Page 132 of Song of the Dark Wood

Rowan stared at the monster humbled before her. In the past, Conor would have been humiliated by doing such a thing, but he was bolstered by the hint of satisfaction on her face. The god of death was kneeling in his own temple to her, a girl who’d spent her life feeling powerless. He wanted her to feel strong, loved, perfect exactly as she was—because that was how he truly felt.

“What are you doing?” she rasped.

He took both of her hands in his, kissing her knuckles softly as he held her gaze. “Bind my heart to yours if you deem me worthy. Weave your life with mine.”

Rowan went utterly still. He held her hands, kissing each fingertip, her palms, the insides of her wrists. Recognition lit in her eyes, and Conor felt the warmth of her joy and the buzzing of her apprehension in his chest as if they were his own. They were the words of traditional Eireione wedding vows, and it was clear that, despite her sheltered life, she recognized them.

He took a breath and continued, “From my lips may only truth flow. From your heart may only peace grow.”

He hugged her around the waist, staring up at her. It was dangerous to share his power. He had no idea what would happen if he took a wife, but in their culture, marriage was a spiritual vow, binding one soul to another forever. Conor hadn’t thought about his own soul in quite some time. Perhaps it would act as a millstone for hers, dragging her down to the depths. Perhaps she’d gladly fall. He was far too selfish to feel guilty for it.

He spoke again. “You are the mirror of my heart. You help me see myself even when I want to stay blind.”

She blinked back tears.

“From this day until my last, I bend to no one but you, Rowan Cleary.”

Rowan held her breath as shock reverberated through their connection. She’d likely never dreamed she would hear those words.

“Say it back, Rowan. I know it’s an untraditional proposal. I know it’s not really a proposal at all, but please say it back.”

In Eireione culture, couples married themselves. They committed their vows either privately or in front of friends and family, but there was no officiant necessary. If she said them back, they’d be so.

Conor felt the impulse to pray, though he had no clue to whom gods were supposed to pray. How did mortals bear the lack of control?

Rowan was still as a statue. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He couldn’t tell if they were a product of grief or joy.

There was no accounting for Conor’s heart. He loved this woman. Perhaps he’d pushed her too far. Perhaps it was asking far too much. Perhaps the past few days had convinced her how truly unwise it would be to bind herself to him in any significant way. Still, he would not let fear stop him from humbling himself for her.

It astonished Conor that he could still experience new things after his centuries of existence. He wasn’t certain Rowan understood what it meant for him to be on his knees and say those words. Even long ago, when he’d been mortal, he’d never had an interest in companionship. He was a warrior first. He was someone who had built his entire existence on certainty.

Now he knelt before a beautiful woman with nothing but uncertainty stretched out before him. The words he’d said to Charlie weeks before came rushing back to him. “I’ll not make hope a noose from which to hang myself.”

He feared he’d done just that.

34

ROWAN

Conor’s face was full of fear and longing as he knelt in the center of his temple. Rowan could not believe he’d humbled himself before her. He’d given her what they both thought him incapable of.

Her heart warred with her mind. She wanted to believe that he meant what he was saying, but he could have just as easily been trying to find a way to bind her to him now that she’d be free. But this offer felt less like possession and more like homage.

Her hands trembled as she cupped his face. “Conor—” Her voice broke. He wasn’t just offering his heart for a lifetime. He was offering it for an eternity.

He reached to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She looked at the rows of shrines of her fallen sisters and, instead of feeling repulsed by his savagery, she felt suddenly certain that someone tame would never do.

She lowered herself to her knees, meeting his stormy eyes. “Bind my heart to yours. Weave your life with mine.”

Conor sagged in relief, squeezing her hands.

“From my lips may only truth flow. From your heart may only peace grow. You are the mirror of my heart. You help me see myself even when I want to stay blind. From this day until my last, I bend to no one but you, Conor?—”

“Grey,” he supplied.

“Conor Grey,” she said with a smile. “Now what?”

Conor kissed her, weaving his fingers through her hair and pulling her body flush to his. “Now, lass, we get to the business of making it official,” he whispered against her lips as he guided her down to her back on the cool marble floor.

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