Chapter 30
?ROWAN
“Bond’s End,” Rowan repeated for the seventh time under his breath.
He stood in his study, Paeonia’s locket laced in hand, the chain spilling through his fingers.
“Bond’s End.” That’s what the sorcerer had said. But after his meeting with Felix, he began to think he didn’t mean the sword, but rather, the ending of a real bond.
Tricky fucking sorcerers.
Perhaps this was good, because Rowan couldn’t track down that dagger even if he wanted to.
Bonds, on the other hand, Rowan had access to. And he just so happened to have made one a fortnight ago.
A tether to another. Beyond just the sanctity of a bargain, but a deeper-level bond that united the two who made the vow.
He stared at the golden locket, intricate engravings swirling the oval-shaped metal.
The locket had been there when their blood mingled.
And it was no trinket, but a fae relic. Which meant whatever magical bond Rowan and Paeonia summoned lived and breathed inside. It became a thread tying them together.
End the bond, sever his ties, and the sorcerer would ensure his gardens lived beyond that of the girl. So when he broke the curse, even if Paeonia died, the garden would live and so would Rowan.
If he traded the necklace for the sorcerer’s help—would he be free? Could the ending of a sacred bond be enough to break his curse all together?
Or worse, would it sever something he didn’t know how to live without?
His hand suffocated the necklace, the metal of it warm against his skin.
He only had a few more days before the first day of winter.
He had never been the one to break a bargain before.
Though, he imagined maybe he’d be better off if he had, thinking back to that night over a hundred years ago when he killed Georgia.
What would have happened if he hadn’t done it?
Loud, clunky footsteps entered his study, and Rowan was quick to slip the locket into his pocket.
“What do you want?” Rowan barked.
Castor leaned against the doorframe and gestured his chin forward. “What have you got there?”
Rowan gritted his teeth, hard enough that he might have a headache later. “I found it. Bond’s end.”
Castor straightened, edging further into the room. “This is what you wanted. So why do you sound so glum?”
The silence in his study, the lack of the ticking grandfather clock, made Rowan’s blood roil. “I didn’t mean the dagger,” he managed through clenched teeth.
“What do you mean?”
Rowan took his hand from his pocket, holding Paeonia’s locket for the Stoneborne to see. The gilded metal reflected the flickering candlelight.
Rowan let him brew with it a moment before Castor let out a loud breath. “Shit. You mean to end a bond… You think your bond with Peony latched to her locket, then?”
“It had to. It’s a fae relic. It can’t help but cling to the magic of the owner.” He rubbed his neck, then Rowan tucked the trinket back away with an angry grunt. “This is good. If I sever the bond, I can be free of this curse.”
Castor laughed. “It won’t end the bloody curse,” Castor began.
“All it will do is exactly what you’re trading it for: protecting your gardens.
But now that you’ve bonded with the girl, who knows what will happen if you break it.
She’s tied with you. Her emotions, if you haven’t noticed, affect the garden the same as yours. Cut the tie, and what’s left?
“You’ve been rotting faster with each day.
You’re a husk of who you once used to be.
You’re cruel and angry. And this sorcerer said, what, exactly?
Hm? That he can keep your emotions stilted?
If you sever this bond with her, your last emotion will be that of pain.
Terrible, heart-wrenching pain. To perform a blood bond with your mate and then tear it to shreds?
” He mirthlessly laughed. “And that’s how you wish to spend eternity?
Instead of just learning to care for someone other than yourself, you’d rather be frozen in a constant state of horror. ”
“You know exactly what Laurus plans to do once I break this curse.”
Castor scoffed.
“He never meant to righteously teach me a lesson. To get me to bend and mold into a pious male. To be worthy of love from my mate. You know better than to expect Laurus’ revenge to end there.
“And then, if he does what he plans, if Paeonia gets hurt, do you think my gardens will survive that? I should survive, but my instincts will make sure that I won’t.
I never wanted to fall for her. But—” His voice trickled away, unable to admit it.
“I’m a goner either way. If I can get my gardens safeguarded, it won’t matter what Laurus does—”
“You selfish bastard,” Castor cut in. “You don’t care what becomes of Paeonia? You are just going to let her get burned?”
Rowan glared at Castor, his claws threatening to make an appearance.
“Bloody pathetic. You really are.” His words dripped with a level of disdain Rowan had never heard in his friend’s voice before. He turned to leave but hesitated at the threshold. “You think her weak, but we both know she’s not the pitiful one.”
A scowl graced Rowan’s face, his heart lurching.
This was madness. It was this mate nonsense that was infiltrating his senses, making it hard to think or see. Hard to accept Paeonia’s fate. He knew it was a guise, the mating bond placed over his emotions. And once that tie inevitably broke too, he’d be free.
He knew this.
And yet, his hands shook with unrestrained anger; not with Laurus, but with himself for even entertaining the idea of putting his mate in harm’s way.
He spun and shoved his thick oakwood desk over, the stack of books, ledgers, and quills spiraling and shuttering against the floorboards.
Rowan entered the gardens, the locket warm in his pocket. He had to give it to Veran, to complete their bargain. The locket in exchange for his garden’s well-being.
If anything was to happen to Paeonia, with her being tethered to him—mated to him—it would kill him. He had to get the sorcerer to stilt his feelings. To keep his garden locked in time.
The closer he got to the gate, to head to the Night Market, the deeper the pull got. The more he contemplated everything all together.
Why should he keep his gardens alive? Why was his will to live so strong? What would he do with his allotted time? Perhaps he had only wanted to see the horror on his brother’s face when he came back after Rowan severed the curse, to show him it hadn’t affected him. That Laurus’ plan hadn’t worked.
But now, his connection to Paeonia became an unforeseen problem. What would be the point in living if she was no longer around?
He caught himself against one of the trees, keeping himself upright, his heart tugging.
The realization that he cared for Paeonia beyond that of the mating or blood bond struck him deep in his core.
Threatened to drown him. He growled as the sun went down and his wyld glamour set in.
This was not how any of this was supposed to happen.
He stared out into the forest, into the shifting darkness, and his hand twitched.
He wanted to walk through the copse. To find Veran.
To give him Paeonia’s locket in exchange for stilting his feelings.
To keep his garden alive so when Paeonia inevitably broke his curse, when Laurus would return to punish him, he’d live.
But that was all before he grew to care for her. Before he grew suffocated by her. His darkness was shrouded by her light—she gilded it in a beautiful glow. That was why his garden didn’t wither. Why it stood so much stronger than before. It was because of her.
“Fuck,” he cursed before turning around and entering back into his castle.