Page 50 of Song of the Dark Wood

Conor felt furious with her, with Ballybrine, with the Mother—mostly with himself. He’d fallen into the same trap as everyone else. He treated her with an impermanence that made her believe her value was inconsequential. Perhaps he’d been going about this all wrong. He was so afraid to get close, sure he’d lose control, but what had helped him numb away Orla and Evelyn before her, was taking the time to know them. In small ways, he’d let them in.

Somehow, he wasn’t confident that caring about Rowan would help. He needed objectivity. She was a puzzle he needed to solve as soon as possible.

Instead, Conor tapped back into his power, pushing deeper into Rowan’s fears. His form shifted again, and her eyes went wide in genuine fear. She wasn’t seeing him as a monster. She was seeing something much worse. His power was both physical and psychological, so it could cause lucid hallucinations.

He closed his eyes, and he saw a family—he assumed hers—living happily as if she’d never been born, never died for their safety, never loved them even while they couldn’t love her back. He saw a young woman with gray eyes and dark braids peacefully pruning her herb garden alone. He saw a handsome huntsman marrying a lovely blonde lady. He saw a happy, healthy, Rowan-less world.

When he opened his eyes, Conor expected she would be a helpless mess, sobbing on the dry grass like most of his victims after he showed them such things. Instead, she stood there blinking at him with just a few rogue tears on her cheeks.

“You think I don’t know my own fear?” Rowan rasped. “You think I haven’t looked at it every day? That I haven’t known since I was dragged to that tower on the edge of the Dark Wood at five years old? Maybe I didn’t understand fully then, but I’ve had a long time to befriend it. I know exactly what awaits me.”

Conor opened his mouth to speak, but she just held up a hand.

“Fear is a worthless emotion because it won’t save me. Fear is poison. If you take it all at once—if you let it surprise you—you’re done for. But if you take a little bit every day, it loses its potency. Sure, it takes the light out of everything, but at some point, it’s the only way to survive,” she said. “There are only things I don’t fear any longer and things I don’t know to be afraid of yet.”

Conor swallowed hard. The words were a knife slicing through his chest. He stared at her, stunned, speechless, as his magic dissipated. He’d been painfully wrong about her. She wasn’t as delicate as she appeared to be. She was strong. It took courage to live with fear as a constant companion and still hold to the hope that she could outwit her fate. He felt ashamed for missing it.

“Rowan—”

“Don’t. I don’t want an apology,” she huffed, turning back to look at him, the sun shining bright on her auburn hair. “You knew what you were doing, and you meant to do it. Don’t apologize because you found out you were wrong. Don’t apologize to assuage your own guilt. You’re not sorry yet.”

“I am,” he said. He took her hand in his. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” Rowan snapped, wrenching her hand away. She pulled too hard, stumbling into the rosebush. She let out a soft curse as she pulled back.

The scent of lavender, vanilla, and spun sugar filled the air so strongly it nearly choked Conor. It mingled with a strange, coppery scent that took him too long to recognize.

Rowan held up her trembling hand. Blood dripped from the thorn pricks into the lines on her palm in a tiny river.

Conor met her wide eyes.

“Run,” he growled. He tried to hold himself back, but he already felt powerless to the magic that demanded he devour her.

Recognition lit her eyes, and she turned and tore out of the garden.

Conor leaped to follow and was tackled to the ground by Charlie.

“Woah there, lad!” Charlie grunted. “You’re losing it. I need you to settle down now.”

“How did you know?” Conor gritted out. He didn’t know why he asked. All of his reapers could sense his moods. It was their job to reap souls but also to protect the Wolf. He growled, half-fighting Charlie, half-fighting himself for control.

He couldn’t lose Rowan the moment he realized how much he truly liked her. She might be the first woman in years strong enough to withstand what needed to be done to revive the Dark Wood and restore the balance between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead.

Charlie wrestled with him. “Fight it, Conor. I see the way you look at her, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you?—”

Conor tried with everything in him, but the pull to her was undeniable and so powerful it snapped what was left of his control. He threw Charlie across the garden and took off into the Dark Wood to hunt.

13

ROWAN

Never bleed in the Dark Wood.

Of course the rule also extended to Wolf’s Keep. Rowan tore down the trail back toward Ballybrine. She couldn’t believe she’d been so clumsy. Now the Wolf reallywasgoing to kill her.

For all her talk of bravery, watching Conor lose control was far more terrifying than anything that waited in the woods. She’d broken one of the four critical rules, and she wasn’t even confident the Mother had the power to save her so deep into the Dark Wood. She prayed to her anyway.

If Rowan didn’t get back in one piece, Aeoife was the only Red Maiden left, and she would not leave the girl to that fate. Aeoife wasn’t prepared for the forest alone, or the Wolf, or—worse—the elders.

---