If the Wolf knew that, it meant he wanted to take something from her.
Rowan’s hand flew to her right thigh, where the dagger and holster the Mother had presented her with were still hidden. She let out a sigh of relief.
What if he’d felt it when he was kissing her, and that’s why he ran? He could be preparing right now to kill her.
She stood and crossed the room on tiptoes. She tried to ignore the vicious spinning in her head. How much blood did she lose to feel so faint?
She ignored the not-so-subtle requests from her body to slow down. She cracked the door open and peeked out. The entire mansion was silent. She sharpened her senses as she stepped out into the hall. Her mind still felt fuzzy and her mouth dry, but she forced herself to focus on the magic that still curled and uncurled inside of her, like leaves reaching toward the sunshine.
Rowan was drawn down the corridor by the stillness that surrounded Conor. She found that she could follow its signature through the mansion with ease. She traced it down the stairs through the main sitting room to the foyer. She hesitated for only a moment at the entrance to the east wing, a place Conor had forbidden her to go. She walked through the dim corridor until it opened into a cavernous hall.
Arched ceilings and large glass windows cast the space in a strange, pale light that made the shadows appear twice as sinister and consuming. Rowan stilled. Sadness permeated the room, which must have once been quite grand. Nature had taken over, crumbling the dark green marble floor, which split to reveal a babbling stream and moss-covered rocks that led down to a dark tunnel. It was beautiful in a lonely, haunted way—the same way the Dark Garden was.
The impulse to explore was consuming, but Rowan forced herself back to the task at hand. She wasn’t a princess in a magical abandoned mansion like in the fairy tales she read to Aeoife. Rowan was a lonely sacrifice in death’s house. She could not afford mistakes.
She needed to confront Conor, and she was too lightheaded to be trusted on a hike down to an unknown dark place. She wanted to stay for a while and see why the space was forbidden, but the soft tinkle of piano music drew her attention.
Turning down the first hallway, she followed the passage as the music grew louder. Finally, she reached the doorway from which it emanated. She peeked through the cracked door and found Conor bent over the piano. The music was lovely—somehow sad and angry at the same time. His fingers flew over the keys, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. He swayed as if the melody moved through him before he played the notes.
She couldn’t explain why seeing him so consumed by the song made her want to cry. Rowan had never witnessed anyone else so overwhelmed by music. She didn’t know anyone else felt what she did when she sang—like she’d willingly be swept away by it if it would take her. The same emotion she poured into the songs she made up—the songs that held all her loneliness, heartache, rage—he poured into his playing. It was mesmerizing.
When the song ended, Conor leaned his forehead against the keys and sighed heavily. It was too vulnerable. Rowan felt likethe ignorant hunters who wandered into delicate habitats, not realizing the damage they might do.
Guilt twisted her stomach in knots. She ducked away and rushed back to her room. Laying down in her bed, her heart still pounding, she stared into the dark and waited for the confusion to subside.
14
ROWAN
Rowan stared miserably into her oatmeal, frustrated to be eating it back in her room at Maiden’s Tower. Failure made her appetite elusive.
After she’d made it safely through the night at Wolf’s Keep, Conor sent her back to Ballybrine without a second glance. He seemed wholly uninterested in her, and she’d never felt more aware of her lack of experience. When he left the room after kissing her, he’d looked afraid of her, but when he returned later, he was stoic and completely unmoved.
Now that she was certain he hadn’t killed Orla, there was no barrier between them. When she thought about the kiss, a violent flush lit her from within and her skin prickled with goosebumps. She’d never felt so consumed by something. She didn’t understand what she’d done wrong.
Conor was certainly distracted by things that he did not trust her enough to share. Rowan desperately needed to be more desirable.
Her thoughts spun like a tempest. Rowan barely noticed when Mrs. Teverin pushed into the room.
“Rowan, Elder Garrett wants to see you,” Mrs. Teverin said. “I’ll go with you.”
Rowan nodded. She smoothed her dress and shuddered. She hadn’t even seen the elder yet, but she already felt dirty.
“Relax, lass. I’ll not let anything bad happen to you,” Mrs. Teverin soothed.
Rowan followed her tutor out of the tower. Outside the sunlight was blinding. A cool pine-scented wind whipped across the square as they walked to the temple. Mrs. Teverin pulled the heavy temple door open and ushered Rowan inside. They paused in front of the large wood door to Elder Garrett’s office.
Mrs. Teverin held her hand poised to knock and looked to Rowan, as if checking that she was ready. Rowan nodded.
The door swung open, and Elder Garrett was startled by the sight of the two of them. “Mrs. Teverin, this is a lovely surprise, though I’m afraid I have a private matter to discuss with Rowan.”
Rowan kept her eyes focused on the gray swirls in the white marble floor, but still, she felt Elder Garrett’s gaze like a weight on her shoulders.
“Yes, but I happened upon Rowan just after the last time I trusted you alone with her, and I understand some liberties were taken,” Mrs. Teverin challenged. She crossed her arms and glared at him.
Rowan couldn’t believe Mrs. Teverin addressed things so directly.
Elder Garrett, for his part, feigned confusion. “I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean,” he said solemnly.