Page 108 of Song of the Dark Wood

Rowan whipped her head around to see Conor sitting in a chair across the room by the fire, sipping whiskey.

“Come back to bed,” she said, patting the space beside her.

“You have to go,” he said without meeting her eyes.

The coldness in his tone was in startling contrast to the warmth in the way he whispered her name as she fell asleep in his arms. Perhaps she’d imagined that tenderness.

She swung her legs out of bed and stood, crossing the room to stand naked in front of Conor.

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t look at her. “Rowan, please don’t make a fuss,” he said. “I know you’re young and maybe you don’t understand. I got what I wanted from you, but I don’t do aftercare. You should go back to where you belong.”

She laughed in disbelief. “Really? You want me to believe that you just wanted to sleep with me? After you killed an elder for me? After that song?”

He said nothing as he finally met her eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“I killed an elder because he wanted to take what belonged to me,” Conor said with a harsh laugh. “I killed him, and then I took what I wanted from you. I have centuries of experience, little Red. Do you really think I couldn’t convince you to give something up to me with some sappy story about a song I wrote for you? I’ve played that same song for the last eight Red Maidens. You all fall for the same story. The god of death with a heart of gold. I understand. It’s very compelling to be told you’re different than all the rest, but I’m afraid you’re exactly the same, Rowan. A pretty little virgin who let me convince her this was her idea. It works every time.”

The cruelty of his laugh opened a crack in her mind through which doubt grew like a weed through cobblestones.

“Don’t get me wrong—you were fantastic. You’re very well trained. I enjoyed every moment of it. I told you before that death’s gift is taking,” he taunted.

“You’re lying,” Rowan said, blinking away humiliated tears. Whether he was being honest or not, it was a disturbing reminder that cruelty came naturally to Conor.

“I’m not. Why do you think I made you sleep so long afterward? I didn’t want to deal with the waterworks that always come at this point,” he said.

Rowan’s resolve faltered. She’d slept like a stone, and that never happened. He had to have used some sort of magic on her. She usually dreamt in wild, vivid colors and lucid stories, but there had been nothing but darkness this time.

“You’ve been asleep a full day, lass.”

Rowan stared at him in disbelief. A full day. She wanted to deny it, but the grumble in her stomach suggested he was telling the truth.

“I’ll have Charlie bring you some tea before you go. I’ve laid out a red dress on the bed for you. You should have no issue with the elders now. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Conor, what are you doing? This isn’t you.”

He gave her a patronizing glance. “You have no idea who I am, little Red. But right about now, you should be figuring out whatyouare. You’re simply an object to be used—a magical little doll to satisfy me. The sooner you remember that, the better off you’ll be.”

Every word was drenched in ice. He’d kept her at arm’s length, and the first time he did anything remotely kind for her, she’d thought he was different. It wasn’t her fault that her concept of caretaking was so flawed. She was as the world made her.

She went back over the course of events. She’d begged him not to go after Elder Garrett, but he’d still done it. He hadn’t wanted her to stay with him when the elders sent her. He’d acted like she was a disease he might catch. Then he’d avoided her, popping up only occasionally to kiss her before disappearing again. She’d basically thrown herself at him.

Rowan met Conor’s eyes, expecting to find contempt, but she was met with something so much worse: indifference.

She felt gutted. How could she have been so stupid as to not have just stabbed him when she had the chance?

Dressing in the red clothes he’d laid out for her, Rowan was disappointed she couldn’t even rejoice in the fact that she could finally wear red. Everything felt hollow. She laced up her boots and buttoned her cloak.

Conor handed her the dagger that the Mother had given her. Anxiety spun through her, but there was no sign on his face that he knew her original intent.

“Don’t forget this, lass. You might need it out there. I’m glad to see you’ve started carrying a weapon. Can’t always expect me to come and save you. Like I said before?—”

“You’re not the hero in this story,” she rasped.

She couldn’t believe the man who’d been so sweet and gentle with her the night before could so easily switch to cruelty once he’d taken what he wanted.

“Oh, that’s right.You’rethe hero. Think what’s between your legs is sweet enough to save your people? What would you do to save them, Rowan? To save Aeoife?”

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