Chapter 10 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
Paeonia awoke several times that night, a mess of sweat between the sheets, gasping for breath. Every time she woke, she swore Rowan loomed above her, snarling at her again.
She shut those distant nightmares away, squatting in the tangled garden, her fingers gently removing a corroded weed from between one of the pumpkin buds. If she didn’t get rid of it now, it would take over, rotting every pumpkin in the patch.
The cresting winter air blew slightly warmer today, the sun a pleasant embrace against her skin.
Distant mumblings behind her drew her attention from her gardening.
When she stood, there were four Stoneborne servants walking toward her.
She recognized Ren and Castor, but the others she hadn’t conversed with before.
“Ah, I told you she’d be out here,” Castor said with a cocky grin.
“Skipping breakfast?” Ren asked, a tinge of concern in her voice.
Paeonia had no desire to tell them about her current state of avoiding Rowan as she stood to greet them. “I…wasn’t feeling very hungry.”
Ren gave her a stern look.
“I took an apple from the kitchen,” Paeonia added to placate her. It worked well enough as Ren seemed to let it go.
Paeonia’s eyes drifted to the Stoneborne male beside Castor.
He was a bit shorter but far more lean, his hair pulled back into a ponytail.
He held his chin high. “Lord Olivander. Pleasure to finally speak with you, Lady Paeonia.” His voice had a weathered edge to it.
Even though the Stoneborne all shone the same color—making it nearly impossible to decipher useful information—she knew Lord Olivander’s hair would have been streaked with gray.
Paeonia dipped slightly in a polite greeting.
“Sybil,” the other Stoneborne woman gleamed. She hopped between her feet. Paeonia couldn’t stop the smile that mirrored Sybil’s, the woman so excited to speak. “You’re so beautiful,” she admired.
Paeonia’s cheeks warmed at the compliment.
Sybil ran a stone finger through Paeonia’s blonde hair, Paeonia flinching slightly before Sybil quickly retracted it. “Sorry.”
“Would you settle down, Sybil?” Ren scolded.
Paeonia tried to give Sybil an appeasing expression.
“Apologies. It’s just been so long since we’ve had a new face around here. I was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic with only this lot around.” The others rolled their eyes, and Sybil gave Paeonia a gentle smile in secret.
“Yes, now that we’re all acquainted,” Castor began with sarcasm clipped in his tone, “we’ve come to ask you how yesterday had gone.” All four Stoneborne focused their attention back on Paeonia, eagerly awaiting her words.
“Oh,” she said, a bit surprised.
“I’ve never been to the Night Market,” Sybil added. “Is it as vulgar as I’ve been told?” She wiggled her brows.
“Of course it’s a bit bawdy,” Castor humored. “But macabre is a better term.”
Paeonia knew now that Castor was a fae, so it made sense he had made his way into the dark dwelling of the underground Night Market at one point or another.
“It was”—Paeonia thought for a moment, unsure of how to properly convey the market—“overwhelming. Colors and people everywhere. And more wet than I expected.”
A strangled giggle left Sybil, and Paeonia’s face warmed.
Lord Olivander raised a brow like he thought her dimwitted, his hands resting on his hips. “Yes, but how did the master seem?” Lord Olivander implored. Again, all four of them focused back on Paeonia.
“He was,” Paeonia began again, “assertive.”
Sybil wiggled her brows again and gave Paeonia a cheeky grin. “Assertive and wet, eh?”
Castor and Sybil were not able to hold back their chuckles.
“What?” Paeonia asked them, confused at what they truly wanted.
“I see he had given you the key,” Lord Olivander spoke over the other two, gesturing his head toward the key that now hung around Paeonia’s neck, along with her locket.
Her fingers instinctively touched the gold. Lord Olivander spoke about the key as if he knew Rowan contemplated gifting it to her.
“How thoughtful,” Sybil exclaimed, clapping her hands together, giving Paeonia heart eyes.
Paeonia brushed her fingers down her skirt. “He only gave it to me as way to make me forget how he locked me outside the other night.”
Sybil’s smile turned into a tight line. Castor shifted on his feet.
“My dear, it’s been a long few days. Surely you’re wanting to continue your gardening work in peace,” Ren said.
Sybil pouted and Olivander shook his head, but they listened, departing, Sybil giving Paeonia a wistful look and tiny wave over her shoulder. Ren smiled sweetly before following. Castor, however, remained at Paeonia’s side.
“I’m at your command.”
Paeonia rubbed her hand on her forehead, lost. “Castor, what is—?”
Castor’s voice straightened. “Ignore them. They’re just desperate for gossip. As I’ve said, there is only so much entertainment around here.” He stood back on the main path. “I’ve come to assist in your gardening endeavors.”
Paeonia gave him a sullen smile, trying to force her mind to focus on the flora around her instead of the beast in the castle.
“What first?” Castor asked. Though Paeonia had an inkling he knew exactly what needed to be done, he was allowing room for her to feel in charge.
“I was just about to clear the weeds from the snapdragons.” She thought for a moment. “Would you be able to light the fire in the center of the summer beds? I have yet to do that, and it’s been rather chilly at night.”
Castor nodded, his lips—the only feature of his face she could see—ticked up.
Paeonia wandered to the snapdragon bed, humming a faint tune to herself.
The sunlight was gloriously warm against her face, and she hoped it would help spring her back to life.
She shook off her torment from the past few days.
All she had to do was follow Rowan’s rules and tend to his garden.
She could do that for a month’s time. She had to.
She squatted before the orange flowers, carefully detangling deadly weeds that threatened to suffocate their stems. She did that for several minutes, realizing there were far more snapdragons than she thought. By the time she made it to the other side of the bed, she had tired.
She wiped her forehead, admiring her work—the clear snapdragons waving at her in thanks.
She grinned when a small mushroom sprouted from the dirt out of the corner of her vision. She immediately took one small step to reach it. “Why, hello,” she sang.
Then another sprouted a few inches back.
“Oh!” Paeonia gasped in glee. How curious.
She moved to the new mushroom, a dingy brown one with red spots.
Another popped up a short distance away, this one peach-colored, its stem a milky white.
She followed the trail, mushrooms and little buds popping above the ground every time she approached one.
It had reminded her of when she first found Rowan’s garden, the flowers leading her, guiding her.
She hadn’t realized how far the little mushrooms had taken her, now faced with the wrought-iron gate at the far side of the gardens.
Beyond the slats, the mysterious mushrooms led a trail into the forest, beckoning her to follow.
They glowed and swayed in the absent breeze.
Tiny silverapple buds bloomed, their petals waving.
She couldn’t stop the full-toothed smile from forming on her face.
She moved to the gate—it was midday, surely she could just step outside the gate for a moment to see what the flora wanted. She immediately knew that was a bad idea, but it was as if her body moved on its own accord.
When the gate didn’t open, Paeonia took her key into her palm, leaning forward so it could fit into the lock, the wolf head looming above her. And as she turned the key, curious if it would work, it slid into place. Click.
A part of her—the rational part—told her to stay put, to not leave Rowan’s property. But the rest of her longed for the forest.
Her fingers tingled, her vision blurring, a small smile forming on her lips.
She fell into a trance, her legs working beyond her control.
She walked as though she was in a heavy dream, her feet carrying her into the soft, tickling grass that would soon be covered in snow.
Everything she left behind, faded to darkness.
A sweet melodic tune swelled in her ears, muffling Castor as he called out to her.
She wanted to turn around, to go find him, but that was quickly shaken off, and she chased the flora as they led her into the shadows. Led her into the dark forest. She couldn’t fight what was happening, and she was no longer sure she wanted to.
By the time she made it to the forest’s edge, it was too late.
Paeonia’s arms and feet were stolen from her, unable to stop the pull. The yearning of the forest beckoned.
And Paeonia answered.