Page 62 of Song of the Dark Wood

“The worst he can say is no, but it’s supposed to be stormy tomorrow night anyway. Give it a try,” Sarai suggested.

“I’m really scared, Sarai. I used to fear almost nothing, but now it feels like there is so much to lose. There are all thesethings I didn’t know to want, and now I can’t stop myself from wanting them,” Rowan said.

“Why would you stop yourself?”

“Because I feel like I only have part of this story. When I found Orla’s bloody cloak in his closet, I thought the Wolf killed her, but after being attacked by that other beast, I don’t think that’s true. And while I know Conor is responsible for the blight, I feel like there’s more to that as well. I have all these puzzle pieces, and none of them fit together, and if I don’t figure it out soon, I’m going to get hurt.”

Sarai looked at the healed wound on her neck, still purple against her fair skin.

“Morehurt,” Rowan corrected.

“Just take a breath. One thing at a time. You said you’re looking for the Maiden journals, right?”

Rowan nodded.

“Start there, and we will figure the rest out as we go. I’ll try to see what I can get from my inspired meditation about the blight,” Sarai said.

Rowan nodded. They spent another hour gathering herbs before Rowan snuck back to the tower, comforted by the plan she and Sarai had made.

16

CONOR

Conor stared out into the fading sunlight through his study windows. He had hunted to the northern edge of the Dark Wood but still found no trace of Valen. He didn’t know how the vampire managed to evade him so easily. He was certain that Valen was responsible for Orla’s death beyond the shadow of a doubt. He’d known the moment he saw her body, but Rowan’s encounter only confirmed it.

It made him furious that a monster in his own woods felt confident enough to steal from him. Even the wildest beast in the Dark Wood knew the Wolf’s scent and knew that the Maidens were his. It might not have protected them from his own impulses, but it was meant to deter everything else in the forest.

He couldn’t escape the haunting memory of Rowan’s dying song or the terrified look on her face when she woke up after the attack.

Valen had taken off by the time Conor and Charlie arrived. He must have heard them coming and thought it better to flee. Either way, they’d found Rowan bleeding on a bed of soft ferns.

Conor hated Valen for leaving him with these exhausting visions playing on repeat in his head of all the ways that someone like Valen could ruin Rowan.

Still, those visions were preferable to remembering how it felt to kiss Rowan. She was chipping away at the shield he’d built to protect himself and everyone else. He’d given up fighting the impulse to do it. Her near-death stoked his urgency. He’d kissed her, half-expecting to feel the burnt sugar taste in his mouth that indicated a lie in her action, but it never came.

She’d been just as eager, and not because it was her duty, but because she genuinely wanted to. Conor had quickly shifted from being the aggressor to the one who was falling apart. If he’d let himself continue, they would have ended up naked right then and there. No matter how badly he wanted that, he could not have it. It was a spectacularly bad idea.

Never before had he experienced such a loss of self-control so soon into meeting a new Maiden. It was reckless to both their health and safety.

He shook his head.Get a grip, Conor. She’s just a pretty girl with magic designed to make you want to consume her.

Rowan, with her auburn hair, bright green eyes, and scandalous dresses. She would drive him out of his mind. He’d gone through more whiskey in the past month than in the prior six months with Orla.

Rowan would arrive tonight, and he already wanted to ask her to stay an extra night. Perhaps he’d been at this too long and he was tired. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to welcome his own undoing.

Conor needed to stay focused. Valen’s ambition was evident, and his latest antics with Orla and Rowan were a clear sign of just how much Conor needed to show his power. The faith of the people of Ballybrine was what strengthened him, and thanks to the blight reaching the edge of the Dark Wood, along with Orla’sdeath, it seemed everyone’s faith in him was renewed. Still, people were fickle, and he didn’t need them or Rowan to realize the power she had, or the way she could choose which god of death to serve.

He sat there for so long he’d missed the sunset. He felt the moment Rowan entered the Dark Wood like a skip in a heartbeat. The favor he’d given her alerted him to her nearness. He made his way out to the keep gates and waited. The evening was quiet, but it smelled like a storm. Dark clouds blotted out the moon, making the forest appear darker than usual.

A short while later, he heard her voice, angelic and serene as it sliced through the night. She turned the corner, her red cloak covering all but small glimpses of the white silk dress beneath as spirits processed behind her. She paused at the gates and knelt gracefully.

Conor tended to the spirits before reaching out to her.

“Conor,” she said, meeting his gaze with a sly smile as she took his hand.

“Rowan,” he said, forcing a frown.

She glanced over her shoulder at the Dark Wood. “It seems a storm is coming. Would it be all right if I stayed?”

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