Chapter 42
?PAEONIA
Paeonia dragged herself up the stairs, each movement ragged, her lungs burning.
The thought of leaving pulsed with her every sob, every tear that blurred her vision.
But where would she go? How could she save her father when she was barely keeping herself from falling apart?
A cry of frustration tore from her throat, and she forced herself upright, stumbling faster until she burst through the main-level door and staggered into the hall.
Her hair clung to her cheeks, her face sweaty and red.
She moved through the castle like a phantom, the sconces flickering along her path, casting her in half-light.
Her chest felt hollow, weighted with something she couldn’t name, and when she rounded the corner and found Rowan and Castor in the conservatory, her heart clenched.
She expected rage—expected to spit curses at Rowan, to bare her teeth and snarl.
But instead her knees nearly buckled. She wanted to fall before him, to beg him to deny what she thought she’d heard from Sybil and Lord Olivander.
To tell her the house itself was cruel, twisting voices into lies.
To swear he hadn’t betrayed her. That he wasn’t setting her up to die at the hands of his brother.
They both turned. Rowan’s silver-dark eyes fastened onto her. His body had shifted, horns gleaming, claws flexed. He looked her over once.
“What happened?” His voice was calm at first, but then it sharpened. “Why are you out of your room?” Accusation coated each word like she had committed some unspeakable crime.
Her throat tightened. Her lips trembled; her whole body shook. The tears must have stained her face, her hand now grimy from when she crawled up the stairs, her skirts stained.
Rowan shifted with a bit more concern. “Pae—”
“Don’t call me that!” Her voice cracked like lightning, vibrant enough to make both males freeze.
Rowan’s jaw clenched. Castor tilted his head, watching her carefully as though she might shatter.
She swallowed a breath, recentering herself. “Why’d you do it?” she asked.
Rowan lifted a hand in a placating gesture. “Do what?”
She imagined Castor was looking at her with pity, his head tilted as he kept it directed at her, not Rowan.
“You tricked me.” She shut her eyes, fists curling at her sides. “How? How did you make me love you?”
The silence pressed in around her, unbearable. Her breath came in shudders.
“You—” her words hitched, “you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.
The only one who’s ever—” She faltered, then forced herself on.
“You’ve ruined me, Rowan. Stained me in darkness.
Took every ounce of light I had and claimed it for yourself.
” She turned her back to him, pressing her trembling hands against her arms as though she could keep herself from falling apart.
“At first, I thought it might truly be the bond. A lie I could believe. But the way I crave your touch—the way it feels like the only comfort I’ve ever known—that isn’t false.
I couldn’t even relax in my own father’s hold for long, but you—” Her voice cracked.
“You made me want it. Need it. The number of times you made me miserable here, and yet, it was always you whom I wanted to comfort me about it.”
She steadied herself against the wall. “Even now, even in your wyld glamour, I find you…beautiful. Even now, when I should hate you, I want you. I want you to tell me it’s all a mistake. That you would never betray me.” She turned on him, her tears sparking in the firelight. “How pathetic is that?”
His focus narrowed, locked on her. “Paeonia, what are you talking about? Speak plainly.”
“You trapped me here, knowing Laurus would kill me after I helped you break the curse. You’ve known he was going to kill me this entire time.”
His silence was worse than cruelty. Worse than any insult.
“I’ve grown to love you,” she whispered, each word like a wound opening. “And for that, I think you must be my punishment, Rowan. My punishment for all my wrongdoings. For turning away Barth. For getting him caged—” Her voice clogged when she pictured him strung up in the cell.
Rowan shifted like he wanted to move to her, his chest rising and falling, taut with restraint. His voice, when it came, was rough. “Then you must be my savior, Pae.”
She shut her eyes. “Do not mock me.”
Castor seemed to take a step back.
“I’m not.” Rowan moved closer. She recoiled against the wall, but he stilled, his gaze burning.
“I don’t deserve good things. Not after all I’ve done.
But you—” His voice cracked, low and fierce.
“You forced your light into me, and I cannot shake it. The dark that shrouds me—this castle—has been wafted over, drenched in sunlight. I find it just as painful to know I’m drawn to such good, to something so sweet and light.
To know I could easily find you in the woods, sensing the purity of you, the goodness, the sweetness. And how much I want that.
“You’ve shifted the darkness that haunts me. You’ve forced your light inside, igniting depths I never knew could be reached. You’ve unraveled me,” he growled, as if this unsettled him. “And now—” He swallowed a breath. “Now, I live only for you.”
“Rowan,” Castor pleaded, but Rowan ignored him.
“If you cared about me, you wouldn’t have walked me straight into a trap. You lied. You lied and everyone knew.” Her words fell, her breath hitching as she glanced at Castor. “You’ve been leading me like a pig to slaughter.”
He breathed her name, and she hated the remorse that struck his features.
“I didn’t think it would ever end up this way,” he pleaded as Paeonia shook her head.
“I thought I was uncaring, that I could be so cold. I had never believed in mates, never thought I’d truly have one.
And if I did, I did not think it’d be you.
I thought she’d be someone as wicked as me.
Not you. Never you. But someone lost and angry.
So, when you appeared in my gardens, that was the cruelest trick of all.
That you—soft, kindhearted, relentless you—were what fate tied to me.
I think you’ve turned into my retribution, and that hurts me more than anything else. ”
“Rowan!” Castor snapped.
Rowan turned to him, anger on his feral features.
“She loves you,” he said flatly, holding his ground.
Rowan’s shoulders stiffened, his whole frame taut. “Get her out.”
“Where?” Castor begged.
“Anywhere! Away from here. Take her away, and do not tell me where!”
Her gaze darted between them, confusion gnawing. “What is happening?”
Castor didn’t look at her. “You’ve grown to love him, Peony.”
She shook her head. “So?”
His grip on her arm tightened, pulling her. “You’ve broken the curse.”