Page 23 of Song of the Dark Wood

“Row, I don’t think he would do that,” Orla argued.

“But he might have been mad that you told me something,” Rowan countered. She continued singing the next few lines of her song.

“I think I would have remembered if it was him,” Orla said. “I wish I could remember more, but I really don’t. One moment I was walking down the trail, and the next, I was free from my body. I don’t remember the in-between.”

It was a relief she hadn’t suffered, but Rowan still felt uneasy.

“I think I broke a rule.”

Rowan wanted to ask more questions, but every single one vacated her mind as her gaze locked on the distant dark walls of Wolf’s Keep.

“You’re almost there. I just wanted you to know I’m here,” Orla said.

Rowan slowed. “I’m scared.”

“You’ll be okay. Now make your way to the gate and bow your head and kneel as the spirits pass through,” Orla instructed.

Rowan continued to sing as she neared Wolf’s Keep. The blight reached all the way to its border. Large metal gates of intricately sculpted iron swung open as she approached. She tried not to stare at them, but they were the most beautiful and detailed things she’d ever seen. The winding metal vines and flowers looked more like they belonged at the entry intoa beautiful garden than the realm of the god of death—or they would if it weren’t for the fact that the design formed what looked like the jaws of a wolf.

Cade stilled beside her. He pressed his hands forward against an invisible boundary.

“I don’t think I can go farther,” he said, meeting her eyes. “There’s some sort of magic to keep me out. I’m sorry, Row.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’ll wait here for you, I promise,” he said.

She turned back to the gates and gasped. A dark shadow approached from the other side.

Rowan quickly lifted the hem of her silk dress and knelt. Her red cloak pooled on the ground around her like blood. The dead grass scratched at her bare knees as she bowed her head.

The mass of spirits surged around her, rustling her hair and cloak as they brushed by. There were only five to ten souls during most ceremonies. Tonight, there seemed to be some left over from the ceremony the week before who had made their way back to the town square when Orla passed. She estimated about twenty souls streamed by her.

Rowan wanted to lift her gaze and watch what happened to them. She wanted to watch Orla pass through the gates, but she wasn’t ready to face the monster she’d been dreading her whole life. She wasn’t ready to come face to face with her friend’s killer.

Living with the knowledge of her likely fate her whole life had, in some ways, numbed her to fear. Still, all the angry determination and righteous indignation she’d felt earlier in the evening had cooled to dread as the Wolf’s eyes bore into her, reminding her of the last rule.

Keep the Wolf happy.

She had never felt anyone’s gaze on her so acutely. It felt like he was seeing through her, stripping her out of her scant clothing to glimpse the substance of her soul. She knew seeingwhat souls were made of was rumored to be part of his power. She wondered what he saw in hers.

“It’s an honor, my lord,” Rowan said.

She tried to hide the way she trembled, but it was no use. Even if she could have calmed her fear, the chill of the night bit into her.

The Wolf chuckled. “Liar.”

She whipped her head up to look at him, and the air punched out of her lungs.

The Wolf wasn’t monstrous at all. In fact, he was incredibly striking and entirely human-looking. His eyes were a light blue and gray, like storm clouds illuminated from within, and his dark hair was stark against his fair skin, falling over his forehead and curling around his ears. The god of death was due for a haircut. It was such an utterly ridiculous thought that Rowan laughed.

She’d imagined him so many ways, but never as an incredibly handsome man who looked to be just a few years older than her. She was speechless.

“An amused liar, it seems,” he said. His smile was a beautiful threat that she wanted him to follow through on, even if it meant her doom. She looked back at the ground. “What’s your name?”

She narrowed her eyes, a flicker of anger curling in her stomach. “Rowan…and I’m not a liar.”

The Wolf tilted her chin up with a finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “We just met, and now you’ve lied to me twice, little Red. Didn’t Orla warn you I can taste lies? Yours taste sweet, like burnt sugar. Harmless in small doses, but too much could rot my teeth. Care to revise your answers, lass?”

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