Page 43 of Song of the Dark Wood

The Mother winced. “Not exactly. It’s not so simple. The Wolf is gaining strength, and his power is stretching past the boundaries of his realm. The blight has spread to Ashand Orchards.”

“It has?” Rowan’s mind spun. It had to have been recent—there was no way Finn wouldn’t have mentioned his family’s orchards were blighted.

“Just to a few trees, but it’s a bad sign. I’m sure you don’t need to be reminded that the Ashand farmlands are where most of Ballybrine purchases their produce. That’s why, unfortunately, we need you to act with some urgency.”

They’d reached the end of the trail. Rowan saw Finn sitting slumped against the door of Maiden’s Tower, his head lolling.

The Mother followed her gaze. “I understand you’ve stolen the heart of the future Lord of Ashand.”

Rowan blushed and shook her head. “Not intentionally,” she murmured. “I don’t understand. What can I possibly do to stop the blight?”

“You can kill the Wolf.”

A hysterical giggle bubbled up from Rowan’s chest. “Me? I don’t know how to fight. He’s much bigger than me. How could I?—”

The look on the Mother’s face stopped her instantly.

“You mean seduce him,” Rowan said miserably.

The Mother stroked Rowan’s cheek tenderly, and a flood of tingles lit her skin. “Child, the Wolf’s power is tied to the bargain, just like mine. The Crone ensures that the bargain is sustained, but you are the token of the bargain. You can be a sacrifice, yes, one that gives the Wolf power, but you can also kill him.”

“How?” Rowan asked.

The Mother sighed. “There’s a little-known scripture. It’s ancient, and they have ignored it. Unfortunately, the elders prefer for you all to feel powerless, so they exclude valuable scripture that speaks to your power, much to my disappointment.”

Elder Garrett’s face flashed through Rowan’s mind. “Why not pick new elders?”

“Because change moves slowly. The elders are stubborn as mules.”

“But you’re the Mother,” Rowan argued.

“And I gain strength through worship. I’m struggling. Rowan, this religion to the north affects me as well. My power is waning as the Wolf’s is growing stronger. I gain power and influence through the prayers of the faithful, and if I challenge the elders, they could easily turn on me. They’ve learned from the men who are spreading the new religion how to strip women of their power and ensure they keep the upper hand. These are delicate times for me and the people of Ballybrine. It’s easier to believe in death when your life is so touched by it. It’s much harder to ask for blind faith.”

A tempest blew through Rowan’s mind. It was too much to take in. She was too tired, too scared, too lost. Her gaze fell back on Finn, where he dozed against the tower door, his golden-brown hair falling over his forehead.

“How can I kill the Wolf?” she asked, turning back to the Mother.

Light flared in goddess’s palms and a golden dagger appeared. A strange ringing sound pulsed from the blade. “You’re a weapon, Rowan. The moment that the Wolf is taking from you, he’s vulnerable. That is when you strike. That is when a victim becomes a warrior.”

“You mean…” Rowan’s voice trailed off.

“This blade plunged into his heart as he takes your virtue will end him,” the Mother said.

Rowan took a step back. “He’ll kill me. How am I supposed to get a knife into bed with us? Won’t he be suspicious?” she asked. She pictured herself ripped to shreds by claws.

“Offer him some blood,” the Mother said. She laughed as Rowan scrunched her nose in disgust. “It’s an old custom to show trust and intimacy. It’s a bond. It will also allow him to sense your feelings and make what’s between you more intense and intimate. Trust that he will find it very enticing.”

Rowan turned the dagger over in her hand. “So I bring this blade to bed, let him cut me and drink my blood. How much? What if I pass out?”

The Mother laughed softly. “It’s very little blood—only a drop or two. When he’s finished, I expect he’ll be quite ravenous for you. He won’t be able to resist. Just keep the blade nearby, and when the moment comes, it just takes a simple strike right here.” She brushed her fingertips over Rowan’s ribs. “If you press in here and drive up, you’ll hit his heart.”

Rowan swallowed hard. Could she really murder someone, even if he was the god of death? “What if I miss?”

“Don’t miss,” the goddess said with a gentle smile, as if it was that simple.

“And if I succeed, it will fix the blight?”

The Mother nodded.

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