Page 1 of Song of the Dark Wood

PROLOGUE

When she was five years old, Rowan Cleary whispered her name to the Dark Wood, and the Dark Wood whispered it back.

Her mother had warned her never to speak her name so close to a forest full of vicious monsters. Names held power. But Rowan had been found out as a spirit singer and given over to the elders by her family. Her life as she knew it was over.

Rowan’s power as a spirit singer meant that she would become the acting Red Maiden when she came of age. She would be forced to deliver on a bargain struck between two gods long before she was born. The Mother saw to the living. The Wolf saw to the dead. The Red Maiden was the bridge between two worlds, ferrying souls from the realm of the living, through the forest, to the realm of the dead.

It was reckless. She felt the wrongness in the magic of the Dark Wood, but still, it called to her—reaching out with icy fingers—beckoning her inside as if to say, “Come play with me, Rowan—little red one. Come play!”

One way or another, whatever lurked in the Dark Wood would get her. The rest of the world would know her as a Red Maiden and nothing else. So, she whispered her name and listened to the chilling echo of it in the darkness. It was the only rebellion she could muster at such a tender age.

She knew she would disappear in a matter of years, but at least the Dark Wood would remember her name.

1

ROWAN

There were things only the forest knew. A dark history woven into roots and soil and carried on the wind when the branches blew just right.

Now the trees seemed content to keep their secrets. In her twenty years, Rowan Cleary had never heard them so silent.

A cool breeze ruffled her red cloak, shaking leaves from the boughs above and along the mossy ground. The sun dipped low, shadows stretching as though the Dark Wood was reaching to claim her. Normally, a melody seemed to flow between her and the enchanted wood, but today it absorbed her whispers the moment they left her lips.

She’d stood on the edge of this forest so many times, her boots scraping but never quite crossing the invisible boundary, hands tenderly petting the leaves and branches like the hair of a well-loved doll.

There wasn’t room for Rowan to feel much of anything at home in Ballybrine. Here, she could purge herself of all poisonous thoughts—rage, fear, and secret longings dumped into the only place that would hold them without judgment.

“I’m only two months away from becoming the acting Red Maiden, and I already feel like I’m disappearing.”

The words wrenched from her lips. The secret stolen by grief.

Rowan rolled her shoulders, shaking off the stiffness of a day spent bent over her piano, practicing wielding her magical voice.

Turning her back to the Dark Wood, she looked at the lavender sky over Mother’s Lake. Her two blessed hours of freedom before evening prayer and dinner were nearly over.

Footsteps crunched to her left and Cade appeared at her shoulder. She hoped he hadn’t heard her. Though she trusted him implicitly, there were some things that were just between her and the woods.

“Are you really so eager to flirt with danger?” he asked, glancing at the Dark Wood.

Rowan rolled her eyes. “You’re awfully skittish for a demon. I’m on the Borderwood side. I never cross over.”

“I thought you were dreading meeting the Wolf, but you look like you’re ready to move in.”

Rowan bristled. “You may prefer the chaos of town like a good little demon, but I get tired of being gawked at. This clearing on the lake is perfect and I wanted to stop to see Sarai.”

She turned toward the little cottage on an island at the center of the lake, the home of the Crone and her daughter, Sarai, one of Rowan’s only friends.

Cade sighed. “Some days it feels like you drag me out here to punish me for your being found out.”

Rowan laughed and ruffled his hair. Fifteen years earlier, her mother had found her speaking to Cade one afternoon. Rowan hadn’t noticed until then that no one else ever spoke to him, and although he appeared to be a little boy her age, no parents came calling for him.

Instead of looking horrified, Rowan’s mother had looked relieved. Rowan was the youngest of five children and herparents were eternally struggling to put food on the table. A spirit singer was only born once every five years, and while it might have been a curse for Rowan, it was a blessing for the rest of her family. Her becoming a Red Maiden-in-waiting granted them one of the nicest homes in town, elevated them to the highest social status, and offered a substantial monthly stipend for the rest of their days—all for the simple price of her sacrifice.

It was a bitter tincture to swallow as she was sequestered to Maiden’s Tower, but Rowan couldn’t hate her parents. Their bodies had nearly been broken by years of manual labor and they had little to show for it. She and her siblings rarely went a day without the incessant cramping of an empty belly. Still, she was relieved when they skipped monthly visitation days. It was hard to see their freedom when her life was so sheltered and controlled.

Rowan sighed. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t like it here.”

“I know, but I thought you’d want to talk.” Cade dragged the toe of his boot through the mud.

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