Chapter 14 Paeonia #2
Paeonia’s face warmed as she silently loaded her plate. Rowan’s gaze remained on her even as she avoided him, his stare searing flames onto her skin as he traced her movements. She swallowed harshly, trying to distract herself from the fact that he was appraising her with far too much scrutiny.
“What do you know about the forsaken?” she finally asked, meeting his eyes from across the table.
He leaned back in his seat and grinned. “No ‘good morning’ first?”
She swallowed a stilted breath. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “Good morning.”
Rowan didn’t seem very pleased even as she did what he asked. He sat a little straighter, his eyes lingering on a point somewhere behind her. “I know it’s affecting you humans like the plague.”
She perked up.
“I know it’s going to get worse if he’s not stopped.”
“If who’s not stopped?”
He reached for a piece of toast and set it on his plate. “The Eldritch.”
Paeonia blinked stupidly several times. She thought back to the creatures who stole her in the woods and the monster that approached her.
“The Eldritch,” Rowan solidified. “He’s a nasty being. The one in charge of stealing you out from under me.” He rolled his neck before taking a bite of his bread. “He’s making the woods…indisposed.”
“Why would he have wanted me?”
Rowan stared at her silently for several beats. “I don’t know.”
“But you know that he stole me…with incentive?”
“I know what I said,” he hissed. “I don’t truly know why the Eldritch wants you. But I know why he wants me. Why he thinks he can play with my pet.”
Paeonia’s jaw went taut at the name calling. “Why would he target you?”
“The Eldritch was supposed to be the guardian of the forest. And before the Gleam Fae died off, they named a Grim Fae guardian. And, well, given our nature, he was easier to corrupt. Now, I’m the only one who can stop him. The only true Grim Fae left in Lyth.”
Paeonia tried to wrap her mind around Rowan’s words. “You can stop him?”
He nodded.
“But, how?” How could he stop something that seemed to rule the woods?
“With my other form,” he said flatly. “My wyld glamour.”
Right. The form where he had horns and claws. “Can you control it?”
He seemed apprehensive. “No. But it only happens at night.”
“Then why tease you? Isn’t that just drawing more attention to him—tempting you?
“Perhaps. But the Eldritch is growing frustrated with all I’ve taken from him. The wolves I’ve killed. He thinks I’m trespassing. He’s warning me to stay away.” Rowan laughed.
“But you can kill him?”
He nodded.
“Then why haven’t you?”
Rowan scoffed. “Why should I?”
“You just told me he’s the reason for the forsaken!”
Rowan leaned over the table, leering. “And how does that affect me?”
Paeonia’s mouth opened and closed again. “Y-you can’t be serious. He’s killing innocent people. Children!” She sucked in a breath. “My father.”
Rowan narrowed at her final words. “You humans have done nothing but spit on fae’s existence, and you think I should spend my time stopping the Eldritch—which is no easy feat. That I should do humans a favor. Why should I save your pathetic human father?”
Paeonia flinched.
His chair creaked as he shifted in his seat. “Pae, it’s—” he breathed, his voice sharp.
“Please,” she mumbled, still not looking at him, “don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
She finally met his gaze again, an angry smile forming on her lips. “Why does it matter? It’s not like you care.”
“Who said I don’t care?”
She shook her head.
Rowan’s voice clipped with crossness. “Didn’t I already explain to you that I care for your safety? I’m not trying to hold you prisoner.”
Her faux smile fell. “But you don’t mean that. You’re just using me! You have no desire to know why I hate that nickname. Don’t act like you’re genuinely curious to figure out why I do”—she waved her hands around—“anything I do.”
Her words fell weakly from her lips as she spoke. She might be fueled with anger and pity, but she struggled to show it, to let it make a presence. Still, she seemed determined to force this out of her. That maybe if she spoke the words, she’d finally feel some peace and quiet.
“You don’t care to know that my betrothed called me that.” An uncontrollable shudder slid through her at the mention of being betrothed to Barth. The guilt that radiated in her marrow at betraying him. “That I hate that nickname so much, and that’s all he seemed to want to call me.”
Rowan listened stoically. “Is he why you don’t like to be touched?” Rowan asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied her.
“H-how…?”
“Castor may have let that slip.”
She nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
She admitted it. Finally let it out. “Yes. I hate it when he touches me.” Then, in a faint whisper, “And all he ever wants to do is fucking touch me.” Her eyes went wide at her foul language and admission, flashing to meet Rowan who didn’t seem to care one way or the other, both her hands coming to block her mouth.
Rowan rested his elbow on the table, biting at his fingernails as he thought. She sat quietly, letting her confession suffocate her like a blanket.
“That the first time you’ve sworn?”
She gritted her teeth, unnerved—that was what he picked up from her tantrum? Had it really sounded that unnatural coming from her mouth?
“Perhaps we can discuss more about the forsaken another day.”
She raised a brow. “Another day?”
He nodded. For whatever reason, Paeonia knew she wasn’t going to get more answers out of him, so she nodded back. Willing to accept his respite.
“As for my garden,” he began, “I’ll not make you do your rounds in this weather.”
Her hands twisted together. “What should I do instead?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps it’s time I gave you a proper tour of the castle.”
She hated how easily he slipped into another topic. Hated how she had just admitted something that almost stole her breath, her hidden feelings finally laid bare. And he didn’t care an ounce. He let her throw her tantrum, and he was already on the other side.
She nodded.