Chapter 4 Paeonia #2
He scoffed. “Do you always wait for permission?”
Paeonia shifted her gaze away from the fearsome fae. She’d have to get used to his way of life, the way he did things. Apparently, she didn’t need to wait for him to begin eating. He did so many things differently than she was used to.
“Worrisome little human,” he spoke under his breath.
She pursed her lips in agitation but didn’t speak more. Instead, she followed suit and filled her plate with various foods.
Once Paeonia had at least had enough to soothe her rumbling stomach, she broke through the quiet. “Does no one else usually eat with you?”
He remained silent, shoveling food into his daunting mouth. She tried to swallow her thoughts, but they spilled out of her anyway.
“Why dine with me if you can barely even stand to look in my direction?” she said softly, as opposed to the irritating way she felt them in her heart. “You could have just sent a tray to my room.” Her voice trailed off as Rowan slowly lifted his head, setting his fork down.
Her mouth went dry. He was unlike anything she had ever seen before.
While fae were said to have resembled humans, she had also been told they’d look otherworldly…
and Rowan did, but not in the pleasant way as she imagined.
He appeared like he hated his existence, like he suffered waking each morning, and all that hatred showed across his skin.
In his downturned eyes. In his sonorous voice.
She had heard tales of the fae being beautiful enough to coerce humans to do their biddings. And in Paeonia’s eyes, Rowan wasn’t ugly, but rather…distasteful. Rugged and jagged. Overwhelming. Not at all how she pictured lithe fae to be. Yet, he still seemed to drag her into a bargain just the same.
“You take me for a beast?”
She gasped when she realized he had sprouted claws that wrapped tightly around the table’s edge.
Rowan bared his teeth, questioning her once more when she didn’t respond. “Is that it?”
She opened her mouth to argue, to say that’s not what she intended—though, it did seem to fit with the way he lost his temper—
“You’ve determined with your minuscule knowledge that fae are feral animals, that pilfer and steal whatever they desire, including humans.
That we’re too uncivilized to entertain keeping our guests alive long enough to dine with them.
That I wouldn’t dare let a servant eat with me, even if they were the only company I saw for centuries.
” He glared at her. “Or is it just me you think so lowly of?”
“I…” She choked on her words.
“You, what?” he bated through clenched teeth.
“I’m just confused.” How he managed to infer so many things from her one question baffled her. She hadn’t thought anything of the sort!
He sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out his nostrils. “Yes, that much has been made clear.”
“I’m sorry,” she almost shouted. “I admit, I had never learned much about the fae beyond what they whisper in the city. Small conversations from traveling merchants—fae sneaking into the human realm to steal children and leave a changeling in their stead. I hadn’t thought they were true.
” Her hands gestured meekly, trying to keep her presence as minute as possible.
“Hadn’t thought fae were real?”
She bit her lip. “Perhaps. Or I suppose I just assumed fae were a lost entity. Something that may have roamed this realm centuries ago but have since been lost to time—a thing of the past.”
“Well, it gives me great displeasure to assure you we are not a thing of the past.”
She cringed at how her own wording sounded. She really should mind her tongue a bit more when in the clawed grasp of the very species she was denouncing.
Their voices sank away, drifting into the evening air. Rowan resumed eating, and Paeonia uncomfortably gazed about the room.
That stout fellow awkwardly hobbled back, pretending to serve Rowan more food, but quite obviously just wanting to whisper in his ear. He spoke so quietly that Paeonia couldn’t make out a word.
When the creature seemed content to have told Rowan what he needed, he exited the room from where he came, forgetting the plate he walked in with on the table.
Rowan locked eyes with her, and Paeonia’s breath lodged in her throat. “Go on,” he grumbled.
She gently shook her head.
“Ask me more of your tedious questions.”
She swallowed her nerves. “Why do you need me, of all people, to tend to your gardens? That hardly seems like a reasonable trade, especially for a fae.”
He tilted his head like he was appraising prey—and that’s exactly how Paeonia felt. She squirmed in her seat.
“My last gardener left. And now I’ve no one to mend my flowers.”
Left… She thought about that word for a moment. “With all due respect, your castle seems to be…lacking repairs. And yet the garden is something you care deeply about preserving?” Her eyebrows furrowed.
Rowan spoke like every breathed word was painful for him to calmly enunciate. “When fae reside in this realm, they become reliant on nature. It’s where we draw our magic from.”
She nodded, suddenly listening with fierce intensity. He must have noticed her new intrigue because his face grew tense.
“I’ve become reliant on my garden. If it withers, as do I.”
Her eyes broadened. How awful that must be, to constantly be looking out at the flora, hoping none of them decide to be difficult this season.
“But, I’m only here for a month.”
He shook his head. “By that time, winter will have fully settled. The garden will freeze, and I will be good until spring.”
“You’ll need a new gardener then?”
“Seems I will.”
She wondered why he would only require her for a month if he could make her stay longer. Now he’d have to go through the trouble of finding another gardener after she left. Her thoughts must have been blatant on her face because he responded as if she spoke the words aloud.
“While you humans seem to deem us unfair in our bargains, we cannot exchange things that outweigh one another. For simply allowing you refuge to escape your tedious engagement, I could not ask for more than a month.”
She nodded, her fingers unconsciously twiddling in her lap.
“But that’s not to say I couldn’t find more of a reason to bargain with you to stay after the month runs out.”
She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. He seemed to trace the movements.
“Or perhaps, I’ll just bar the doors and not let you leave.”
Her lips parted, ready to accuse him of being unfair.
“I might make magical binding deals, little flower, but that doesn’t dissuade my corruption otherwise. If I want you to stay, I’ll get you to stay.”
The threat was palpable, the air tightening. The walls groaned, a harsh wind shaking the window panes. A few of the candles hanging above flickered, the shadows only casting Rowan as more eerie.
She wanted to tell him not to call her “little flower,” that she had a name, but she only bit her lip. He broke eye contact, watching the sun slowly sink over the horizon, ready to be tucked away behind the evergreens.
“To your rooms,” he demanded.
“But, I thought—”
“Now,” he growled, his head whipping in her direction.
She frantically stood and moved to the door, opening it to find Yvette and the tiny creature absent. She wrung her hands together, almost afraid to peer over her shoulder at the looming fae.
“I don’t know the way,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, ready for him to roar at her in fury.
Instead, his loud footfalls stomped around her, the gust of movement fluttering her skirts, a wave of earthy musk filling her senses. She quickly hustled to follow in pursuit, his strides far longer than her own.
She tried to memorize the way, but she realized he was taking her down corridors she had never seen before. She knew she had never passed a large fireplace or a sitting room with glass doors last time.
“Where are you—?” she began. Her words slipped away when he halted in front of her door. Oh, she feared she was never going to memorize the layout.
“Thank-k you,” she muttered.
He turned to leave when she foolishly called out again. “Please,” she begged. “The fireplace… It’s been so cold, I don’t—”
He turned on the balls of his feet, glancing out the window at the end of the hallway before shoving past her. She followed him inside and watched as he waved his hand, the fireplace flickering alive. She let out a relieved breath, knowing she wouldn’t completely freeze tonight.
As he went to leave, he stopped beside her, shooting daggers. “Do not leave your room.”
She should have asked him about that at dinner. Should have questioned him why he seemed so adamant about her staying in her rooms at night when she did not incline to leave.
“You do know your castle resembles a labyrinth, right?” Did he expect someone as foolish as her—as he would have called her—to have a desire to leave her room at night and stumble about these twisty halls?
“Do not think too hard on it,” he muttered before storming out of the room, making her jump when he slammed her door behind him. Then she heard the click of the lock.