Chapter 21 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
The thought of marrying Rowan, of taking the hand of that beast, made Paeonia ebb with anger.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he cursed her name, calling her “Pae” and “witchling.” The way he damned her by forcing her to stay here, using her because he thought she could somehow replace his mate.
Her fingernails dug divots into her palm, furious, a feeling she had so rarely expressed before. She never thought she could hate, but now she knew she could. Because she hated Rowan.
She stormed back and forth in her room, muttering under her breath. “He just thinks he can keep me here?”
Sybil had entered her room at some point during her madness, now perched on her mattress, watching Paeonia wither.
“That’s why he got me to marry him.” Her hands flung up before slapping back against her thighs. “Stars! He’s going to ruin me! He’s not going to let me go back to my father!” Paeonia’s pleading eyes met Sybil’s.
The fae female bit at her fingers, her brow furrowed, and Paeonia couldn’t tell if jealousy or pity flashed in her features. “You don’t know that,” she tried to placate.
“Of course I do! Why would he let me go? That…beast,” she cursed, “is so intrinsic, so animalistic, he’s going to keep me prisoner. Going to force me to marry him! I don’t know why he can’t just let his gardens die along with his mate.”
Paeonia looked helplessly at Sybil, finally relaxing slightly, feeling almost bad for saying something about a person who she had never met. How much it must hurt him to have lost someone. “Why does he need me to replace his mate so badly?”
Sybil’s eyes darted around the room, obviously uncomfortable. “Nia,” she breathed. “You’re not… He…” Sybil shook her head. “You think he needs you to replace his mate?”
Paeonia nodded hesitantly. “To keep his gardens from dying with her.”
Sybil let out a mirthless laugh. “No, Nia. He didn’t lose a mate… It’s not that he needs you to replace what once was there.”
Paeonia came to sit beside Sybil, her heart racing at the idea that Sybil and Rowan might be intimate behind closed doors.
“Then why? Why is he so set on this? Why is he putting me through this? Lying to me?”
Sybil’s face was laced with sorrow. Paeonia worried that whatever was to come out of her mouth might take her breath away. “You’re his mate.”
Paeonia blinked rapidly several times, standing and catching her breath. She backed away slowly. “He thinks…?”
“Rowan had never lost a mate. Never had one. Well, not before you.”
Paeonia’s mouth opened then closed. She swallowed hard. “But, I’m human.”
“It’s rare–but not unheard of—for someone of washed fae blood, or no fae blood at all, to be a fae’s mate.”
“And that’s why he won’t let me go?” Her jaw tensed.
“Once a fae male gets scent of who his mate is—which, mind you, is a rather rare occurrence—it’s hard to just abandon that.
” Sybil reached for Paeonia’s hand. “Just think about how many people exist in this realm. The chances of stumbling upon your mate are so slim…so low, that when you find your mate, it’s hard to just let them go, even if they don’t want you. ”
Her breathing grew weary, but the tiny voice in her mind telling her to stop thinking so selfishly won. Made her calm slightly.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Nia. He feels this pull toward you.
” She searched for the right words. “A magnetism toward you. When he gets too far away from you, his heart hurts—makes it feel like he’s dying.
And just the idea of you with someone else, even in your past, with Barth”—Sybil cringed at her use of Barth’s name—“will drive him mad. Fae aren’t always rational beings when their mate is involved. ”
Paeonia pursed her lips, turning her head to gaze out the window.
“Do you not feel it too?” Sybil whispered.
Paeonia thought for a moment, then turned back to Sybil and shook her head.
Sybil’s lips tilted. “You don’t hurt when he leaves your presence?”
Paeonia began to fiddle with her fingers, remaining quiet. Her mind wandered to all the times Rowan had left the castle, and how she had felt off those few days. The headache she got. The anxiety that riddled her.
“You do!” Sybil exclaimed, a bit astonished. “You feel it—”
“I don’t know what I feel!”
Sybil grabbed her hands. “Perhaps you can save him and still get your happily-ever-after.”
Sybil’s body seemed so delicate; such intricate beauty even when made of such harsh stone.
“What do you mean?”
Sybil bit her lip. “Just give him a chance.”
“A chance? You truly want me to give him a chance? What does that even entail?” Paeonia’s voice no longer rang with anger, but instead, it fell deflated. Her voice cracked. “All I want is to save my father, Sybil.”
Her friend gave her a sympathetic look. “Then tough it out. Stay with Rowan until he lets you free. He’ll keep to his promise. And then you can save your father.”
Paeonia shook her head. “You make it sound so easy. Like he won’t somehow force me to stay here once my time is up.”
“He won’t.”
Paeonia went to laugh, but Sybil grew serious. “How do you know that?” Paeonia summoned a breath. “Is it because he wants you?”
Sybil blinked blankly a few times. “Me?”
Paeonia’s face went hot. “He’ll let me go because he has you at the end of the day, even if you’re not mates.”
Sybil shook her head, laughing. “No. What on earth gave you that idea? It’s because he won’t hurt you. If he keeps you here, miserable and hateful, that will hurt even more than being away from you.”
So it all came back to how Rowan felt. If he was in pain, he’d let her go. It had nothing to do with wanting to preserve her sanity. Always about the men and how they perceived the world; it didn’t matter the women they trampled in the process.
She nodded, turning to roam her room aimlessly.
She’d tend to his garden. She’d marry him.
Then she’d leave once the time was up, after figuring out some flora to bring back to her father, even if it was futile.
To save him. To save her father. This is why she was doing this.
She’d beg Rowan on her hands and knees to help get rid of the forsaken if it meant saving the most important person in her life.
“Have you managed to ask him?” Sybil asked after several quiet beats.
Paeonia gave her a blank look of confusion.
“Rowan. Did you ask him at all about the bargain with the forsaken?”
Paeonia bit her lip. “Sort of.”
Sybil shifted her position on Paeonia’s bed.
“He didn’t really give me an answer. But I know who might be able to help with that.”
Sybil grinned. She fell back on her bed, her hair stiff instead of sprawling out against Paeonia’s duvet.
Paeonia glanced at the white dress she had pulled from her wardrobe. The dress she thought she might wear when she married Rowan.
“Can I ask you a question?” Paeonia began quietly.
Sybil kicked her feet back and forth, her eyes shut. “Mhm.”
“Earlier. The other day, when you were talking about how little men understand women. I…” She fiddled with her fingers. “Is it truly possible for a woman to feel pleasure when lying with a man?” Paeonia knew her face was bright red.
Sybil cracked one eye open and tilted her head to look at Paeonia. “Of course. It’s quite irritating, but a male’s touch can be the most enthralling thing.”
Paeonia sank against her dresser. “So you’ve desired them? Wanted their kisses and touches?”
Sybil laughed softly. “Why, yes.” Sybil traced Paeonia’s features, and she saw the moment it dawned on the Stoneborne why Paeonia asked. “Was Barth the only man you’ve ever been touched by?”
Paeonia averted her gaze before nodding.
Sybil rolled to her side, using her hand to hold her head. “Barth was not the man for you, Nia. When you truly care for a man, his touch can do wonders. You will crave his touch. Desire to kiss him. Want him so badly it hurts.”
Paeonia’s chest sank. She wasn’t convinced she’d ever feel that for someone. “I usually hate when others touch me.”
“Well, that’s okay too. You don’t need to have anyone’s hands on you.”
“But I want to,” she said rather loudly, surprising herself. “I just mean, I want to desire someone. I want to…”
Sybil grimaced. “Barth’s touch repulsed you.”
Paeonia nodded, a spark of guilt pooling in her gut.
“How about Rowan’s?”
“Rowan’s?” Paeonia sputtered.
Sybil grinned. “Yes, Nia. Do you feel as repulsed by Rowan’s touch?”
Paeonia wrung her hands together. As angry as she was—as hurt as she felt—she couldn’t lie. Paeonia shook her head.
Sybil hummed in acknowledgement. “Interesting.”
“I fear for my nuptials.” Silence crackled through the room in sizzling sparks. Embarrassment heated her cheeks.
“He won’t force himself on you.”
“So he claims.” Paeonia bit at her fingernail.
“Do you find him attractive?” Sybil sat upward.
She remained silent, and Sybil grinned.
“You should ask him.”
Face aflame, Paeonia asked, “Ask him what, exactly?”
“To show you how much pleasure a woman can feel from a male’s touch.”
Paeonia began to shake her head, but Sybil stopped her.
“You say you’ve never wanted a man to touch you.
And that is fine, but if you have ever felt comfort in Rowan’s hold.
If you’ve ever thought about him—desired him—beyond what you had before, there is no harm in asking him.
I’m sure he’d do it too, if he is your mate.
He would be crazy to say no.” Sybil laughed.
“I don’t think he physically could say no.
” Sybil seemed to read the worry across Paeonia’s features. “Wait until you’re wed. No shame then.”
The way she heard Castor ask to pleasure Rowan earlier made sense now. It seemed the Stoneborne were fine with sharing Rowan. Paeonia gazed at the ceiling, sucking in unsteady breaths. She hated how even discussing this riddled her with abhorrent nerves. “What if I don’t like it?”
Sybil gestured her hand in a flippant motion. “Then tell him to stop.”
Paeonia bent with worry.