Chapter 32 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
“Ican walk, you know,” Paeonia said quietly.
He mumbled something before placing her back onto her feet, and she quickly righted herself. She traced his features, and her heart lodged in her throat at his handsomeness. The way his fingers felt holding her.
She held his gaze for a moment longer before walking in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” he asked, trailing her.
“I was going to read in the observatory until nightfall.”
His footsteps echoed in the hall behind her, and she bit her lip to suppress her smile. Maybe all he had needed was someone to truly care for him. Maybe he wanted her to marry him because he had feared losing her.
The idea was preposterous, but it still buried itself inside her heart anyway.
The sun began to set as she entered the observatory, rain clicking against the glass windows. Rowan hovered in the doorway, watching her. She could feel his eyes as they burned against her skin.
She picked up the book she left on the table and fluttered it open, curling her legs beneath her as she sat. But she couldn’t focus on the words before her. She could only think of her father. Of Barth’s words.
“What is it?”
She glanced at Rowan who hovered behind her, and she tilted her book so he could read the cover.
He shook his head. “No. What is eating at your mind?”
She clutched the book’s leather harder. “My father…”
He crept around the bend of the sofa and stood across from her, never sitting.
“I think Barth was telling the truth.”
Rowan scoffed. “He was just trying to get a rouse out of you, Pae. He was mad. Angry. He wanted to hurt you.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think Barth would say that just to hurt me. My father’s illness was rapidly worsening before I left. I—”
“Enough. He solely said those words to spite you.”
“But what if he didn’t!” Her nose scrunched, and anger began to simmer where hopelessness had just made purchase. “Why did you have him down there?”
He cracked a grin as if he had been waiting for her to ask this. “Our bargain, little flower.”
Her breath caught. “I don’t believe you.”
His eyes darkened. “You didn’t want to marry him. Now you don’t have to.”
“Are you just going to keep him down there? Until he, what? Dies?”
“Would you rather me free him back into the world?” He gave her a curious look.
“You speak of him like he’s some wild animal!”
“He is.” Rowan took a step toward her, shadows seeming to fill the space around him, his eyebrows narrowing, the sarcastic look gone. “He assaulted you. You expect me to have just let him roam free after learning that?” He leaned over her. “You think I should have just let that go?”
“What you just did,” she breathed, her eyes stinging. “You are no better than him.”
A sense of darkness filled the room, Rowan’s pupils turning to pinpoints. He approached her, and Paeonia had to use everything inside her to not wince.
“You compare me to him?” he growled. “What I just did—” He lost his words, pure fire leaking from between his lips, flaming behind his eyes. “You came all over my tongue, Paeonia.” He spoke his words almost with disgust. “Have you ever found pleasure in any of Barth’s touches?”
She blinked back the fear of speaking truthfully. She shook her head.
“Ever pull Barth closer to you? Ever beg him not to stop?”
She swallowed painfully hard, her hands gripping her book forcibly, a flush racing to her cheeks. “None of that matters, Rowan.”
He almost seemed affronted. He examined her, his gaze softening. “Maybe I am like him. Maybe I’m no better because truthfully, I do not care how hypocritical I might sound. Barth doesn’t get to have what’s mine.”
“Listen to yourself!” She threw the book down beside her. “You ruin good things. You seem to be incapable of doing anything else. Why can’t you just let yourself care for me?”
He clenched his fists, taking a step away from her.
“Y-you can’t just kill him!”
His sharp teeth made an appearance. “Watch me,” he said in tense, harsh vowels, but the fire wasn’t there to match. Rowan took another step away, the air cooling around her again.
“Kill the Eldritch,” she challenged.
He gazed at her before circling the room. “No.”
Her lips parted, and a tiny, defeated sound escaped. “B-but, you said—”
“I know what I said.” He glared at her, and all softness finally fled.
Her heart hurt. “Let me go to see my father. If he’s dying, I need to see—”
“No,” he said louder, his voice rumbling through the floor.
She focused on her lap, counting her breaths. “Was this your plan, then? To make me fall for you?”
She looked up when he didn’t answer. “Do I mean anything to you?” she asked, shaking her head, tears spiraling down her cheeks. Again, silence.
“You never wanted a mate out of the desperation of your heart,” she cried. “You—you just wanted me to fall for you so you could use me.”
She went toward the door, her fingers shaking, her breathing clipped.
“Well,” she whispered. “I could never love a beast like you.” She said each word like it was a curse, like it made her sick to say.
She wanted to hurt him like he had hurt her so many times already, but the moment the words left her lips, guilt clawed at her throat.
He made a scary noise behind her, one she had only heard when he was in his beast form. “Liar,” he growled. But Paeonia didn’t turn to look at him as she ran out, and he didn’t move to follow.
She was leaving. She couldn’t take this any longer. She had to try to get to her father. She needed to do something! To at least be there for him.
Paeonia raced up the staircase. “Show me the way,” she almost shouted at the castle. She swirled down the halls like a mote, corridor after corridor, the candles on the wall beginning to spring to life. “Please,” she begged out loud.
Around the next bend, she faced a door with an alder tree.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the walls.
The castle groaned in response. When the handle didn’t budge, she realized this was Rowan’s room, not her own.
She thought for a brief moment before she took her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.
She stumbled inside, the rain growing louder, Rowan’s window left ajar, small icicles bouncing against the sill. She was quick to spot her golden locket atop his dresser, no other trinkets to shroud it. Nothing else to dig through. She bit her lip, steadying her tears threatening to break.
She knew it. She knew she didn’t leave it behind in the auction house.
Something in her gut told her, and she had been right.
She wanted to fight it. She desperately wanted to be wrong.
She slid it into her palm, squeezing it tight, giving Rowan’s room one last look, before leaving for good. This solidified it.
But as she slipped from the threshold, she wondered why he would steal, then leave it out in the open—so easy for her to take back. Perhaps he didn’t think her brave enough to enter his rooms.
She stormed into the gardens, the light rain melting the top layer of snow. Castor called out for her. Sybil next, both voices echoing from the castle’s door.
“Paeonia! Where are you off too? It’s raining.”
Castor was gaining on her, and she spun around. He almost crashed into her, Sybil close behind.
“I’m leaving.”
Sybil gasped. “You cannot be serious! You’ll turn to stone, just like us!”
Paeonia’s teeth clenched together, and she let the cry rip out of her. “I don’t care! I need to go to my father. I need to try.” She turned around, and Castor grabbed her arm. “Don’t touch me!” she shouted.
Castor reared back like a wounded animal. She didn’t have time to feel bad. She charged for the gates, determined to get back to her father even if it killed her.
And when she crossed over Rowan’s property, made her way to the path that edged along the forest, she was right again. She didn’t turn to stone.