Chapter 7 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
Rowan had left her alone for the rest of the day.
Paeonia tried not to mull over his words from earlier that morning, but as she made her rounds in the garden, a deep pull settled uncomfortably in her stomach.
Her hands shook when she raked large leaves from amongst the short lilac lilies, ones that were preventing the tiny buds from bathing in the sunlight. She gripped the rake’s handle tightly.
Trapped by a fae who now planned to punish her. Yet, she’d be surrounded by this extravagant garden. She shook her head. This felt like a nightmare. A gorgeous, beautiful nightmare.
She strolled as the sun began to set, her beige gloves, not meant for gardening, beginning to pinch.
She shoved them into her pocket, admiring a small alcove in a new part of the garden she had yet to explore.
She craned her neck to take a peek inside.
The small arch, a little hole in the wall of wrapping vegetation made of golden strands of wheat, branches, and billowing leaves all meshed together to create a little door.
She met darkness when she peered in, wondering where the slight bungalow could possibly lead.
She squatted so she could size it up, to see if she’d be able to fit.
She began to outstretch a leg, her hand tentatively reaching inside and resting on the wrappings, when someone cleared their throat behind her.
She jumped, springing upright and hitting her head on the overhang, a small puff of leaves fluttering around her hair at the disturbance.
She spun around, her fingers rubbing the sore spot on her scalp.
Castor gave her a minuscule grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be tending to these gardens? Cultivating these foreign plants and ostentatious flaunts of flowers that couldn’t possibly be a show to compensate for anything?”
“I am,” she refuted, running her fingers through her hair to shake off the leaves.
“Didn’t look like that to me. Looked like you were amusing yourself.”
Her face began to heat. She gestured to the setting sun and tried to stand taller. “I’ve concluded my roundabouts for the day. I was just exploring a little before I headed inside.”
He made a noise of disbelief in his throat, and Paeonia had the urge to bicker with him more on his hubris agenda, but as if he could sense the irritating argument about to stumble from her mouth, he spoke. “Did you manage to get him to answer one of your silly questions?”
Paeonia’s heart sat leaden in her chest. She did indeed manage to get him to answer a question—one she had been wondering about. She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to be wasting her daily inquiry on, but she had to start somewhere.
“Where does Rowan go at night?” She swallowed her nerves, expecting his answer to resemble that of the myths she had heard about the fae—stealing children in the night, haunting local villages.
“Why would you think he goes anywhere?” Castor questioned, beginning to walk back to the castle, slowing so Paeonia could match his pace.
She bit her lip. “The other night, in the garden, when you…” Her words trailed off. “I never properly thanked you for that.”
“No need,” he said solemnly.
“It was very selfless of you—I am truly grateful you swooped in during my moment of foolishness.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he muttered, his hand squeezing into a fist.
Paeonia raised a brow, looking at him sidelong.
“Rowan goes to the Night Market most nights. Not all, but some. Other nights, he hunts.”
“And last night?”
“He was at the Night Market,” Castor said flippantly, waving his hand as he strolled between an ocean of azalea flowerbeds.
Paeonia almost slipped on a loose stone along the path, grabbing Castor’s stone arm for support. He grimaced, and she quickly let go. She awkwardly fiddled with her hands. “What is the Night Market, exactly?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Ah,” he said, shaking his head at her—she had already asked her one question.
She let out an aggravated sigh. She wanted to plead that it wasn’t fair to give her such little information, but she refrained, as she always did—always wanting to please, never wanting to be a pest. And who was she to dictate what was and wasn’t a fair deal?
When they finally made it to the castle’s side entrance, Paeonia looking through the glass doors as she ascended the steps, Rowan stood glaring at the two of them. Castor rolled his neck like he was nervous about something that lay ahead.
“Don’t give up,” Castor rushed at her.
She cocked her head, ready to ask him what he meant, when Rowan opened the door. Castor took a step inside, and when Paeonia went to follow, Rowan blocked her way.
He tsked. “Not so fast.” He appraised her without thought, making her shudder. A vicious smile overtook his features, and he shined with that predatory thrall. “You think I make jokes? That I wasn’t being entirely serious on my promise earlier?”
She didn’t know. Maybe some part of her hoped he had just been wanting to scare her.
“I don’t enjoy being disobeyed,” he added more seriously.
“I promise to never disobey your rules again. I swear it,” she pleaded quietly, her eyes sinking, the embarrassment overbearing as Castor listened to her pathetic words.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Castor mumbled to Rowan just beyond the threshold.
“No, you won’t,” Rowan addressed Paeonia. He handed her a loaf of bread with a slice of cheese inside it. Paeonia inspected it as he directed his attention to Castor. “You know we have to.” Rowan shut the doors, glaring at her from behind the glass.
“You’re going to lock me outside like a dog?” Her voice a soft hush, her breath fogging the glass.
He grinned, and she could hear the answer he didn’t speak: she’s to be treated like the pet she was.
The lock clicked into place with a thud, and her eyes must have widened in disbelief because Rowan grunted a satisfied sound.
He gave her one last look before disappearing into the castle’s depths. Paeonia rested her head against the glass, one hand cupping around her eyes, trying to find Castor—maybe he’d let her inside, take pity on her. But the foyer stood empty.
She walked back into the garden, the sun moments away from disappearing under the horizon in its entirety.
She should find a place to hide soon instead of anticipating Rowan strolling back over to tell her it was all a ruse just to scare her, to remind her what little power she held while she resided under his roof.
She solemnly chewed her bread, pouting as she wasted time on false hopes. She moved to the small shed, hoping to slip inside, but the door was locked. She kicked it in sheer frustration, stubbing her toe in the process. “Why is everything always locked?”
She bit the inside of her mouth, trying to remain tall, not allowing Rowan’s sadistic and barbarous retribution to force her to her knees.
The soft candles that hung magically in the garden’s path began to light one by one.
She kept to the main path, hoping an idea would sprout in her mind eventually.
After several minutes and finishing her bread, she knew she managed to get lost, the sun no longer guiding her way, realizing she had entered another new stretch of the estate she had yet to explore in the daylight.
The castle glowed faintly in the distance, a taunting reminder that safety was so close, but out of reach. What if the wolves came back? Rowan had said he’d be with her, but she had watched as he withdrew into his castle. Paeonia tried to will her shudders away, her body growing cold.
The sun set, the garden immediately cast in dark shadows.
She decided to veer off the pathway, hauling through several bushes, a loud twig snapping somewhere behind her.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder, her eyes darting, but she saw nothing.
She moved a bit faster than before, a slight bounce in her step.
When she emerged on the other side of the berry bushes, she tripped over an exposed root and collapsed onto the cobblestone. On her knees in frustration and anger, just as Rowan wanted. “Damn, beast,” she swore.
She bit her lip, trying to convince herself she was being silly, that she was being paranoid.
The alcove she investigated earlier sprang to mind, her lips pursing as the idea bloomed.
At least it would provide some shelter. She could curl up there for the night.
She might not be entirely safe, but she’d fool her mind into thinking she was protected by the bramble walls.
Footfalls flanking her froze her in her tracks. Her eyes darted to her side. Again, nothing. Silence.
Her hand slid to her locket and clung to it, her fingers tightening on the cool metal.
She steadied her breathing, focusing on the sparse, floating candles, trying to calm her mind and racing heart.
When she began to move again, heading toward where she thought she remembered the alcove being, something shifted out of the corner of her eye.
Something large and dark. A shadow. When she traced it, her feet beginning to take her away, the small marigold trees shuddered as if someone had just shoved through them.
“By the stars,” she said in defeat, her voice wobbling. She shifted into a slight sprint, wanting to move faster, but finding it difficult to see. She’d have to stick to the main path if she wanted any semblance of light to guide her.
A low growl echoed in the distance, and Paeonia sucked in a shattered breath, her throat closing.
She tried to stop herself from sobbing, but the sounds escaped her mouth against her permission in a clipping groan.
She didn’t look back—she just kept running toward her refuge.
Hoping it wasn’t a wolf or the Eldritch that made that terrifying noise.