As long as you believe you'll have protection and peace."

The people murmured among themselves before several of them folded their hands across their hearts and held their hands out in a sign of reverence. Several fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

"The fight is over. The Dark Wood will recede to its former borders, and as long as you stay steady and faithful, we will thrive together," Sarai said. "Please, if you can spare the space and resources, we have new refugees and people who need shelter while we rebuild."

The people nodded faithfully and pushed forward to brush their hands over Sarai's and the Crone Mother's and, to Rowan's surprise, hers and Conor's as well. Conor looked stunned by the recognition, and she supposed it made sense. For the first time ever, the people saw him not as a monster but as a necessary balance in their world.

Rowan studied her husband's stunned face as the people murmured their appreciation. After a long while, the crowd dispersed, and people turned back to town to rebuild and take in the new refugees.

As the crowd grew thin, her eyes fell on Cade. He walked toward her, pausing tentatively a few feet away.

"I'm really sorry, Row," he whispered. "I wanted to tell you what I was for so long, and even more than that, I wanted to save Aeoife."

Her demon friend looked uncharacteristically emotional.

"She was a sweet girl, and I miss her already," he said.

Rowan nodded, blinking away tears. "I'm sorry that you didn't get what you hoped for."

"It's all right. There are worse fates than being what I've always been. I just feel bad for letting you down. Do you think—" Cade swallowed hard. "Do you think we could go back to being friends? I know I don't deserve your trust, but I miss you."

Rowan knew she needed to forgive him. It wasn't his fault he couldn't save Aeoife from an angry mob.

"Love," Conor said, placing a hand on her back. "It can be very compelling when someone offers you a way out of the pit. Perhaps give him another chance."

Rowan frowned. "Magnanimous of you."

All of them did their best, and still, they'd all failed in their own ways. It cost them all something, though it cost Aeoife the most.

Rowan nodded.

Conor took a step toward Cade. "I'd like to extend an offer for you to join my reapers. It wouldn't make you good, but it would make you neutral and give you something productive to do with all your energy."

"I'd be honored," Cade said.

Conor placed a hand on Cade's forehead, and a soft blue glow flowed from his hand into Cade's skin. A swell of hushed whispers rose as a blue aura formed around him. His eyes glowed a pale blue color before settling back to their usual hazel.

"Charlie, you'll show him back and get him settled?" Conor asked.

Charlie nodded and led Cade away from the gawking crowd.

"I'm tired of being stared at. Let's go home," Rowan whispered, leaning her head against Conor's chest.

"Now, my love, as I remember, I told you that I would make this marriage official on the altar of the Temple of the Mother if we made it out of this alive, and I'm nothing if not a man of my word." Conor grinned.

Rowan arched an eyebrow. "Well, if you insist. It might no longer be my job, but I'd still prefer to keep the Wolf happy."

"And I you," he said, sweeping her up into his arms as she laughed and carrying her back toward the wreckage of the Temple of the Mother.

Rowan leaned her head against Conor's shoulder and smiled to herself. She'd broken every rule and lived in full rebellion, and she'd been lucky enough to live to tell the tale. She'd make the most of her life for Orla and Aeoife and every Maiden that came before them. She made a silent promise to herself that she'd stay wild enough for all of them.