Page 113 of Song of the Dark Wood

Look at me and my broken heart, she thought. Conor may as well have cleaved her open and left her in the town square. It would have been kinder.

She cut down alleyways to get away from prying eyes until she found herself pleasantly lost in a part of town she wasn’t asfamiliar with. Rounding a corner, she bumped into a group of men.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, stepping around them, narrowly missing the slosh of beer from their mugs.

“Aye, Red! See you finally let the old Wolf into your magical twat,” one of the men taunted.

Rowan bristled as another stepped into her path. “Where you off to in such a hurry? You’ve not given him enough yet, apparently. The blight is still spreading in Ashand Orchards,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Can’t even do a good enough job of lying on your back to save your people.”

He pushed her into a third man, who held her firmly by the shoulders. “What do ya say, boys? Should we have a taste of the Wolf’s leftovers?”

Rowan struggled to free herself from the man’s grip when another man stepped up in front of her and pulled her into an alley. He shoved her against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs, and began to hike up her dress. Rowan scratched at his face, trying desperately to get free.

There was so little she had left to offer. She’d sacrificed her childhood, her family, her heart. It struck Rowan that they wouldn’t be happy with her life, either. There was nothing she could offer that would be enough. Worse, they felt entitled to her pain. There was no sacrifice too great for her to make, and if she didn’t decide where the line was, they’d never stop demanding more.

“Leave Rowie alone!”

A red blur burst around the corner, launching at the man grasping Rowan’s arm. He let her go out of sheer surprise as he shook off his attacker.

Rowan stumbled back, shocked to see Aeoife standing there, her hood pushed back and her little fists held out in front of her like she was ready for a fight.

The man took a step back, averting his gaze before turning back to Rowan. “You should get that one home. She’s too young for this.”

“But not too young to venture into the Dark Wood alone. This is the face my death condemns,” Rowan said, thrusting her hand toward Aeoife.

The men stepped back, looking more startled than truly chastened.

Rowan’s hands itched to beat the man bloody. A feral, impotent anger rose inside her and she clenched her fists to try to hold it back, but it was futile. She cocked her fist back.

“Rowan!”

Finn’s voice startled her into stillness. He came between her and the group of men as she lowered her hand.

“Be gone or the huntsmen will make sure you go painfully,” he snapped. The men scattered as Finn turned to face Rowan and Aeoife. His eyes lingered on Rowan’s red dress. “Are you well?”

“I’d be better if these people would leave me alone.”

“They’re scared, Rowan,” Finn sighed.

“And I’m not? What have they to be afraid of? It’s me that stands between them and the Wolf.”

Finn shook his head. “We’re isolated here. They’re worried for the future and the food supply.”

Rowan took a step toward him, but Aeoife slid her hand into Rowan’s and gave it a squeeze, and all her anger fled. “I have no future,” she whispered.

“That’s not true,” Finn said. “You have belonged with me since the day I pulled you from that riptide. I looked into those beautiful green eyes and I was done for. I didn’t leave you to the sea then, and I will not leave you to the Wolf now.” He leaned closer. “I love you.”

Rowan turned away from him, pulling her hood up to hide the tears streaming down her face. Aeoife walked beside her, whispering comforting words the whole way back to Maiden’s Tower. But nothing could soothe Rowan.

She cried because she desperately wanted to hear those words from the lips of a god who would never say such a thing. She was caught between a Wolf who used her and a huntsman who desperately loved an idea of her, and she didn’t know how to free herself.

29

CONOR

Rowan was sick with grief, which meant Conor was, too. He cursed himself for ever bonding with her because he’d been cruel the first opportunity he got. It didn’t matter that it was for her own good. She hurt, and Conor did, too.

He’d been so desperate to own some part of her, so feral and territorial, that he let himself get roped into it. Now it was nearly impossible to separate what he felt from what she felt.

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