Page 18 of Song of the Dark Wood

It was hard to pick one particular moment when her mother’s attitude had changed. Perhaps it shifted as they slowly starved, or when she realized that a spirit singer daughter would solve all of their financial problems at once. Regardless, somewhere along the way, her mother had stopped seeing Rowan as a daughter and started seeing her as a means to an end. Her mother’s betrayal was like the sun, always hanging over her, blinding her to everything else.

Anger had always been safest for Rowan. Better that than the heaviness of grief or the startling emptiness of betrayal. The years since hadn’t entirely trained the softness out of her, but they did bury it deep.

Rowan stood and crossed the room, throwing the curtains open. She opened the balcony door and stepped out into the daylight, casting a glance at Orla’s balcony next door as though she expected to see her friend standing there.

The icy cold of the stone cut into her bare feet, but she welcomed the hurt. She gazed out at the Dark Wood below. The blighted trees stretched as far as she could see, but a dense fog still hung over the forest, preventing her from seeing how far it went. She puzzled over what it meant if the Dark Wood was dying and the monsters in the wood were gaining strength by devouring souls. Old magic should protect the trail she’d walk, but it hadn’t protected Orla.

Perhaps it was the immediacy of her doom—staring down her mortality—her very proximity to death—that finally stirred something to life inside her. She felt desperate for more. Rowan wanted to dig her nails into her life and hold on. She wanted to learn everything that Sarai knew about herbs. She wanted to learn to sing more than just service hymns and local pub songs. Maybe no one else expected her to want more, but something inside her was growing too large to be contained. She wasconsumed by the fear that she would simply disappear from the hearts and minds of the people she loved the second she died.

She stepped back into her bedroom, closing the balcony doors behind her.

Cade slumped into the plush chair by the fire. He was always slumping into something, as if holding himself upright was impossible. His raven hair spilled messily over his forehead, and his unlaced tunic hung open, revealing a crisp white shirt beneath.

“You could run,” he said.

“And go where?” Rowan laughed bitterly. “Even the Borderwood is impassable. It’s too late in the season. I’d freeze before I reached another town,” she lamented.

Cade frowned. “That’s not necessarily true. Didn’t Finn teach you how to navigate the woods? We’d just keep going until we found a new town. I would be with you the whole time.”

“And together we’d wander into a new religious stronghold that executes those who practice the old ways,” Rowan said. “Even if I ran, I couldn’t manage myself and Aeoife, and if I left her behind, they’d have no choice but to send her in my place.” She shook her head. “Is this a demon thing? Like you don’t want me to go to the Wolf because it will somehow mess with the Mother?”

“No—I don’t want you to go to the Wolf because you’re my friend. If I were truly evil, I’d happily allow you to be devoured. That seems like the most evil thing,” Cade sighed. “No, wait. The most evil thing would be letting that creepy elder have you.”

Rowan paled.

“Too soon?” Cade asked.

“It doesn’t seem very evil to save me,” Rowan challenged.

“I never claimed to be evil or to want to save you,” Cade said. “I just think it’s fascinating that these people think they’re holy for sacrificing a young virgin to save themselves from the Wolf’swrath. Death is part of life, and they know it. Just because they have some deal with him doesn’t mean they should all be spared in exchange for giving him your virtue and life. The last time I checked, human sacrifice wasn’t exactly virtuous.”

Rowan lifted a brow. “You mean you wouldn’t enjoy leading a Maiden to be devoured by a death god?”

“Devoured,” Cade repeated, rolling his eyes.

That was the word that was used in the Mother’s scripture. The Wolf woulddevourher. The elders believed in the importance of words, and they chose one that meant the Wolf would eat her greedily and ravenously—that he would use up and destroy her, or prey upon her and enjoy it.

She might have spent the last fifteen years being sculpted into a perfect sacrifice, but she was fairly certain that no amount of preparation would make her feel ready for that.

“What are you dreading more—the Dark Wood or your mother?” Cade asked.

Rowan laughed. “The Dark Wood.”

He smiled. “I thought for sure you’d say your mother.”

“She is notthatbad,” Rowan argued. She wasn’t sure why she felt a need to defend the mother who had never protected her.

“Don’t forget how my powers work. That woman is one of the most envious people I’ve ever met,” Cade said, rolling his eyes. His proclivity as a demon tended toward inspiring envy, which also meant he could recognize it in others and help it grow, if he was so inclined.

“She wasn’t always like that,” Rowan said.

Cade cocked his head to the side. “Yes, but she got a taste of wealth all for your sacrifice, and now she chases after status mindlessly.”

Rowan sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m not going anywhere. My mother is a necessary evil of this day.After that, I won’t need to see her again unless she surprises us and attends a visitation.”

“You’re the one doing the big, scary thing. You shouldn’t have to spend the day before pandering,” Cade snapped.

“When have I ever had a choice?”

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