Evermore

Chapter 21 Paeonia #2

“I know you don’t want to be his mate, Nia. But there’s no point fighting it.”

Sybil almost looked defeated. Paeonia remembered how Sybil had discussed mates earlier, when she proclaimed how desperately she had wanted one. And now, apparently Paeonia has been given a mate, and she was throwing it away. Right in Sybil’s face.

She bit her lip and nodded. Sybil clapped her hands in delight.

This was dangerous. So very dangerous.

She worked over a bed of poppies, gently patting down the hardening soil after sprinkling fertilizer on them, meant to keep them alive for the winter months. Paeonia jumped when a deep voice startled her.

“Afternoon.”

She turned, resting on her knees, her dress dirty, and faced Castor. “You startled me.”

He gave her a brief smile. “Not hard to do.”

She climbed back to her feet, brushing off her skirts.

Castor’s demeanor shifted. “I never asked you how you were.”

As she looked at him, she realized she was unsure if their eyes would be meeting, his always shrouded by his helm. “I’m fine.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I meant, after losing yourself to the woods.” He gestured his head behind her.

She sucked in a breath. “Oh, that.” She bent over to collect her watering can, heading toward the fountain to refill it.

“Why aren’t you just using the enchanted one?”

Paeonia peered over her shoulder, halting. “The—what?”

Castor’s lips tightened. “There’s an enchanted watering can by the shed. Never loses its water.”

“Oh.” Paeonia looked down at the watering can in her hand. “I had taken this one because I liked the color.” The soft purple of the metal made her face turn red.

Castor let out a small laugh. “Rowan was right.”

“About what?” she asked, raising a brow.

Castor stared at her a moment, almost confused, before shaking his head in realization.

“Of course he didn’t show you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Rowan got you an enchanted one from the market the other day. Said he was sick of watching you walk back and forth to keep refilling it. And he insisted on a violet can even though they only sold plain ones. I said you wouldn’t care the color, but I seem to be wrong. ”

She stood speechless and bit her lip. “That was kind of him,” she mumbled, her cheeks warming. She glanced at the purple gloves that fit properly on her hands. Another gift from him after noticing her struggling.

“I’ll go fetch it for you.”

Paeonia was left to her thoughts again as Castor went to grab the enchanted watering can. She sat on the edge of the fountain, peering into the water, catching her blurry reflection on the surface, and sighed.

She let her hand fall, breaking the water’s surface, her reflection rippling in tiny waves. Perhaps she could take on the Eldritch herself. Perhaps she could fight it.

She laughed, genuinely and fully laughed, the thought ludicrous.

“What’s so funny?” Castor asked, standing before the fountain with a lavender watering can in his hands.

She let the laughter die on her lips, shaking her head, a tiny smile still plastered on her face.

She took the watering can, heavy and weighted with water. She examined it, wondering how it might function—how magic worked. And how much she loved the soft beauty of the color. Rowan had insisted on getting her one this shade? Her heart stuttered.

“How have you been, then?” he mustered.

Paeonia set the can on the fountain’s edge beside her. “I’m okay, really.”

Castor rubbed an armored hand on the back of his neck. “It was so odd, Peony. Like you were entranced, being dragged along by the flowers and mushrooms into the woods. Scared the daylights out of me.”

It was odd to hear him speak of her so fondly. Odd when his voice from earlier echoed in her mind. Perhaps I could sweeten her up. Get her to want me—us. Drag her hand in hand to your bed, both of us on our knees. Shame coursed through her.

“It…It’s not the first time.”

He tilted his head, leaning back against the fence. He spoke hesitantly, like he almost did not want clarification. “What do you mean?”

She bit her cheek. “I’ve always had a weird affinity to flowers.

To the woods.” She awkwardly removed one of her gardening gloves to push her hair behind her ear.

“It’s like they speak to me. They wave and say hello.

And I always thought it was in my head. Thought I was just a lonely, absent-minded girl.

But after that day in the woods, when I knew they led me there… ”

Castor made an odd sound in his throat. “My god,” he muttered.

She narrowed her eyebrows, waiting.

He shook his head. “But your ears are rounded.”

She gave him a lopsided grin.

“You’re fae. And you never even knew it, huh?”

“It appears that way,” she sighed.

Castor walked closer, his finger grabbing a tendril of her hair, examining her ear. “You’re a Gleam Fae. Gods, that makes so much sense now.”

“Did Rowan not tell you?”

“He likes to be difficult sometimes,” Castor said, but not with the malice his words implied.

“Peony, that’s why you can talk to the flora.

Why you’re so inclined to gardening. Gleam Fae have affinities to flora.

That’s their whole thing.” He waved his hands around.

“Rowan must have seen that—knew you’d be able to tend to the garden.

That’s how you’re Rowan’s—” He swallowed his words.

“Why I’m Rowan’s what?” He knew. Castor knew!

Castor shook his head.

Her breath lost its place in her chest. “You knew…You knew I was his mate.”

She wanted to lash out in anger, wanted to let Castor know how lonely, how hurt, she felt by everyone hiding things from her. But when her lips parted, a sob tumbled out before she could stop it. Tears didn’t fall, but her eyes stung, and the anger felt more like desperation.

Castor rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady her panic. “Why?”

Castor’s lips curled, and she wondered if it was the pure pain in her voice that made him cringe. “There’s much you don’t know. And most of it, you don’t want to know.”

Paeonia wiped her eyes. “You don’t know that.” She should be allowed to think for herself, to judge what was too much and too little.

But it’s not like she had shown anyone she was worth the truth—she had been a submissive, doting daughter her whole life, letting people decide all her ins and outs. Why would anyone start thinking differently about her now? Castor wasn’t to blame.

“Well, ask me something, then.”

Paeonia’s eyes fluttered. “Why didn’t Rowan tell me that the forsaken stirred from a bargain?”

He uncomfortably played with the armor on his leg. “You might not have made a bargain with him otherwise.”

“I’m so sick of these stupid bargains! What does that matter? Why couldn’t he just be forthright?”

“Peony,” Castor began, “Rowan needs you so he can break his curse.”

“He… What?”

Castor sighed. “The curse his brother cast upon him over a century ago. He needed his mate. And, if he had informed you that he could offer you nothing, you wouldn’t have made the bargain to stay here with him.”

Paeonia blinked several times as she digested his words. Her hand was unsteady as it rose to her forehead. “How am I… How do I break—?”

“Killing Rowan would have been merciful. No, his brother sought vengeance. Binding him to the ancestral garden of the Alder Court when everyone left. The garden blooms and withers with his breaths. And you”—Castor swallowed before continuing—“you can keep his garden alive. A Gleam Fae. Bound in divinity to the flora. You’re what’s keeping him alive, Peony. ”

She bit her lip. She never wanted that kind of responsibility. “But I’m not doing anything special,” she refuted.

“The garden has never flourished this much in decades. Rowan had been losing the flowers over time. The more he sank into darkness, the quicker they died off. He had tried gardeners, but they could only do so much to keep a magical garden alive when Rowan seemed to fight so hard to keep it otherwise. But you, you are more than just a gardener.”

“How does he break the curse?”

“That is a more complicated question.”

Paeonia hadn’t realized she was clutching her locket until Castor broke the awkward silence, gesturing his chin toward her necklace.

“Is that why you two went to the Night Market earlier?”

Paeonia fingered her charm another time before dropping her hand. “He told you?”

“Only that you were heading to the jewelers.”

She rested her right hand over her palm. “Rowan promised to help me open it.”

Castor sat beside her on the fountain’s edge. “And, what did the jeweler say?”

She sighed, sinking down further and resting against Castor’s shoulder. “That it’s a fae locket. Magic shared with the creator is needed to open it.”

“Ah,” Castor hummed, clearly recognizing this kind of jewelry. “Have you tried your own magic, then?”

Her lips pursed as if she had something sour in her mouth. “I…don’t know how to summon it.”

“Well, go on. It doesn’t hurt to try it. Just…do what you normally do when the flowers react to you.”

She had never really tried to summon her affinity before. It always just…happened.

She sat straight and held the locket in her palm, closing her eyes, and trying to think of all the times she had made flowers move on their own, or saw them wink at her.

All the times they led her astray, like when they guided her to Rowan’s castle, and then into the woods.

Always when she had been overfilled with emotions.

After several long seconds, she sighed. Nothing.

“Was worth the try,” Castor encouraged.

She shrugged her shoulders before scooping the watering can back into her hands and moving to the next bed of flowers.

Castor’s defeated voice at Paeonia being Rowan’s mate rang painfully in her mind.

She shouldn’t ask him—shouldn’t care—but the thought kept ricocheting around the confines of her heart and mind.

“Can I ask you an odd question?” Paeonia slid the ring Rowan gave to her off her finger and put it in her pocket, hating the way it sometimes suddenly felt so weighted.

Castor hummed behind her. “Did you ask it of Rowan yet?”

She froze, standing straight, but refusing to face Castor. “Well…no. But it isn’t about him as much as it is about you.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

He slid up beside her. “Curious about me, now?” He nudged her shoulder, and she wanted to laugh, but her anxiety prevented it.

“Are you and Rowan”—she couldn’t help but shy away as she spoke—“lovers?”

Silence brewed between the two of them.

“Or any of the other Stoneborne.”

“Sybil?” Castor asked.

Paeonia shifted on the balls of her feet. “Any of them.”

Castor smiled, opening his mouth to respond, and her heart plummeted.

A deep voice that wasn’t Castor’s slithered around her shoulders. “Why? Would that bother you?”

Paeonia spun to face Rowan, eyes alight with fire, his appearance feeling more domineering than usual.

“Of course not,” she breathed.

“Perhaps it excited you, then? Giddy at the idea of having all of us at once? I didn’t take sweet little Paeonia for the salacious type.”

She shook her head, her face ablaze. “No! I—”

She could sense Castor slipping away, moving further into the gardens to remove himself from this conversation. Her cheeks went hot at the idea of Castor thinking she might want him.

“Tell me, does that bother you?”

“No. I shouldn’t have even asked. I was just curious—” Her mouth went dry.

“The fact that I’m marrying you, but have desires for another—for Castor, for Sybil, for Olivander, for the other Stoneborne you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet—does not bring envy to your chest?”

She squeezed her lips together, avoiding his eyes.

“Knowing I’ve kept them all here, unable to let them go, doesn’t enrage you? Make you wish you could have me all to yourself?”

She turned to leave, and Rowan grabbed her arm, spinning her around, pushing her back against the garden’s fence.

“Let me go!”

“Interesting,” he purred.

Her hand tightened on the watering can. “What is?”

“How feisty you become when you’re jealous. Yelling at me to unhand you.”

Her chest beat rapidly in response, and she worried he might hear just how much his proximity affected her.

“Would you like that?” he asked more quietly.

“To have more than just me? To have Castor trail kisses across your exposed neck while my head is between your thighs? Perhaps I could have you bent over while you focus on Castor’s pleasure.

Do you wish to know if someone made of stone can feel the intricacies of lust? ”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, her face aflame. She didn’t want that, but she couldn’t help the breathlessness from his heady words. “No,” she whispered, but her breathy voice said otherwise.

Rowan growled, like an animal might warn another predator to stay back. “Sybil could come too. Perhaps you wish to watch us together—watch her expertly—”

“No!” she shouted, her eyes flashing open.

He didn’t move away, but his hands slid from her body. She sucked in harsh breaths of air. His voice dropped his wanton lilt, back to his stoic demeanor. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve never been with any of the Stoneborne here. Not now. Not in the past. They linger in these halls for other reasons.”

She hated the relief that swelled behind her breasts. “Then why were you telling me—?”

“I wanted to see how it’d play out.”

“You wanted to see if I’d get jealous?” she asked in disbelief.

He let a breath out through his nose. “No.” His eyes darkened. “I wanted to see if I’d get jealous.” Rowan clenched his jaw in anger. “It’s not the same thing.”

“But, I heard Castor saying”—she swallowed harshly—“how he would drag me to you. Both of us on our knees.”

“Yes, his mocking plan for me to woo you. If you haven’t noticed, Castor can be quite a boisterous pain.”

She slowly moved her hand, her fingers lacing with his shirt—a bold movement. Rowan glanced down then back to her face. “You’re jealous?” she asked again.

His jaw tensed, but his eyes seemed to soften slightly. “Yes.”

“Is it more than lust you feel towards me?”

He stood straight, removing her hand from his shirt, holding it a beat too long, before releasing her. Then he turned and left.