Chapter 34 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
Paeonia braced herself against the chill, her dress soaked, small ice chips starting to ricochet off the ground. She winced, stumbling into the cover of the forest, the crowns of the trees blocking most of the elements.
She continuously checked her skin, convinced she was wrong and she would turn to stone. She clutched her necklace as she made her way further, following the main road along the wood’s edge. The locket grew warm in her fingers, an odd sensation given the way the metal was usually cool to the touch.
She glanced at it, her foot catching on a cluster of tree roots protruding from the dirt, and she had to catch herself against the trunk of a tree. Her locket glowed. She faltered, marveling at the gilded glowing gold.
She clutched her heavy cloak, soaked in water, and her boots scrunched the ice that coated the road.
The woods loomed strange and sickly around her—trees with bark blackened and split, vines crawling hungrily over trunks and stretching down into the village like claws.
When she stepped past the last line of pines, her heart clenched.
The cottages were drowned in ivy, doorways strangled by growth, windows shattered beneath curling roots. Not a single hearth smoked, no lanterns glowed. The square—once alive with chatter and warmth—was hollow and silent. Only the wind echoed through the ruins, carrying with it the stench of rot.
She let out a sigh of pure relief when she spotted her cottage and saw the smoke billowing out of the chimney. Her father was still alive, well enough to ignite the fireplace. She no longer felt her frozen toes and numb fingers. All she felt was thankfulness in her heart.
She hobbled as she darted to her cottage, her feet too cold to function properly. She ran up the front steps, her sobs audible now, and barged in through the door.
“Father!” Paeonia’s voice rang out the moment she crossed the threshold, desperate and trembling.
Silence.
Her chest tightened. “Father!” she cried again, louder this time, pleading.
“Nia?”
The voice—his voice—nearly broke her in two. She collapsed to her knees as her father shuffled into the front room. When his eyes widened, and his lips formed her name, the world seemed to still.
“Nia!” he shouted, stumbling forward.
Her tears streamed freely, blurring her vision—he was alive, and he was walking. “Father,” she sobbed, unable to rise.
He dropped before her, arms engulfing her against his chest, and she pressed her face against the worn fabric of his shirt. She was soaked and shivering, but she didn’t care. She only cared that he was warm, that he was real.
“Come,” he murmured, pulling her gently toward the hearth. He lowered her into a chair before the fire and tugged a blanket around her shoulders, his hands shaking as he tucked it close. “You’re freezing.”
She curled into the warmth, exhaling a trembling sigh. His gaze searched her face as if making sure she wasn’t a dream. “Paeonia,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Where have you been? When you stormed from the Beaumonts’… I feared…” He faltered, unable to finish.
“I’m sorry.” Her fingers clasped his. “I should never have left you like that.”
He shook his head, dismissing the apology. “Barth vanished too—I prayed he’d gone after you, but…” His words withered into a heavy silence.
When his hand brushed her cheek, she startled at the sight of the rot creeping up his skin, curling beneath his sleeve. Her heart sank. “Your arm,” she whispered.
He held her gaze instead of answering. Tears sprung from his eyes, withering down his wrinkled cheeks. “My sweet Nia,” he coaxed, his smile interlaced with pain. She collapsed into his arms again, both of them crying now.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled again.
His hand rubbed soothing circles along her back. “Where have you been?”
They pulled apart from one another, his hands lacing with hers. “I,” she started, but she wasn’t sure where to begin.
He cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away some of her tears.
“You won’t believe me,” she half-heartily laughed.
“Try me,” he coaxed.
She swallowed the dryness in her mouth. “I ran so far that I got lost. I stumbled into someone else’s property.” She sucked in a deep breath. “A fae’s property.”
Her father’s expression didn’t shift, so she continued.
“I got wrapped up in a bargain. Oh, I was so foolish to make a deal with him.” She shook her head.
“What kind of deal?”
She bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him it was about his health, he’d be so torn over the fact that she’d get herself into so much trouble over his wellbeing. “I would tend to his castle for one month. And in exchange, I wouldn’t have to marry Barth.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” he muttered softly. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You should have told me you didn’t want to marry him.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to worry you.”
“Paeonia, sweetheart, I’m sorry that you felt you had to make a deal with a mythical being to get out of your betrothal. I wish you would’ve told me. We could’ve figured it out together.”
“But that’s just the thing, Father. You’ve been so sick. You’ve been so worried you’re going to leave me alone and unable to take care of myself. I couldn’t put that kind of worry on you. I needed you to think I’d be safe if anything were to happen.”
His face fell. “I didn’t want you to compromise your life for me. I never should have—”
“Stop. It’s okay. I was the one who should have spoken up. I’ve been so meek. If I had just told you or Barth— Never mind that.”
“Of course I wanted to make sure you would be taken care of—” He coughed several times before clearing his throat. “But we could have figured it out.”
“What other way would you have proposed?”
He stared blankly at her. He didn’t know.
“That’s just the thing,” she started, gulping. “I accepted another’s. Proposal, that is.”
Her father looked at her with surprise and laughed, slightly unsure. “You, what?”
She held up her hand to display the ring.
He blinked several times. “Barth?” he questioned, clearly very lost.
She shook her head. “Well… The fae I had made a bargain with… I sort of made a second bargain. And it involved marrying him.”
He flashed with horror, shaking his head.
“No, it’s okay. Really. I think… I think—” Her hands found her forehead, ready to tug out her hair. She was so confused. Why did Rowan have to complicate everything?
“Are you saying you want to be bound to this fae?” He pronounced each word carefully, like he was still piecing it all together.
She bit her fingernail. “Would that be terrible of me?”
“Do not do this for me—”
“I’m not. I mean I am. And I will. But I foolishly think I’ve fallen for him.” She closed her eyes. “What a mess I’ve made.”
Her father squeezed her hand.
“I wanted to ask you,” she began, sitting closer to him. “About mother.”
His lips made a tight line. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
“She was…?”
He nodded. “I didn’t know until after she passed. But yes, she was part fae.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“With the way you already felt like an outcast your whole life; I just didn’t want to add to that. To give you something else… I didn’t think it mattered.”
“I wish you would have told me.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I never should have kept that from you.”
After a moment of silence, he pushed to his feet, wincing. “You must be hungry. Let me—”
“Father.” She caught his hand and drew him back to her side. The fire popped softly, shadows flickering across his face. “It’s getting worse.”
He only shrugged, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “No cure has been found.”
She hated that he carried the sickness like a burden he deserved. That he thought it was his failing, his punishment.
He knelt once more, his voice rough but steady. “You must go to Deser, Nia. I am one of the last left here. It spreads too fast. The forest is melting and breaking us. I cannot risk you staying.”
Her breath hitched. “Why haven’t you left?”
His answer was a cough, his frame sinking into his armchair with exhaustion. “I’m not well enough to travel.”
Her heart fractured. The burst of strength he’d shown her at her arrival was already fading, and he looked older than she’d ever seen him. She wondered if Barth would have helped him escape if he hadn’t been locked in Rowan’s cellar.
“Then we’ll go together,” she urged. “I’ll pack our things—you can lean on me—”
He shook his head firmly. “No. I cannot. My body won’t carry me past these woods.
” His eyes softened as he looked at her.
“Nia, I’ve prayed every day you would return.
Perhaps that’s why I lingered so long. But now that you’re here, I can let go.
My only wish is for you to live. Go. Before the sun sets. ”
The rage that surged in her chest startled even her. Never had she felt it toward him.
Taking him away to the neighboring town would do no good. She needed to find a cure. She needed to kill the Eldritch. She had to. She had to return to him.
“No.” Her voice was steady, sharper than she’d ever spoken to him. He blinked at her, surprised. “I’m not leaving you to die. Not here. Not like this.” She couldn’t go to Deser alone. If she wasn’t here with her father, there was only one place for her.
His eyes glistened, and for a fleeting second, he almost smiled. “My little Nia,” he whispered, proud even in his sorrow.
“Father, I only just got back to you!”
“And I am so glad I got to see your beautiful face again. To know you’re alive. But I will never forgive myself if you get the forsaken because you stayed in this cottage alongside me when you had the time to escape.”
If her father couldn’t leave, she’d have to stop the forest from spreading. From taking over Findale. The rot creeping far beyond the forest’s line.
She clasped his hand tightly, then rose, determination hardening her spine. She knew what she had to do to save him. She was done letting others decide for her. She was done accepting ‘no’ as an answer. She was going to get her way, even if it killed her.
“I will go. But I will come back for you.”
He tried to protest, his voice hoarse. “No—don’t return. Promise me—”
“I will come back.” Her words cut through, fierce and certain.
His lips trembled, torn between pleading and pride.
She moved quickly after that—changing from her wet dress, pulling on boots and gloves, her handmade clothes hugging her frame. When she returned, she tended the fire, draped another blanket across his lap, even brewed him tea. Each small act was a vow.
She would do as her father asked, but she wouldn’t retreat to Deser.
She had allowed Rowan to tell her no. To tell her he wouldn’t help her save her father.
But she didn’t think he meant it. He may have learned how to read her, to tell when she refused to let her thoughts leave her mind.
But she had also learned so much about him.
So much she knew to be true even if he didn’t see it himself.
He would help her. She would even bet he desired to help her; he just had no room to breathe life into those wants. But what if she forced the room? What if she showed him he didn’t have to sabotage whatever this spark was between them every time they seemed to reach mutual ground?
Standing before her father one last time, her voice broke. “Do not die on me.”
It was the most direct she had ever spoken to him.
Then she stepped into the night, the sky darkening overhead, leaving her heart behind in the glow of the firelight. Leaving the place she had been yearning to return for weeks now. Heading back to the place she just condemned.