Chapter 20 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
Paeonia traced Rowan’s stilted walk. He kept his distance, shoulders rigid, hands shoved deep into his pockets as if afraid her touch might burn him.
Earlier, in the crush of the Night Market, he’d let her cling to him out of necessity, a tether in the chaos.
But now, he moved like he couldn’t shed her fast enough.
She stumbled after him, yelping when a horned beast cut across her path, its massive frame forcing her to duck and weave between strangers.
Her pulse jumped, a rabbit in the thicket, and she scurried to catch up before the crowd could swallow her.
They slipped through the ruined arch of a dilapidated watchtower, the noise of the market muffled behind them.
She released a sharp breath, but he didn’t slow—if anything, he quickened his stride, storming ahead as if he could outrun her entirely.
She’d meant to press him about the locket, but he offered no pause, no opening for words.
She cursed him under her breath. His moods were unpredictable, yes, but this was sharper, more deliberate. She parted her lips to demand an answer, only for a thought to coil, unbidden, in the back of her mind.
Back at the market, when she’d pressed against him, her cloak slipping into his—he’d inhaled.
Not in revulsion, as she’d half expected, but sharply, like the act hurt.
His eyes had shuddered for a heartbeat, and the tension in him had changed.
Not the brittle edge of anger, but something heavier.
Controlled. Contained. As though her scent had struck him in some intimate place he didn’t dare show her.
What if it wasn’t just Rowan’s presence that kept the garden breathing?
Sybil’s voice came back to her in fragments; something about the bonds fae shared in place of marriage, something sacred and lasting.
Bonds that could tie one life to another so completely that when one withered, the other felt the decay.
What if Rowan had once been bound like that?
Bound to someone he had chosen, someone the garden had bloomed for.
And what if that someone was gone, dead or lost to him in a way that left the soil starving and the petals curling in grief?
The thought lodged like a thorn. Her own gift, her affinity for flowers, could be the very reason he’d brought her here, why he tolerated her at all.
Not because he wanted her, not because he needed her as her, but because she could stand in the place of the one he’d lost. A living, breathing way to keep his precious garden from dying completely.
And she had already been bonded by blood to him.
The feeling made her heart sink. How foolish she had been to put any semblance of trust in this brooding fae.
She jogged to keep pace, not trusting the darkening woods at her back, the memory of the Eldritch still lurking at the edges of her thoughts.
They moved in silence, the garden walls rising like shadows ahead.
When they reached the gates, she thought he might speak, might offer even a single word, but he didn’t break stride, didn’t look at her, didn’t pause as the iron doors swung wide.
“Why didn’t you tell him you think I might be fae-touched?”
Silence.
“Why keep it a secret? Is it bad that I might be—”
He peered over his shoulder. “Gleam Fae are not respected in these parts. You’d do well to keep that bit of information within the castle walls.”
She continued to follow him inside. The hurt and betrayal she had no business feeling made her lips part. “I want to leave,” she said.
He ignored her.
She lengthened her steps until she was beside him, voice sharpening, eyes hardening. “I said, I want to leave!”
He halted in his tracks and spun to face her, his lip curling. “That’s too bad. You’ve made your bed; now you have to lie in it.” His words came out venomous, and Paeonia winced.
“This bargain is no longer fair.”
He raised an eyebrow, threatening her to continue.
She gulped. “Y-you lied. You’ve done this all under false pretenses.”
He scoffed. “And? Who says I can’t do that?”
“That’s not fair!”
“Who said it had to be fair?” he growled.
Paeonia finally shied away, her courage lost. “You’re not going to hold up your end of the deal,” she said, speaking to the ground. “You’ve been lying this entire time. There is no herbal cure for my father. Nothing in your stupid gardens. The forsaken knows no healer’s antidote.”
“Tell me, how does that pertain to me lying? I never said I was certain. Never told you that you had to accept this deal. Do not blame me for your foolish mistakes.”
“You lying to me does not make me the foolish one.”
“No? Then what does it make you?”
Tears began to create a maelstrom behind her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that the forsaken stirred from a bargain? You knew there was nothing in your gardens that might cure my father.”
His lip twitched. “And what good would that have done? None of that benefits me.”
She gritted her teeth. Terribly selfish beast. “I want to go back home!”
“You want to go back? For me to release you from my grasp, to untether you from our betrothal?”
She nodded timidly, peeking at him through her eyelashes. “I don’t want to be used by you anymore.”
Rowan gave her a predatory grin, his chest expanding under his cloak.
“Tell me, little flower, if I gave you back what I stole, would you make use of it? Or would you do what you’ve always done: pretend you have control over your pathetic life, nodding and succumbing to everyone else’s whim.
Should I grant you any sympathy for your tiresome circle?
You would let that man drag your hand back into the very betrothal that led you to my gardens in the first place. ”
Paeonia’s lips parted in a silent gasp.
He shook his head. “And here you cry, upset at the truth. And you’re sure to blame me, oh, how cruel is the beast that keeps you prisoner! When all along, if you had rejected me in those gardens, I would have let you free. And trust me, Paeonia, your life would be no better for it.”
That hit something deep within her. “You’re a dirty liar!”
“Ah,” he exclaimed, like something in her words struck him. “You think I would not have let you go?”
She shook her head. “I know you wouldn’t have. You need me.”
He grew angry, his snarl sharpening, taking a step closer to her so she backed into the staircase. “You think you’re truly of that much use to me that I can not replace you?”
She swallowed, trying to stand taller, but Rowan loomed so heavily over her that the weight of it shrunk her.
“You’re using me to take the place of your mate,” she almost whispered, afraid to voice those thoughts. It would explain his desire to keep her here, no matter how tiresome her company was. “You’re using me in ways I would never agree to if I knew the truth.”
He glared in silence, his muscles twitching subtly, his eyes widening in shock, but only briefly.
She continued, her voice quiet. “You hate how much you need me—a human girl, even if not fully. And you’re going to end up killing me if you keep taking it all from me. I’ll never truly replace what you lost, Rowan.” Tears flowed freely, splitting a trail along her cheeks.
He grabbed her chin, his nails digging into her skin, a tiny mewl of distress slipping past her lips. The fear that had always settled when he was around grew stronger, hitting her like a wave against the shore.
“We shall see about that, witchling.”
Her lips tipped downward at the foul name.
“You think it’s only me who suffers? Do you never wonder why flora seem so keen toward you?
Why they opened and guided you into my gardens?
Why you seem so inclined to make a plant grow just by watering it?
For fuck’s sake, Pae, your mother’s locket was made by the Gleam Fae, do you not think that odd? ”
“S-so, I have Gleam Fae lineage.” The thought made her heart skip. “You can’t just use me because of that to keep your stupid gardens alive!” She gave him a puzzled look, and he closed his eyes briefly to compose himself.
“Oh, Pae. No. Things are much worse than that.”
She bit her lip, trying to shake her head free, but he held tighter.
“Your heart beats erratically when I’m near.
” His finger slid to her pulse, gently resting it on her neck to prove his point.
“You look at me and despise what you see, but you loathe it even more when I leave the room, don’t you?
Have you never wondered why your mind seems so at war with your body? ”
“What… What are you saying?”
His fingers rolled against her skin like he wanted to choke her—to hurt her. But instead, he appraised her face, a sense of disgust and lust laced within, before dropping his hand.
“You’re not a fool,” he grunted before walking away, leaving her to blink absentmindedly.