Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I could point out that he’s proving my point about the Cŵn Annwn as a whole, but I don’t. Bowen knows. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and a lifetime of conditioning won’t be dismantled in that time, either. He’s questioning it now, though. He’ll keep questioning it. It might get him killed, but he won’t go back to the way he was before. “Bowen—”
“Get dressed.” He’s still not quite looking at me. “It would be best if they didn’t know you were here to question why you aren’t coming aboard. Dia won’t say anything, but the townsfolk might. I’ll get you to the portal tonight. Now.”
Now.
Again, I have to bite down on the desire to ask him to come with me. He already gave his answer. He made his choice. I made mine. We both have our own paths to follow, and they diverge as soon as we walk out this door. Simple as that.
It still feels awful to get dressed in silence, my body still sore and singing from our time together. The feeling will fade, no matter how much I wish I could tattoo the memory of his touch on my very skin. I’ll escape and the years will eat the little details of my time with Bowen, just like they’ve devoured so many memories of Bunny. I’ll be left with vague impressions and a glossed-over image that lacks the true depth of what I feel right now.
Gods, I am so tired of being left behind. Even if I’m the one doing the leaving this time.
But staying is out of the question. I’m a witch and a thief. I’m not a rebel fighter. The only fights I like are ones that I know I can win, and going to battle against a literal navy is a surefire way to get yourself killed. That’s definitely against Bunny’s rules.
Part of me wants to despite that. It’s a small part, but it’s there.
Bowen must catch the strange thoughts flickering across my face, because he shakes his head. “You want to go home. That’s always what you wanted. As much as I wish you would stay, I don’t want you to make that choice for the wrong reasons and end up resenting me.”
He’s such a damn paladin. So self-sacrificing. If he was a little more selfish, he would have fucked me a few more times and entangled my heart completely. Instead, he’s ushering me out into the darkness to give me exactly what I want.
Really, he’s too good for me. Except, you know, for being a murderer on behalf of elder gods. Tiny detail, really.
Every noble cause loves a martyr, but your name living on as legend won’t matter much when you’re worm food.
Bunny’s right. I know she’s right. But my steps grow slower as we leave the village and work our way through the forest to the north. There is no cat-sìth here to force us to turn back. Instead, the trees seem to hold their breath as we move through them, as if they fear us.
And yet they’re so familiar that they make my heart ache. I recognize the sight and smell of maple, pine, and hawthorn. If not for the man at my side, I could almost believe that I’m actually back home and this has all been a dream. “Bowen.”
“Mmm?”
“If you could find out where you came from and go back, would you?”
He pauses long enough for me to catch up and then matches his stride to mine. “The easy answer is no. This is all I’ve ever known and suddenly finding out about the first thirteen years of my life doesn’t unmake the last twenty. But sometimes I wonder about my mother.” He shrugs. “It’s possible she was a terrible person and that’s how I ended up here, or that she died. But … I wonder.”
“It’s hard not to wonder.” I step over a fallen log. “Bunny was my everything, but my mother was her daughter. I think losing her … Well, Bunny didn’t like to talk about my mother. She died when I was six.” My memories of the woman who birthed me are more vague impressions than anything else at this point. The scent of rosemary. Scarlet lips that left their imprint on my cheeks when she kissed me. Green eyes just like mine, just like Bunny’s.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. For you, I mean.” I clear my throat. “Don’t get me wrong. I wanted for nothing growing up. Bunny was the best grandmother a person could ask for.”
Bowen touches the small of my back, guiding me to the right of a tree. “I’m sorry you lost Bunny. She must have been a wonderful woman to have raised you to be someone equally wonderful.”
I miss a step. I can’t even focus on that compliment, not with my throat closing and my chest going too tight. Gods, I both love and hate this feeling. I don’t want to break down every time I think of my grandmother, but this is real. Proof that her fingerprints are on every aspect of my life. That I built myself from the foundation she helped create. “I miss her.”