Page 9 of Song of the Dark Wood

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ROWAN

Rowan woke with echoes of Cade’s eerie bedtime stories in her head and Aeoife next to her in bed. Perhaps it was a mistake to allow a demon to spin his tales, but Aeoife had been so restless the night before, with Orla off in the blighted Dark Wood, that Rowan ran out of ideas. When Cade offered to take over, she let him.

He’d told them a story about how demons made deals with the living in exchange for little pieces of their souls. It wouldn’t have been Rowan’s choice of a fairy tale, but it put Aeoife to sleep, so she couldn’t complain.

Rowan rolled over and spotted Cade sitting by the fireplace.

“Was that story true?” she whispered.

His eyes lit with mischief. “All good fairy tales start with a heart of truth, Rowan. What do you think?”

“Does that happen still?” she asked.

If it did, maybe she could trade a part of herself to change her fate.

Cade’s features darkened with something resembling pity. “I see you thinking you’ve found a solution. Don’t even think it. To invite a demon to make a deal is to welcome trouble to your doorevery morning for the rest of your days. Demons don’t make deals they don’t come out on the winning end of.”

Rowan sighed heavily. She’d known Cade long enough to know when to push and when to let things go. The only predictable thing about him was that his every choice was in his own best interest.

Aeoife curled closer to her side. Rowan had promised the girl’s mother five years before—when her abilities had shown up—that she would take care of her. Unlike Rowan’s parents, Aeoife’s mother was clearly distraught that her middle daughter was a spirit singer. She’d needed to be dragged sobbing from the girl the day she was brought to the tower, and she came to every single visitation day along with Aeoife’s two older brothers and her youngest sister. They were a beautiful family and a constant reminder of everything Rowan’s family was not.

It was rare that Rowan’s family showed up to visitation days, and when they did, they typically only caught Rowan up on gossip. No one asked how she was. No one doted on her, and they never brought her gifts.

The differences were glaring, leaving her sick with jealousy. Rowan felt foolish complaining about it, though. Orla had no family to speak of. A plague had taken her entire brood out when she was twelve.

A bell chimed in the distance, and Rowan reluctantly woke Aeoife for their morning prayers. They made their way down the hall to their rehearsal rooms. They spent their mornings in solitude in identical soundproof rooms.

As they walked down the hall, Rowan peeked into Orla’s room. The bed was still made perfectly, the candles unburned. All signs that she hadn’t come home yet. Rowan tried to convince herself it was normal. Occasionally, Orla stayed overnight in the keep. She ignored the fact that it only happenedwhen the weather was bad, then thought back to Sarai’s vision, and goosebumps prickled her skin.

“Where’s Orla?” Aeoife asked, noticing her unease.

“She probably just stayed the night. It was…windy last night,” Rowan improvised.

Aeoife looked at her skeptically, but seemed happy to have her anxiety explained.

Rowan guided her down to their practice and prayer rooms on the second floor, silently praying that Orla was safe at Wolf’s Keep.

The sun beatdown on Rowan as she looked at her reflection in the shop window. Aeoife stood next to her, finishing the last bite of her sticky bun and licking her fingers. Rowan brushed a smudge of caramel from the corner of her mouth, just below the edge of her hood.

When Orla still hadn’t returned home by the end of their morning practice time, Rowan tried her best to distract Aeoife with a trip into town for sticky buns.

The din of deal-making vendors and the scent of fresh brown bread filled the air, and the curious gazes of townsfolk clung to the two hooded Maidens standing in front of Marie’s Dress Shop. Beside them, Cade glared at all the curious onlookers as if they could see the threatening look in his eye.

A stiff wind blew between the buildings, ruffling their cloaks, giving reflected glimpses of the white dresses beneath. Their frocks were boring compared to the elaborate ones displayed in the window.

“I call the pink one!” Aeoife said, looking at a fluffy pink tulle monstrosity that Rowan wouldn’t be caught dead in. Aeoife likedthis game of daydreaming about dresses they’d never be allowed to wear. A little dreaming wouldn’t hurt her, so Rowan played along.

“Have at it,” Rowan laughed.

“I think the green one would look good on you,” Aeoife said. “My mom always says that green brings out red hair. My sister Aileen wears it all the time because of that.”

Rowan frowned. “I don’t know how I feel about a skirt that big. It would get awfully muddy.”

“You’d look like a cupcake,” Cade taunted.

“Well, it’s not for gardening, Rowie. It’s for a ball,” Aeoife teased, as if there was a scenario in which they’d be going to a ball.

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