Page 13 of Song of the Dark Wood

“It’s going to be okay,” Finn said, brushing his fingers through her hair. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

If Finn wanted to believe that, he could, but they both knew the truth deep down. In a week, when she walked into the Dark Wood to ferry the souls of the dead to Wolf’s Keep, she’d have to do it alone. Finn couldn’t protect her, even if he wanted to.

Whether she liked it or not, Rowan was on her own.

4

ROWAN

Rowan stood in front of the mirror as a seamstress tucked and pinned the delicate white silk at her hem. Her grief showed in her wan appearance and the dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had been a challenge between Aeoife’s nightly presence in her bed and Rowan’s own nightmares.

The white silk dress made her look like a ghost. It was the first garment made specifically for Rowan instead of a hand-me-down. Something inherited wouldn’t do for a new gift to the Wolf.

Rowan felt numb. She was so caught up in the whirlwind of becoming acting Red Maiden that there was little time to grieve Orla. Time marched on. Death stopped for no man or woman.

The village was restless over the blight. Frantic whispers followed Rowan whenever she walked through town. People looked at her like she was their salvation. She floated through her days like she was living a visceral nightmare.

Rowan winced as another needle jabbed her ankle.

“Sorry, dear,” the seamstress mumbled. She blotted the blood before it could stain the fabric. She came to stand next to Rowan, and they both stared into the mirror.

“What do you think?” the seamstress inquired.

“Where is the rest of it?” Rowan asked.

She was meant to look tempting, but the dress left very little to the imagination. The delicate white silk did nothing to keep out a chill. Lace accented a sweetheart neckline that curved around her full breasts, and a slit up the right leg nearly reached her hip, leaving her assets more on display than ever.

“I’ll freeze before I reach Wolf’s Keep,” Rowan murmured.

“Nonsense. You’ll be moving quickly and singing. You’ll have your red cloak, so you’ll be plenty warm,” Mrs. Teverin said.

Mrs. Teverin had tutored Rowan since she first came to the tower. She was a formidable woman, her family having served as the official tutors of Red Maidens for generations. The tutor had an air of authority that even urged the elders to sit up straighter. She was not known for her patience or kindness. Mrs. Teverin’s idea of warmth was using their names instead of just calling them each “Red.” Rowan looked at the deep creases in the woman’s olive skin and wondered exactly how many Maidens she’d sent to their death.

Rowan tugged on the lace, trying to get it to cover more of her cleavage. She was grateful she’d left Cade to keep Aeoife company. She couldn’t imagine what he’d say about her new look.

“Honestly, Rowan. I don’t know what you’re fussing about. You have a beautiful body that the Wolf is sure to find very pleasing,” Mrs. Teverin scolded.

“It’s just that I’ll be in front of the whole town first,” Rowan said.

Mrs. Teverin frowned in confusion. “You are a sacred vessel. If anyone from town has impure thoughts in seeing you, that’s between them and the Mother.”

Rowan shrugged, and the sleeves slid down her shoulders. She shivered as she stared at her reflection. She’d expected tosomehow look different, but she was met with the same bright green eyes, wide with fear and anxiety. Her auburn hair was pinned up neatly in an intricate hairstyle to practice for the night of and for the elders to give final approval of the sacrifice before she was sent into the woods in a few days.

“Are you ready for me to let the elders in for their approval? They’re busy men, and they haven’t got all day. I understand it’s an adjustment, but you’re probably as comfortable as you’ll ever be, Rowan,” Mrs. Teverin cautioned.

Rowan swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good girl,” Mrs. Teverin said, nodding her approval.

Rowan stood still as Mrs. Teverin opened the door and the five elders entered. They circled her like sharks taking in pathetic prey.

Elder Garrett, the newest and youngest of the elders, paused in front of her. His gaze passed over her slowly, making her skin crawl. If he didn’t look so delighted at her discomfort, she might have found him handsome. He couldn’t have been older than thirty, with smooth, pale skin, dark brown hair, and even darker eyes. The predatory way his gaze followed her, even when her hood was up, had always made Rowan so uncomfortable, but this was much worse.

“Can we make the bust any tighter?” he asked the seamstress.

“Sir, if we make it much tighter, it might split when she moves,” the seamstress said tentatively. Still, she moved behind Rowan and tugged on the strings at the back of the dress so that it clung to her breasts even more.

As the men nodded in approval, Rowan’s cheeks burned and she wished she was anywhere else. The Dark Wood might have been preferable to being leered at by a group of men, most of whom were old enough to be her father.

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