“No, it does.” I run my hand over a nearby branch. The bark is rough beneath my fingers. “It’s harder to stay, sometimes, even if that’s the right thing.”
“Yes.”
“So how did you lead the chant before I was here?”
“Before?” His mouth lifts into a distant smile. “Elan led the chant. He liked to sing.”
Oh.I move closer until our shoulders brush. “I hope he had a nicer voice than I do.”
Rowan laughs softly. Moonlight filters between the trees and catches the lines of his face. Absently, he touches the scars that cross his jaw. “Sometimes I feel like he hasn’t truly gone. I keep expecting to turn around and see him there.”
“Or you hear a sound. And it’s not a voice, but it almost could be.” Memories of my family dance under my skin. They have their own kind of magic. I think of a garden, a cottage, stories told in the firelight. “I guess they’re alwayswithus, somehow. But it’s not the same, is it?”
“Not the same, no. When I see you and Arien together—the way you play and tease and annoy each other—it makes me miss Elan even more.”
“Hm.” I squint at the branches above, then smile at him. “If you like, I could climb into one of these trees and throw apples at you. Would that help?”
“I’m not sure how I feel about your ideas ofhelp.” He says it lightly, but his eyes are sad, and soon the laughter is gone from his voice. “Everyone I care about has been hurt because of me. I don’t want you to risk yourself because of my selfish mistakes.”
“No one else will be hurt,” I tell him. “I promise.”
I step toward him, struck by how alone we are with the village far behind us. There’s only the night sky and the quiet orchard and the scent of woodsmoke. When Rowan strokes his hand gently over my flower-threaded curls, the distance between us feels all at once too much and not enough.
His fingers trail over my cheek, down the line of my jaw. He’s still wearing his gloves. He pauses, takes them off, then touches beneath my chin, tilting my face upward.
He kisses me, softly at first, then his hands find the curve of my waist, and he pulls me closer. A scatter of flowers spills down around us from my hair. “Rowan,” I breathe, and he kisses his name from my mouth.
There’s a wistfulness in his touch, as though he’s trying to memorize each piece of this moment. Everything turns melted, slow, as his hands trace over me. Even the magic that lights my palms glimmers with an indolent warmth. I’m filled with an ache that is both painful and wonderful. It feels so good to be close to him like this. I wish we could stay here in the moonlight, among the trees, forever.
He cradles my face between his hands and presses his lips against my temple; a soft, tender motion that makes tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.
“Leta.” His voice is a drift of sparks that rise into the moonlit air. “Leta, I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
I lean my head against his chest. I can feel his heart, beating fast.
Once again I weigh and measure, wonder what I might give up to the Lord Under in exchange for one single night of power. I think of strength and magic and protection, of everything that I’d have if I made a bargain with him.
I can’t do it. I know I can’t accept his help. But oh, I wish I could.
Chapter Twenty
Lakesedge is silent when we return from the bonfire. Arien sleeps beside me the whole ride home. I help him stumble tiredly up to his room, my arm around his waist, his head drowsing against my shoulder. When I reach the top of the stairs, I look back at Rowan, who is still in the entrance hall. “Good night.”
He smiles at me. “Good night, Leta.”
When I’m alone in my room, I lie on top of my quilts, still in my bonfire dress. Petals scatter from my hair, and I breathe in the scent of ash and pine and smoke. It’s late, almost dawn, but I can’t fall asleep. When I close my eyes, all I see is the house. How it looked when we passed beneath the iron arch of the gateway. Wrapped with ivy, tucked between the hills, one window aglow with lamplight, a curl of smoke from the kitchen chimney.
Home.Lakesedge is my home. The thought rose, unbidden. And now it’s taken root in me. Found a place between heart and rib.Home.
I want it safe. This beautiful, vine-wreathed house. My tangled, half-forgotten garden. My family. My friends. I want to protect it all.
I roll over restlessly, stretch out my hands, look down at my palms. One marked, the other plain. I have two choices, but either way I am damned. I’ll be forced to watch the Corruption take everything away unless I make a terrible bargain with the lord of the dead. Maybe the only choice I have left ishowI want the hurt to happen. My eyes drift to the corner of my room, to the place where the dark water first poured down.
“What would you ask?” My voice is a whisper, and each hesitant word feels more dangerous than the one before. As though the Lord Under might come to me, right at this moment. “How much would you want?”
A sound rustles inside the walls. I blink. A breeze blows soft through my open window. The corner darkens, for just a breath. I close my eyes. I think of his hand beside my cheek. How the air grew so cold as he moved closer to me. There’s no voice, no darkness. But I already know the answer. He will take as much of me as I am willing to give. He would have me, entire.
