Page 137 of Song of the Dark Wood

Conor was right. They would never stop asking for more. She’d sacrificed most of herself to them and it still had not been enough. It never would be. As long as she had breath in her lungs, they’d ask for more.

It was for her to decide now, and it was finally enough.

So she sang a different song—one of rage and fury—and the Dark Wood stretched out its roots and ripped the men to shreds. After just a few moments, the blood that flooded the cobblestones was the only sign that the men had ever existed.

The entire Dark Wood rumbled and stretched, tearing into Ballybrine like a beast ripping chunks from its prey. People screamed and fled as nature took over.

Rowan turned toward the town and walked into the havoc with death at her back and the Dark Wood at her beck and call. The townsfolk ran screaming, but she did not care. She’d spent her life bending for them, and they’d finally broken her, and if they stood in her way, she’d break them right back.

Rowan had been taught it was right to always give more—to always think of the Mother’s mercy—but the Mother had never shown her any. In fact, the Mother had taught her that mercy was a weakness. Rowan felt no guilt for showing the same mercy she’d been granted her whole life.

Grief was an anchor. She could let it drag her down into the depths, or she could see it as fuel and transform it into vengeance. Rowan was ready to spend all of it at once. Maybe it wouldn’t make her feel any better, but at least it gave hersomething to do. At least she could make the people who thought it was okay to attack a young girl regret being so heartless.

She turned and caught Conor watching her. He looked fully in awe.

“You are exquisite,” he sighed, pulling her into a vicious kiss that stole her breath.

When she met his eyes, her desire for revenge was reflected on his face. Fear and hurt and pain all razed down to simple vengeance.

“Love, when you’re done ruining them, I’m going to make our vows official on the altar of the fucking Temple of the Mother,” he growled, kissing her again.

The words sent a surge of heat through her body.

“I look forward to it,” she said breathlessly.

She smiled as she drew away and turned her attention back to the town. How far could she push the Dark Wood? How far would her rage carry her? To the square? All the way to the sea? How far did shewantit to carry her?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that she wasn’t dead yet.

Conor followed behind her with Charlie and a flood of reapers on his heels.

“Demon’s breath, lass! You know how to make an entrance,” the reaper said. “And I thought you were intense, Con.”

The Dark Wood pulsed around them—the new growth eager to spread into town.

“When I met you, I was afraid you were too soft. Now I think perhaps you’re more fierce than even I am,” Conor said.

Rowan soaked in the awe in his gaze.

“All right, I get it. You’re in love. Can we keep going? We have a job to do and not much time to do it. The new refugees just arrived from the north. It’s now or never,” Charlie said.

Rowan took a breath and closed her eyes. Grief rose like a great tide. Conor’s hand slid to her lower back, and she knew he felt it through their bond. She forced herself to march on, dragging the Dark Wood with her as people fled.

Those people would never understand what it was to be raised as an object. They wouldn’t understand the grief of loving two beautiful Maidens who should have had their whole lives ahead of them. They didn’t understand the frustration of having no control over your life and fate. They didn’t understand what it was to want desperately to live when you knew you would die.

Rowan was happy to give them a lesson. She thought perhaps she would mourn the sweet girl she used to be. So many times in the past few months, she’d killed off and buried new versions of herself. Reinvention required what was dead in her to stay dead, allowing what was left to rise like a phoenix and burn the world down for killing her in the first place.

She knew what people would say—that she’d allowed the Wolf to drag her down into the dark. The truth was that she’d spent her life in the dark, and he was the first person who allowed her to be exactly as she was.

“I know we had discussed a more subtle approach, but obviously, we’ll have to act now with what little bit of the plan we have,” Conor said as they walked.

Rowan nodded. They had no idea if their plan would work. With Conor’s power waning, they couldn’t be certain he was even really immortal anymore. There were many points of failure. They could both be hurt and gone in an instant, but they had to try.

Rowan would try for Orla and Aeoife—for all the Maidens who had come before her. She would try for Sarai, who deserved to love who she loved and live a life that allowed her to be who she truly was. She would try for their small, sheltered village that needed to acknowledge the damage done, grow from theirmistakes, and never forget them so that they would not be repeated.

Most of all, Rowan would try for herself. She’d been alone her whole life, but she wasn’t anymore, and she never would be again, because the forest had always been listening, and it knew her pain well.

Rowan began to sing, pulling hard on the magic, and the Dark Wood grew around her like a green tide.

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