Chapter 7 Paeonia #2
She made it to her reprieve in one piece, dropping to her knees and crawling into the tiny bower.
The inside was dark and shrouded from the light, but it seemed to go deeper than she thought.
She went far enough inside the borough to hide in the shadows, then curled up and attempted to still her beating heart.
The wind howled, and the bramble shook in the breeze. She hummed faintly to herself. Rowan wouldn’t truly let her sleep out here all night if it put her in harm’s way…
It was agonizing, but eventually, after worrying herself sick, she fell into the semblance of a fitful slumber.
She awoke with wide eyes, shifting the wrapping vines as much as she could, spying the moon through the gap.
The moon still hung high in the sky; she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours, if that.
She wondered why she had sprung to life so fast, but her question was soon answered—heavy steps echoing on the cobbled path.
Deep breathing. A faint rumble of a creature growling.
It sounded like it stood on two legs, not four like the wolves or stag. But the footsteps were too quiet to be Stoneborne. She sank deeper into the borough, feeling like a rabbit hiding from a fox.
“I can smell you. A little flower amongst the burgeoning foliage,” he purred. While his voice sounded deeper than usual, she knew it was Rowan, even if just by the demeaning pet name he called her.
She scrambled to her knees and crawled further into the borough, hoping there was an exit on the opposite side.
Her fingers sank into wet mud, and she held in her disgusted gasp.
She finally reached another opening, and she let out a breath of relief.
As she climbed out, she listened for any movement.
When she heard none, no footsteps or breathing, she scoped out the new surroundings.
This section of the garden was darker than the rest. A new part she had yet to wander through.
Bushes of dark-leaved plants sprouted all around her in a circle.
A small dais of weathered stone lay in the center, onyx flowers climbing and clinging to it.
She curiously walked farther into this odd alcove, momentarily forgetting about her predicament.
She strolled around the dais, noticing a statue between each bush that encircled the area, almost like some sort of ceremonial ring.
Far more intricate and foreboding than the statues she saw in other sections of the garden.
These statues seemed older, their stone cracked, rusted over with moss.
She wondered how long they had resided here.
When she reached the antithesis of the parterre, the bushes came to a rounding end.
A small archway of poison ivy surrounded the mouth of a path, and she followed it, slipping into another small inlet.
A scream slipped from her, her hand flying to cover her lips.
Before her, a large alder tree, its bark a deep navy color, was barely lit from the moon’s stray beams. Off several of the extending branches, hung by a thick rope, were the oversized bodies of wolves.
Three of them. All dangling upside down, their paws tied together, blood encrusted on their gray and brown fur.
She couldn’t help but look at them curiously, mushrooms appearing to sprout throughout their fur.
They were almost three times the size of normal wolves.
Seeing them up close, their mouths hung loose, razor sharp teeth glistening white, she shivered. Almost fell back and balked.
Her eyes kept moving, unable to sit still, tracing over each wolf carcass, until she settled on wrought-iron gates, another entrance to the garden, and she momentarily wondered how many gates the garden had.
There, atop the gates, impaled on the uppermost spike, was the fourth wolf.
Its throat had been butchered, no clean swipe of a blade, blood dripping down its patchy fur.
It sagged against the iron poles, a daunting threat to any who might wish to enter through those gates.
And how easy it would be to make out the giant wolves from outside the gate, their bodies hanging on display.
A warning. If someone approached the garden, all they’d have to do was look up, and they’d see four dead wolves decorating each side.
Her lip wobbled in fear. Rowan must have done this.
She didn’t realize he’d be capable of such true malice.
The animal’s bodies didn’t seem to have any specific wounds that would indicate a weapon.
No arrow had pierced its skin. No sharp knife had slit their throats.
Had he killed these monsters with his own bare hands?
“Do you like my welcoming embellishments? I think it’s a rather potent greeting. Gets the message across.”
Her back muscles tensed, Rowan’s voice caressing her like she imagined an incubus’ would. His feet shuffled on the grass behind her, a wraith waiting to claim what he was owed. She didn’t turn around.
“You’re sick.”
He laughed, the sound rolling in his chest. “You’d have rather me let them live after hunting you?”
She remained quiet, afraid to say more.
“They’d have come back for you, now that they know where you are.”
He said it like Paeonia was something special, like they wanted her specifically. He shifted closer behind her, the warmth from his body radiating strongly enough to seep through her overcoat.
“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked.
She knew he wanted to scare her, maybe even hurt her.
“Look at me, Paeonia.”
When she didn’t shift to do as he commanded, he growled the request again, but he didn’t touch her. Didn’t yank her body the way he wanted like that first night when he made her accept his touch on her neck.
She did as she was demanded, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut, spinning to face him.
He laughed. “Afraid of what you might see?” he asked her. His voice sounded different. More feral. More animalistic.
She nodded, her fingers shaking at her sides.
“Now, what could be worse than what you have already witnessed?”
She grimaced at the memory of the desecrated creatures sure to never leave her mind.
She pried her eyes open slowly, staring straight ahead at his chest. He stood about a foot away from her.
Protracted claws taunted her at his side, and she froze in sheer terror.
He stood in shadows, a streak of darkness from the taller trees shielding his face, his hood pulled on.
Her lips wobbled. “D-do all fae…?” Her words faded into the night. She had wanted to ask if all the fae had claws.
“What do you think?”
She swallowed, and she wished she could see his eyes to know if he traced her bobbing throat. She worried he was going to spring at her, sink his teeth into her throat and finally kill her. He was just like the wolves he warned her about.
“How about this, pet: If you can get inside the castle, without me catching you, I’ll let you resume your stay as planned.”
She blinked several times. “I won’t have to sleep out here tonight?”
He grunted in response.
“Yes. Okay.”
She could hear his grin when he spoke. “I’ll give you a ten-second head start.”
Her eyebrows knitted together as she took a stumbling step away from him.
He gestured his head forward, then he began counting. “One… Two…”
With no time to think, Paeonia took off running.