Page 89 of Song of the Dark Wood

She’d asked to stay the night before without bothering to explain why. He was going to deny her—he didn’t need the temptation—but she’d looked at him with such desperation in her eyes that he couldn’t bear to send her away so soon. He didn’t like the weakness she pulled out of him and she’d been so sullen since she asked if she could wear red and he’d turned her down.

Even now, she just stared at the chess pieces as if expecting them to move of their own accord. Rowan typically relished the opportunity to try to beat him at chess. Conor foundher determination charming, but now she seemed strangely withdrawn. Even her posture was slouched, as if life had taken the air right out of her.

He replayed everything that happened the last time she was at Wolf’s Keep. Perhaps it was just a reaction to his admission about devouring. She’d left in a huff, but he’d noticed that her temper tended to burn hot all at once and then reduce to a simmer.

Conor moved his queen. It was an idiotic move, one that she should have pounced on immediately. Instead, she just stared at the board like she’d never played before. When she moved a pawn instead of taking advantage of the huge mistake he’d made, he finally spoke up.

“What’s on your mind? You seem more than a little distracted.”

Her eyes scanned the board, and she slapped a hand to her forehead and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I missed that.”

“If you don’t want to play?—”

“I do. I just think that my mind is not all here tonight. Perhaps I should just have some tea and go to bed,” she said.

She stood, and Conor grabbed her hand.

“Please stay and play. We can start over.”

She hesitated before sinking back into the chair and resetting her pieces. Then she just stared at the board.

“What do you want, little Red?” Conor asked.

Rowan looked dumbfounded by the question. She wrung her hands. “Why are you asking?”

It was an accusation, and it made sense from a woman the whole world only saw as someone from whom they could get something.

He sighed and shook his head. “Has anyone ever asked you that?”

“No,” she admitted. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “I think I’d like some peace. I’d like to live a simple life with a garden and a little cottage.” She shook her head. “It sounds so pathetic when I say it.”

“I don’t think so,” Conor said.

She blinked her eyes open and glowered at him. “Says the god who lives in a creepy mansion in the woods. As if you’re a paragon of normalcy.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. “Still, I imagine that for you, the village is noisy and overwhelming. Plus, you’ve spent most of your life being stared at. I can understand the desire to blend in—to move about without notice. What else?”

She ran her fingers over her collarbone as she considered. She did it every time she thought hard about something. It was the most innocuous movement, but catching her small habits filled him with warmth—when she wrung her hands nervously or brushed a phantom hair behind her ear when she was embarrassed.

It’s just magic designed to draw you in, Conor thought. Still, he found every little habit incredibly compelling. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so fixated on someone, and he was certain it was unhealthy.

“I’d want to grow herbs, of course, but also frivolous flowers that are just beautiful. I’d read books, as many as I could.” She smiled and her cheeks pinked.

“And would you live there alone?” Conor asked.

The glimpse of light in her eyes winked out, and her face shuttered. “I’d like to go to bed now,” she said flatly.

He’d pushed too hard.Stupid, Conor, always trying to peel away her layers when you hate having your own peeled.

Still, he couldn’t curb the impulse. He wanted to know and understand Rowan. Beyond that, she deserved to be treated like a person with hopes and dreams. The more he could humanizeher in his own mind, the more he might be able to withstand his impulses.

“Rowan, you can tell me if something’s wrong,” he said softly.

She sighed. “Something more than the fact that I’ve lived my whole life waiting to die at your hands? You want to know what I want? I want to change the bargain to protect myself and Aeoife.”

Conor scrubbed a hand down his face. “I cannot give you that, Rowan. It’s so much more complicated than what I want.”

He wanted to argue with her, but the truth was he knew what it was to live with a near-constant dread. Dread was his new companion every time she set foot in the Dark Wood. Still, he wanted to remind her that fear meant she had something to lose.

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