Chapter 19 Paeonia #2
“I can sense it. I can sense a lot of things in these woods. The trees guide me. Humans have no such prowess. They move blindly and stupidly. No one would think much of an old watchtower anyway.”
She nodded. “How do they guide you?
He sighed. “I can see through them. Grim Fae have a sort of”—a beat of silence—“affliction. We’re bound to nature. It allows us to control the trees. To coexist in a way that draws out their strength for our benefit. But as a result, we are a picture of the environment around us.”
She hummed. “Your garden.”
“I am tethered to it. Though, it’s not usually so specific. It’s more of a generalization. A broader punishment. My connection to the garden is…”
She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “Retribution,” she offered.
He glanced at her, his eyes soft, dancing between her own before shifting back to the forest. “Yes.”
“What are you being punished for?”
The air grew tight, Rowan’s back tense. “For the pain I’ve inflicted.” His words were terse, like he struggled to get them out.
“And I help ease the suffering?” she asked him in a whisper. She tended to his garden, kept it flourishing. She was sure he hadn’t heard her, the winter wind too strong, so she bit her lip when he spoke again.
“You ease the suffering. And amplify it all the same.”
They moved the rest of the way in silence, only to be broken by the clamor of the Night Market. It was livelier than she remembered, the air thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, spiced meats, and cold ale. Her stomach growled in response.
The crowd swelled like fog, pressing in from every side. She stayed close to Rowan, reaching out to grasp his cloak so she wouldn’t lose him.
He halted outside the same peculiar tavern as last time—the one across from the brothel—then glanced at her. His eyes flicked to where her fingers clung to his cloak. “I’ve business inside,” he said quietly, tilting his head. “Come.”
She grimaced. “Could I wait out here?”
His brow raised slightly, staring at her like she was a riddle he couldn’t unfold.
She nodded toward the food stall behind him, where steam curled off sizzling meat. A small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips. Rowan closed his eyes for a breath, and for a moment, she braced for a refusal.
Instead, he reached for her hand and pressed a gold coin into her palm.
“I’ll be quick,” he said, already turning away. “Don’t wander into any seedy brothels.”
He was already inside when she let a small laugh escape. She didn’t know Rowan could make jokes.
She made her way to the cart ordering a skewer of cured meats.
Paeonia smiled at the intoxicating smell before taking a bite.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelt the sweet and savory scents around her.
She hummed to herself, walking back over to the tavern Rowan had entered, when someone bumped into her.
She wiped her mouth, her lips parting to apologize, but all that came out was a squeak.
The man was handsome, tall, and rather humanlike. So humanlike that Paeonia looked at his ears for confirmation. Round.
“It’s quite all right,” he told her. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
She gave him a bashful smile.
“Are you alone?” he asked, glancing at the bustle moving behind her. “It’s not safe here. Do you have someone I can escort you back to?”
She shook her head. “I mean, yes, I am here with someone. He just stepped inside.” She pointed with her free hand to the tavern.
“Would you like me to wait with you?” He gestured for her to step back against the wall, goblins stumbling past.
She gasped, hurrying to squeeze beside him. “I don’t want to bother you. I’ll be fine on my own—”
“It’s really no bother at all…” He waited expectantly.
“Paeonia.”
“Paeonia,” he repeated, and she tried to restrain the grin. “I’m Kelby.”
She gave him a polite nod, feeling too awkward to take a bite of her snack.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he added, peering above her head as if to make sure no one else was going to bump into her.
“I, uhm, don’t come here often.” She cringed, her wording all wrong.
Kelby laughed, raising his hand. “Apologies. I’m not laughing at you.” He adjusted his coat. “You just seem”—he paused—“out of place.”
She didn’t detect any malice in his words, her anxiety loosening slightly, and she gave him a tiny grin. “I feel out of place.”
He leaned back against the cobbled wall. “Anything I can help you with?”
“You frequent the Night Market, then?”
He glanced at the meat in her hand, and his smile grew. “Sure. I come to trade, mostly. Herbs and healing potions.”
Paeonia perked up. “Oh!”
His eyes connected with hers at her sudden enthusiasm, raising an eyebrow in question.
“It’s just…my father’s sick.”
“Ah.” He studied the bustling crowd, contemplating something. “What is he sick with? Perhaps I could help.”
Her free hand tugged at the stringy bits of meat, pulling it off the skewer. “The forsaken.”
He turned in her periphery, facing her fully. She trailed her vision up his chest, noticing a soft glow around his irises.
“You know about it?” she asked.
He sighed. “Unfortunately. Most humans around here do.” He shook his head. “Afraid you won’t find much of use in these parts. Herbalist guilds have already tried every healing herb or flower there is. Nothing can stop the force of the wilting woods. It’s not something tangible that rots them.”
Her lips turned into a frown, her hands sinking lower. Her heart raced with confirmation.
“Perhaps,” he began, but trailed off.
She bent her eyebrows with rapt interest. He must have found some sympathy for her because he kept talking.
“The only place I’d think to check is with the Alder Court. They know these woods better than any other living being. ‘Course, you’d have to find them, that is.”
“Alder Court,” she repeated absentmindedly, her mind buzzing with Sybil’s mention of them earlier, though Kelby took it as a question and gave her a curious expression.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
She knew he didn’t mean location-wise. She bit her lip.
“Who are you here with, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”
What was she to say? A giant beastly fae who locked me into a bargain, wishing me to do his bidding, and now has trapped me into a marriage arrangement? This didn’t seem like the proper time or place to speak truthfully—at least in such a detailed manner.
“I have a friend,” she began, her eyes avoiding Kelby. “He’s taking me to the jeweler.” Her free hand instinctively reached for her locket.
His eyes glanced at the golden jewelry around her neck. “Ah.” He outstretched a hand. “May I?”
Her face certainly turned red. She nodded.
His fingers gently took the locket in his palm, examining it, the key jangling to the side. He turned it over in his hand. “It’s beautiful.” His eyes met hers. “How did you acquire a locket forged by the fae?” He suspiciously glanced at her ears, assuming she wasn’t of fae descent.
She almost dropped the meat in her hand. “Forged by the fae?” she stuttered.
“Do not touch her.”
Paeonia spun to face Rowan, forcing Kelby to drop his hand. The fae looked far past angry as he absorbed the two humans’ interaction.
“Rowan,” she said softly. “He was only waiting with me so no one—”
“And she’s done waiting.” Rowan glared at Kelby, his eyes trailing to his hand he just had around her locket.
She prayed he didn’t pick a fight. The man smiled at Paeonia, not paying any mind to Rowan. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Paeonia. Rowan.”
Paeonia smiled back, and he gave her one last look before departing. The way Kelby said Rowan’s name implied a sense of familiarity. And that unsettled her.
“Rowan,” she cursed.
“Why would you let that male all over you like that? Do you not remember the last time?” he snarled, like he aimed to hurt her.
Her cheeks went aflame. She took another bite of her skewered meat in defeat. She didn’t care about that man. Wasn’t interested, simply bashful from his kindness—and interested in what he had to say about her mother’s locket.
“He was just being nice,” she said faintly. She couldn’t even speak the foolish words with pride.
Rowan laughed.
Paeonia pursed her lips. “What?”
“This is your problem,” he said firmly, not bothering to look down at her as they walked. “You are too easy. Too compliant. It’s why men take advantage of you.”
Paeonia’s lips parted in shock.
“You think him kind? He’s a wanted man, Pae. A criminal with an unseemly history.” He slid his hands into his pocket. “S’killed people.” Rowan glanced at her. “Women.”
Paeonia swallowed roughly. “You’re just trying to scare me.”
Rowan stopped walking abruptly. He eyed her, his gaze menacing. “You will know when I’m trying to scare you, Pae. And this”—he leaned in closer—“is not it.”
She sucked in her breath in an attempt to steady herself.
Rowan grumbled. “Gods. You don’t make this easy.”
She had a mind to question what he meant, but she was worried her voice would waver if she spoke.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the jeweler.
She held her ground. “W-why does it bother you so much? That I talked to another man.”
He could easily have tugged her along, but he let her mold her feet to the floor. He looked over his shoulder. “That is not why I’m angry.”
Something about that embarrassed her. Made her feel shame and guilt.
They stared at one another for a moment longer, and she finally moved to follow beside him. She pouted, finishing her meal as Rowan led her to the next stop.
They descended several staircases, down to a level much sparser. It was prettier down here, a golden fountain in the center of the room. No creatures fighting, no brothel, not even food carts.
“This is the Midas Enclave.”
“It’s so pretty,” she hummed. Everything seemed gilded in gold.