Page 13 of Crown of Roses
A prickle of unease crept along her shoulders and down her spine. The world shimmered, just slightly, and her blood hummed a low, haunting melody. She angled herself so she could peer out of the bars. Someone was there, lurking in the shadows of the forest.
“Show yourself!” Her voice echoed into the growth of trees and mangled vines. “I know you’re out there.”
Her eyes skimmed the bushes and branches. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. There was no birdsong, no whisper of the wind, and even the ocean’s chilling call seemed to soften. The sun was already high, but a thick wall of clouds blanketed the sky in shades of gray, and the air was dense with the threat of rain. Low-lying clouds crawled along the cliffside and floated through the brush of brambles and stone. She strained against the haze of fog to see what loitered past the rocky ground, to the sparse woods beyond. Basked in shadows, a figure emerged from behind the aged oak tree.
“Good afternoon.” Rowan stepped into her view and the bank of silver mist seemed to part for him. His cloak of midnight moved and flowed of its own accord. His shirt still gaped open, revealing his scarred chest. But it was different this time. Some of them looked fresh. Some of them looked sticky.
Her grip tightened on the bars of the cage, until her fingers dug into her palm. “What are you doing here?”
He strolled toward the edge of the cliffs, his lavender eyes alight with amusement. “I believe the real question is, what are you doing here?”
Maeve bristled against his mocking tone. “It’s just a punishment.” Though she didn’t know what for this time.
“A punishment? For what?” Rowan moved closer, and his bemused expression took in the curved, bird-like cage with its tarnished metal and feeble planks. “Have you done something naughty?”
“No, ” she snapped, annoyed with how easily he scraped under her skin. “And even if I did,” she fired back, “it wouldn’t be any concern of yours.”
Rowan chuckled. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose pants and kicked a few random rocks off the cliffside. They fell for an eternity before being swallowed by the frothing sea.
Maeve shuddered.
“Humans are such curious creatures.” His gaze swept over her, lingering on her hips before settling on her mouth. “They claim to feel all these emotions. Fear. Grief. Love. Yet their hatred of one another is stronger than any of those.”
“I don’t hate my mother.” She ground the words out.
He blinked. “I never said you did.”
Maeve opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She would have to be extremely careful with whatever she said to him. The fae were notorious for taking things out of context, for being exceptionally literal, for twisting words, and weaving them into contracts that could last an eternity.
She shifted. “My mother doesn’t hate me, either.”
“Doesn’t she though?” Rowan murmured and his words wrapped around her like the kiss of night. “Why else would she lock you into a cage, if not to instill fear? A fear so deep, you risk never overcoming it? Why would she volunteer you to go to the fae realm, where you are more than likely to meet your death?”
Maeve had hoped certain death wasn’t a real possibility once they arrived in Faeven, but now she was beginning to realize it was more likely than not. Again, though, she would face it when it looked her in the eyes. When she failed to answer him, Rowan’s arms shot out and he grabbed the bars of the cage, covering both of her hands with his own. Maeve flinched, but he held the cage steady, and she couldn’t look away from him. She could barely breathe. His eyes, pools of pale purple, were flecked with silver stars. Waves of teal hair fell over one side of his face and rippled in the sea breeze like a wave. His fingers were warm over hers, and when she finally caught her breath, she inhaled the scent of dusk. Of night jasmine, wooded moss, mountain sage.
She jerked her hands free from his hold.
“Why have I never seen you in the palace before?” Her pointed gaze focused on his chest, where fresh slashes ripped his shirt. To where the flesh had been torn open by something sharp and jagged. “You’re obviously indebted to my mother.”
It was a low blow, but he took it without even blinking. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say indebted…held captive against my will is more like it.”
She didn’t like to consider the thought that her mother made a habit of keeping faeries as slaves. “A pet, then?”
He eased back onto the edge of the cliff, releasing the cage, and Maeve held her breath when bits of rock and debris tumbled down the side. His hands spread wide, displaying his cuffs with purpose. “Pet. Slave. It’s all the same when your power is taken from you.”
The insult jabbed her in the ribs and she bristled against the harsh scrape of truth. “I am not a pet. Or a slave.”
“Perhaps not.” The corner of Rowan’s mouth ticked upward. “Maybe you’re something else, Princess. Something more. Maybe the reason your mother binds you in cuffs, diminishes your beauty, and keeps you from the greatness you are destined to become, is because she sees you as something greater. Like a weapon."
Something about the way he spoke to her struck a nerve. The way he thought he knew her. It set Maeve’s nerves on fire. “These cuffs are meant to protect everyone else.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
His brows shot up and a laugh burst from him. “From you?”
“You know nothing about me.” She grit her teeth and slammed the metal bound to her wrists against the bars of the cage. “Nothing good comes from being cursed, Rowan. Not ever. I’m the bastard daughter of a sorceress. Do you really think the Mother Goddess would look kindly upon me? These cuffs protect everyone around me from the monster lurking just beneath the surface.”
