Page 33 of Song of the Dark Wood

Rowan held a finger to her lips as she extricated herself from Aeoife’s arms. The younger Maiden let out a discontented sigh and rolled over. Rowan tucked the blankets around her.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she whispered, finally meeting Mrs. Teverin’s eyes.

“Why don’t I stay and help you dress? What will we be wearing today—white or red?”

She looked so hopeful, and Rowan wasn’t sure if the sudden rush of nausea she felt was due to lack of sleep or the fact that her longtime tutor hoped she’d been bedded by the god of death.

“White.”

Rowan looked away, trying to hide her humiliation, but not in time to miss the disappointment on the old woman’s face. Mrs. Teverin was silent as she pulled a white wool dress from the closet and helped Rowan into it. As she buttoned up the back, she finally spoke.

“You know, it took at least a month before it happened for Orla. I wouldn’t worry,” Mrs. Teverin whispered.

“I’m not worried. I just feel like the elders are going to blame me. I swear I did everything right,” she said as she turned to look at Mrs. Teverin.

“Of course you did. I taught you. You’re a gorgeous young woman. I’m sure the Wolf has his reasons,” the older woman whispered as she wiped Rowan’s face with a washcloth and got to work braiding her hair.

“How long did it take with Evelyn?” Rowan asked.

Mrs. Teverin wouldn’t meet her eyes in the mirror. “Evelyn was a completely different case. It’s not important.”

“How long?” Rowan repeated.

“Her first night out,” Mrs. Teverin said as she finished the braid and secured it with a red ribbon.

A new determination set into Rowan. Perhaps it was the fatigue, but she wanted to do whatever she could to get all her questions answered. She wanted to know about all the past Maidens and the Wolf’s relationships with each. She wanted to know what the Wolf did about the blight and what happened to Orla. She’d do what she must to figure it out, so if that meant making herself more tempting to win over the Wolf, she’d do it. If it meant sneaking around the temple and searching the elders’ archives, she would. She needed to do whatever she could to saveherself and Aeoife. She took a fortifying breath and followed Mrs. Teverin out of the room and down the stairs.

Rowan pulled on her red cloak and was about to pull up the hood when she remembered she no longer needed to. Now that she’d been blessed and sent to the Wolf, she was allowed the small freedom of showing her face in town.

“I’ll stay with you while you’re with them,” Mrs. Teverin said meaningfully. “There won’t be any more issues with Elder Garrett.”

Rowan smiled gratefully. She’d been so distracted she’d forgotten to dread Elder Garrett. Her mind could only process so many horrors at once, especially on so little sleep.

Ms. Teverin led her downstairs, across the square, inside the temple, and to the meeting room behind the altar. A large mural of the symbol of the Mother, hands crossed over the heart, painted in gold, hung behind the long meeting table. All five elders were gathered around the table according to rank, with Elder Falon seated at the head of the table and Elder Garrett to his right, then Elder Raymond, Elder Graves, and Elder Nasik.

“Finally,” Elder Falon said, letting out an exasperated sigh, running a wrinkled hand down the front of his white and gold robes. “What took so long? Huntsman Ashand said he didn’t see you return.”

“Yes, as I understand, Huntsman Ashand nodded off and missed her. She was asleep after a very long night,” Mrs. Teverin answered for Rowan.

“You’ve been returned to us—by the Mother’s grace,” Elder Garrett said with glee in his eyes. “We see you’re wearing white still. I assume you failed in your endeavor.”

Rowan gritted her teeth. “I suppose that depends on how you define success. I led all the souls to Wolf’s Keep. They all crossed over. I can also confirm that the blight runs the entire length ofthe trail to Wolf’s Keep, at least for the trees bordering the main trail.”

She paused as several elders gasped.

“The Wolf says the blight is not what we think it is. I got the sense that perhaps he’s not responsible,” Rowan started.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s a death blight. Of course he’s responsible. It would be naive to take him at his word,” Elder Falon sighed. “Did he indicate how we could get him to reverse it?”

Rowan shook her head. She suddenly felt foolish for not pressing Conor further on the issue. It was easy for this room full of men who’d spent the night safely in their warm beds instead of in the lair of the god of death to suggest she should have asked more questions.

“I did not get a clear answer about Orla’s death, but I?—”

“We already know he’s responsible. It’s the nature of the bargain. The Maiden often dies, and it keeps the Wolf happy. There’s no mystery there,” Elder Falon said, cutting her off.

He shocked Rowan with his callousness about Orla. He’d taken a particular interest in her and allowed her extra free time in the afternoons, which she spent concocting recipes at Hanna’s bakery.

The group broke out into a cacophony of murmurs and whispered arguments.

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