“The Lord Under.”
“Yes. What did you say about him? He was kind. I was frightened, like you. But he held my hand and told me that he could save me. When he asked what I would give in exchange for my life, I said anything. I suppose it’s a pity I didn’t have any magic to offer him.” Rowan laughs darkly, then his expression turns solemn. “When I woke up on the shore, the water had turned black, and I thought that had been the price. My parents were so angry and worried that I couldn’t bring myself to tell them what had really happened.”
“So you pushed it down.” It’s hard to speak, remembering how I felt when I was in his place, how hard I tried to forget what I’d done in the Vair Woods. “And after a while it felt almost like it hadn’t been real.”
“Strange to think we have such a thing in common, isn’t it?” He reaches out and traces over the sigil on my wrist. The gentle touch of his roughened fingers on my skin is like an offer, a question. I lean toward him, and he lifts his other hand to touch my face. “Leta,” he murmurs. “Leta, I—”
But then he starts to cough. He closes his eyes, fighting against it, as darkness spreads across his throat.
Light glows from my hand, drawn out by the surge of shadows within him. I put my fingers over his heart and try to focus. The blackened tendrils start to shimmer, just like the lakeshore did earlier today at the ritual. I think of a garden, my father with his hands in the dirt as he turned stems to flowers. His magic is my magic. Petals and seeds, leaves and pollen.
My power is a thread, tied to Rowan. What I have is only a single flower, the smallest candle flame. I wish so terribly that I were strong enough to mend him entirely. All I can do is picture my magic unspun inside him, a brief flare of warmth against the cold, poisoned darkness.
Slowly, the Corruption fades back to pale shadows.
“Thank you.” He holds my hand tightly for a moment, then moves aside to make space on the chaise. “Sit down with me. I’ll tell you how it happened.”
I glance at his makeshift bed, which is ridiculously neat, the linen sheets crisp and freshly ironed. But his hair is tangled, and there are creases on his face from where he’s lain against the pillow. He’s more undone than I’ve ever seen him.
I sit down next to him, close but not quite touching. I can feel the warmth, left behind from while he slept.
He stares pensively out into the room. “When I turned thirteen, my parents threw an enormous party. All their friends from other estates, from as far as Anglria, brought their children. I danced all night, trying to work up the courage to kiss Linden Hawke before he went home.”
I give him a little shove. “Who knew you had such a wild youth?”
He laughs softly, embarrassed. “Elan told me I had to choose whoever had the prettiest brother, then we’d all live together in a tree house in the garden.”
“That might have been a little chilly in winter.”
They’re bittersweet, these memories. Rowan and I exchange a small smile, and he continues.
“We made ourselves sick drinking spiced wine. Elan stole my cake from the kitchen table. We ate half of it together. Florence was furious, but Mother just laughed. She iced it again and told everyone it was supposed to be shaped like a moon.”
Arien and I never celebrate our birthdays; we don’t even know when they are. Each new year as the world turns, we just add another year of our own. When Rowan danced and Elan plotted their future house among the trees, I was eleven. I scrubbed floors and chopped kindling. I made up stories and sat, watchful, beside Arien in the dark.
I picture Rowan surrounded by his family. Loved and happy. I can see it so clearly: the now-empty house full of light and voices, lanterns strung along the drive, candles that shimmer over a crescent of freshly iced cake.
I know how it ended, but still, it fills me with a cold flare of envy. “It sounds wonderful.”
His smile fades. “At the end of the night, my father put his arm around my shoulders. He told me I was a man now. And then…” Rowan presses his hands to his mouth for a moment. When he goes on, his voice is muffled inside his palms. “The whole room went dark, like someone had blown out all the lights. The Lord Under, he came back for me. You’ve had your childhood, he said, the rest of your life is mine. That was his anything. He let me live; then he returned to claim me. It was the only other time I’ve seen him, aside from when I was saved. And that first time, he was kind. But this time…”
Rowan’s fingers clench over the space he can’t fill with words. But I’ve seen that same darkness. This will hurt. The Lord Under can be kind, but he can also be so terribly cruel. I shiver and pull the quilts higher around me.