Page 136 of Song of the Dark Wood

“There is no way to fix this, but I will see justice done. Stay inside tonight and keep your loved ones close. I will not let this go unpunished,” Rowan said.

Aeoife’s mother nodded, her lip trembling and her gaze fierce with shared conviction. “You show them the same mercy they showed my beautiful girl,” she rasped. Then she turned and disappeared inside with Aeoife’s body, leaving Rowan feeling empty and too weighed down to move.

“Rowan, I’m so sorry,” Conor said. “There aren’t words for her loss. I know you loved her very much.”

Rowan turned to face him, unable to make out his expression through her tears. “She was good. She was supposed to be okay. She was supposed to still be here after me. I was going to stay forever if I could. I was going to make sure she never had to do what I did. It was supposed to?—”

She couldn’t breathe around the loss. She felt like her chest had been torn open.

“It was all supposed to be worth it for her,” Rowan gasped.

The truth was devastating. Above everything else in Rowan’s life, her love for Aeoife—her desire to protect the girl from suffering the same fate—had been the one thing that sustained her. Now she felt lost at sea with no purpose or direction and no way to steer the ship.

Conor pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face in his chest and cried. “I wish that I could take this grief from you. I wish I could save you from it, but it’s simply love that you had left to spend, and you always have so much love to give.”

He rubbed her back in soft, soothing circles as they walked away from Aeoife’s house. As they cut down the street, the grief abated, swallowed by a fresh wave of anger. By the time they reached the trailhead at Maiden’s Tower, she was propelled purely by fury.

Charlie had gathered the men responsible, and they all knelt in a line on the dais outside the Temple of the Mother where the weekly Gratitude and Grieving Ceremony was held. Rowan had expected to see Finn, but he was nowhere to be found.

“These are all the ones that the demon and Finn could identify,” Charlie said solemnly.

“The demon?” Rowan asked.

“Your friend, Cade,” Charlie said. “He and the hunter tried to hold off the crowd.”

Rowan swallowed hard. Despite all that had happened, she was relieved that at least Cade had been there to try to protect Aeoife. What had really broken Rowan was the thought of Aeoife being terrified and alone.

Rowan felt sick as she looked at the men. Some she recognized from prominent houses in Ballybrine.

“And what did you hope to gain, chasing down a child? Trampling an old woman?” Rowan demanded.

None of the men spoke.

Conor stepped up beside Rowan. “Speak or die,” he ordered.

The men trembled at the sight of him, and Rowan wondered what they were seeing.

Rowan laughed bitterly. “Oh, is that the problem? Am I not frightening enough? That can be remedied.”

She tugged on the tether between herself and the Dark Wood, and the forest rushed over its boundary, pressing out behind the men. The temple groaned and stained glass shattered as the enchanted vines and roots burst through the walls. In moments, the temple was in ruins, and the edge of the Dark Wood loomed right behind the group of men.

Rowan tugged again at the magic, and the men cried out in fear and surprise as their hands were roughly dragged overhead, bound by roots and vines.

“We didn’t hurt her. She just fell!” one of the men shouted.

“She fell because you were chasing her. Do you have any idea what it would be like for a young girl to be chased by a mob of angry grown men? What was she supposed to do after you’d killed her tutor?” Rowan screamed.

She opened her mouth and sang, tugging on the tether between her and the Dark Wood. The forest ran a large root through the man’s heart. A sickening gargle burst from his lips and blood covered the ground. Rowan should have been horrified, but she only felt bone-deep rage and grief. Killing him did nothing to lessen her burden, but it felt good to be able to do something.

“Please, Lady Rowan. Mercy, please,” another man said, hanging his head.

Rowan faltered. These were someone’s husbands, fathers, sons. She could tell by their clothing that they were common men, stirred into a frenzy by a fanatical religion. Killing them wouldn’t alleviate her pain. It would just spread it around.

She looked to Conor.

“It isenough, love. You have given them enough. They do not get your mercy,” he said.

Rowan considered if she had more to extend them. More patience. More understanding. More of herself. But there was none. There was only the emptiness of losing Aeoife and new rage burning through her blood. Rowan did not care for mercy when she could have vengeance.

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