Chapter 12

Rowan

I’VE NOT BEEN ABLE TO get Aurora Silvermoon out of my head. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I tasted her naked skin beneath the moonlight, yet it feels as though it’s been days, weeks, years since I last saw her.

What have I gotten myself into?

I look down at the sunflowers held in my hand. I purchased them from a traveling merchant in the town square, thinking they looked happy, like Aurora.

And now I’m walking a dirt path, trying to locate her cottage, which one of the locals told me is at the end of Brookside Road. I found the signpost—it was slightly askew and partially hidden by shrubbery, but the bright yellow words painted on it were hard to miss—and now I’m putting one foot in front of the other, questioning myself the whole way.

Aurora was with the carpenter at the festival, yet she made love to me with abandon. I don’t know what to think, won’t know what to think until I talk to her. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

Even if the sight of her cottage at the end of the lane frightens me more than riding into battle for the glory of Wysteria. Who knew one small woman could be so terrifying.

Just like the words painted on the signpost, Aurora’s cottage is a sunny yellow. The windows are open, and I can just barely see the pale drapes billowing inside in the breeze. Already, something about the cottage feels comforting, welcoming, like anyone who stops here will be gifted a dozen cookies and a kitten in a basket.

Not that I’d turn them away. I love kittens. And cookies. But I’m partial to kittens.

Movement on the porch catches my eye. It’s a white cat sitting on the railing, long tail swishing back and forth. It looks at me closely, green eyes vibrant against its snow-white face.

“Hey, kitty.” Worries momentarily forgotten, I approach the cat, hand held out.

But before I can touch it, it leaps off the rail, sails down the porch stairs, and sprints around the side of the cottage. I’m still standing there, feeling a bit dejected, when a soft voice drifts to me on the warm breeze.

“Who’s here? The knight ?”

My chest squeezes tight. I know that voice. It’s Aurora’s voice.

But who’s she talking to?

Gathering up my courage— I’m a knight, for goodness’ sake —I walk toward the side of the cottage, following the path the cat took. And as I step around the corner, a beautiful garden bursts into view.

Followed by a woman with green eyes and hair to match.

“R-Rowan,” Aurora says, lifting a hand to her floppy brown hat as she stands from beside a raised bed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

I follow the path to the garden gate, my eyes going wide as I step into what looks very much like a jungle in the middle of Faunwood. The garden boxes are overflowing with all manner of plants—tomato vines not yet weighed down with fruit, onion greens stretching toward the sun, spinach leaves that look plush and soft enough to make a bed upon.

Aurora must’ve cast a spell over this garden, for none other in Faunwood is nearly so abundant as this.

“Wow,” I whisper, turning in a circle. Everywhere I look, plants and flowers dance in the light breeze, and the low hum of bees lends a pleasant ambience to the space. “This is”—I turn to look at Aurora, and only one word comes to mind—“beautiful.”

Immediately, her freckled cheeks flush a warm shade of pink. I only now take notice of her grass-stained skirt and the smudge of dirt on her nose, but I opt not to tell her. It’s much too charming, and she’ll surely wipe it away.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

My eyes track down to the white cat sitting at her feet. Was the cat the one she was talking to?

“How’d you know it was me?” I ask.

She blinks, then casts her gaze to the cat. “Harrison told me.”

Harrison. I thought so. And that confirms that Aurora is a witch, as I suspected from the first time I saw her green hair. In all my years, the only women I’ve ever known to have colorful hair are witches—and they often have companions as well, which I’m assuming Harrison to be.

At least that’s one question answered. But it’s not the one I came to ask.

I hold up the sunflowers, and Aurora’s eyes widen. “I hoped I could entice you into going for a walk with me.”

“Do you mean to trade the sunflowers for my time?” she asks, lips quirking up.

“Precisely.” I chuckle, averting my eyes from hers for a moment lest she make me burst into flame. “What do you say?”

A breeze catches Aurora’s long braid, and a few tendrils of hair sweep across her cheek. She looks down at the flowers in my outstretched hand, then back at me. Just being in her proximity makes me feel like I’m standing atop a mountain in a lightning storm, like any moment now a bolt of white-hot light will come streaking out of the sky and strike me right through the heart.

But in a good way, of course.

“I say...” She steps forward, and when she takes the sunflowers from my hand and her fingers brush mine, I swear my hair stands on end from her electricity. “It’s a fair trade.”

She lifts the sunflowers to her nose and draws in a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed. Then Aurora scurries into the house to place the sunflowers in a vase of water, and I’m left standing outside with Harrison.

“Will you let me pet you?” I ask him, holding out my hand again. But for the second time, he runs off, and this time his rejection definitely feels like I took an arrow right through my chest plate. Funny how cats can do that.

When Aurora returns a moment later, she’s removed her floppy hat and her hair is free of its braid, all wavy and hanging past her elbows. Thankfully, she’s still got the dirt smudge on her nose. It’s just too damn cute.

“Where would you like to walk?” she asks.

“You tell me.” I cast my eyes to the trees towering over her cottage. “I don’t know these woods yet.”

Aurora gets a little smile, her lips pulling up in the corners. “I know just the place.”

We set off into the trees together. As we walk, I try to shorten my strides to match hers, and I’m looking down when I realize she’s barefoot—and now that I think about it, she didn’t have boots on at the Beltane festival either. Seeing her tiny toes pressing into the grass reminds me of the way they curled on the tree stump while I tasted her.

I’m tight in my trousers now and have to clear my throat in an effort to banish the image from my mind.

“Do you always walk barefoot in the woods?” I ask by way of distracting myself.

Her laughter is light and free. “I try to. I go barefoot as early as I can in the spring and stay this way until late in the fall.” Pausing, she closes her eyes, her toes wriggling in the grass. “I feel her better this way.”

I furrow my brow. “Who?”

One of Aurora’s eyes opens, and she smiles. “Mother Earth. Here, try it.”

Before I can stop her, she’s kneeling before me, unlacing my sturdy boots and yanking them off my feet. The next thing I know, I’m standing with my bare feet on the ground. It’s colder than I thought it’d be, and the grass is still a bit damp with dew despite the time of day.

“Close your eyes,” she says.

All I want to do is stare at her, but I oblige, closing my eyes. “Now what?”

“Try to be still. Feel the earth under your feet. If you listen close enough, you might just feel her heartbeat.”

“If I listen , I might feel her?”

She giggles, and in the darkness, it sounds like fairy music. “You know what I mean. Listen to the earth and what she’s saying. Now hush. Just try it.”

The air smells sweet and warm as I breathe it in, and then I let it out in a long breath. I still myself, not so unlike the way we’re trained for the guard. Even combat can be like a dance, a flow of energy from the center of your chest to the gleaming end of your sword.

It takes a moment, and maybe I’m just imagining things, but I think I feel a tingling in my feet, a rhythm like the way the snow arrives in winter and rain pours down in summer. A flow like the waves across the shore, like the return of the barn swallows each spring and their departure each fall.

“I... think I feel her,” I whisper, eyes still closed.

“Whenever I feel that my insides are moving too fast, like I can’t sit still or can’t focus,” Aurora says, “all I have to do is place my feet on the ground, and I find my balance again.”

My eyes are still closed when I feel a gentle touch on my hand. Aurora’s fingers intertwine with mine, and whether I’m grounded on the earth or not, my heart starts to race.

When her hand is firmly clasped with mine, I open my eyes. She’s standing close to me, her head tipped back. She’s near enough that I could count the freckles on her nose, could chart them like constellations in the night sky.

I give her hand a little tug, and as she takes a step forward, I bend to press my lips against hers. She tastes like lavender and honey, and her scent is earthy, probably from working in the garden. Beneath my mouth, her lips are soft and warm.

She pulls away from the kiss and lifts a hand to trail her fingers through my hair.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.

And even though I’m a grown man, she makes me blush.

“That’s my line,” I say, then press a kiss to her forehead. “Now, where are you taking me?”

“This way. It’s not much farther now.” Still holding my hand, she starts leading me into the forest once more.

I pause to grab my boots from where she discarded them in the grass, and then we proceed. Overhead, birds sing in the trees, and all manner of tiny forest creatures scamper about our feet. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many small animals in the forest before; somehow, I think they’re here because of Aurora, like they’re drawn to her in some way.

Witch , I remind myself.

Looking over at her, with her wavy green hair drifting around her face and her skirt brushing through the long grass, I can understand why the woodland creatures would want to be in her presence.

Aurora leads me to a thick growth of old oaks, and she giggles when my hair gets caught in a low thin branch. With gentle fingers, she untangles my hair from the tree, then presses a kiss to my temple before leading me into a sunlit grove.

As soon as I step into the clearing behind her, my mouth opens with an awed sigh.

Sunlight fills the clearing, dusting everything it touches in gold. Rather than real life, it feels like I’ve stepped into an artist’s painting of the fairy realm. At any moment, I expect sprites to come drifting up and out of the long grass. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Aurora probably dances with them beneath the moonlight.

Aurora moves to stand in the center of the clearing. I remain where I am, watching her. The golden sunlight turns her hair a lighter shade of green, and it makes her sun-touched skin almost glow.

Maybe she’s the sprite, the fairy queen. I’d be easily convinced. The thought makes me smile.

Aurora takes a seat in the meadow, and a puff of pollen goes up around her. She collapses back into the grass, spreading her arms out like she’s making an angel in fresh-fallen snow. I join her, settling down beside her, letting the warm grass wrap around me as I lie back to look up at the sky.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“This was my auntie’s special place. She used to bring me here when I was a girl.” She sighs softly. “I’m not sure anyone else knows about it.”

“Yet you showed it to me.”

Shifting, Aurora turns onto her side, and I do the same, propping my head on my arm so I can gaze down at her.

“I think I can trust you,” she says, lips quirking in one corner.

With gentle fingers, I reach out to push a long strand of hair behind Aurora’s ear. She’s wearing silver earrings in the shape of feathers, tiny blue stones embedded in the metal. The more I get to know her, the more surprised I am that her ears aren’t delicately pointed. I’ve never met an elf or a fairy, but if Aurora were to tell me she’s secretly of the fair folk, I wouldn’t doubt it for a moment.

Capturing my hand in hers, Aurora places a kiss to my palm. Then the smile slowly fades from her lips. “I’m glad you came to visit me,” she says, but the joyful tone has gone from her voice. “I wanted to talk to you... about yesterday.”

My mind immediately flashes back. I can feel her soft skin on mine, taste the salty sweat in her kiss, smell the smoke from the fire in her hair.

Of course, that’s why I’m here too, but since she brought it up first, I’d like to know what she has to say. “What about it?”

She averts her eyes, choosing instead to look at my palm. Delicately, she traces her fingers over the lines etched in my skin. “I’m not sure if you know this, but I... have another. A man, I mean.”

My body tenses up, but I try not to let it show.

The carpenter, Alden. It must be.

And this is exactly what I’ve been worried about. How have I let myself fall for a woman who’s already chosen someone else?

“I understand,” I say, starting to pull away. “I have no intention of trying to come between you.”

But Aurora recaptures my hand before I can stand.

“No, you don’t understand.” Her grip tightens, and she weaves her fingers through mine, holding me firm. “I want both of you, Rowan. That is... if you’ll have me.” Her voice gets tiny at the end, uncertain.

My brow furrows. I’ve heard of people taking multiple lovers, but I’ve never stopped to consider if I’d ever be comfortable doing it myself. I’ve only ever been with one woman at a time.

I slowly unwind my fingers from Aurora’s, then push myself into a seated position. Aurora follows suit, and we sit there in the sunlit meadow, dragonflies buzzing around us.

“What about Alden?” I ask. “How would he feel about this?”

“I’ve already spoken to him.” She gives me a gentle smile. “He said he’s okay with it.”

Every word Aurora says surprises me. It leaves me wondering if being with her would always be like this, a new adventure every day, a new journey with the start of every sunrise.

“You told him what we did?” I ask. I’m finding it hard to believe he’d be okay with me burying my tongue inside her, but her eyes don’t lie, and she nods. “And he doesn’t mind?”

Aurora scoots a bit closer to me, so our knees are touching. “I know it sounds strange,” she says, “but I told him everything, and he understands. I was surprised too...” She reaches up to snag a strand of hair and twist it around her finger. “I care deeply for Alden, but my heart is pulling me toward you as well.”

I’m not sure how to feel about any of this. I want her—that much is crystal clear—but I don’t know if I’m comfortable sharing her with another man. Would that ever work, or would it just slowly unravel into a painful mess of hurt feelings and jealousy?

My silence makes Aurora’s lips pull slowly into a frown. “I’d understand if you’re not comfortable,” she says. “I’ve never felt this way before, have never done anything like this. But it feels... right , if that makes sense.”

Nothing makes a whole lot of sense to me right now. But again, maybe that’s how things will always be with Aurora. Perhaps being with her is like drifting through clouds, knowing the ground is below you but being okay with letting your feet leave the earth.

Still, though, I don’t know how I’m going to be okay with sharing this beautiful green-haired forest being, who gives me dirt-smudged smiles and talks to cats while working in the garden.

“Can I take some time to think about it?” I ask.

I’m not sure how I expect Aurora to respond, but I see her shoulders soften, and she lets out a tiny sigh. “Of course. Take all the time you need. But just know”—she lifts a hand to cup my face with her palm—“if we decide to do this, we’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll figure it out together.”