Page 72

She stepped closer to him, so that they shared the same breath. “Owein,” she pleaded. Moonlight glinted off tears in her eyes. “We can even stay here if you want to stay here. In the States.”

He shook his head. “You’ll miss your—”

“You can’t marry her if you’re married to someone else, right?” she pressed, and Owein’s stomach dropped into his pelvis. “They won’t recognize a Druid marriage, but it’s easy to elope here.”

His organs seemed to melt, yet a chill coursed up his middle. Her words were like a hammer to his sternum. He felt it crack. Felt it expose his too-quick, bleeding heart. “Fallon,” he whispered.

“Please, Owein.”

They stood like that for a long time, the air thick between them, cold hands clasped so tightly he couldn’t tell his fingers from hers. Ash barked back at the house. Digging for words, Owein licked his lips. His voice had a slight tremor when he spoke. “My father ... I don’t remember a lot about him. But he was a good man. I know that much.”

Fallon searched his eyes, confused, before offering a hesitant nod.

“Merritt”—Owein swallowed—“he’s a good man, too. The best I know.” His gut twisted and shrunk. “I want to be one, too.”

Fallon’s grip somehow tightened even more. “You are, Owein.”

“Fallon.” Her name shivered as it passed his tongue, thick with emotion. “Fallon, I signed my name to that contract.”

Her hold lightened.

“I made a promise.” His heart resolidified, only to shred itself with a thousand rusty knives. “Ipromisedher.”

A tear escaped Fallon’s eye, tracing the heart shape of her face. “Owein, you don’t have to—”

“But I do,” he whispered, releasing her hand to wipe away her tear, only to have one of his own fall. “I’ve ... I’ve always known I would. I can’t turn my back on that. On everything they gave me.”

“Blightreegave it to you,” Fallon ground out, more tears clouding her eyes. “Blightree, not Cora.”

“He did, and he died to give it to me again.” He paused, nearly overcome. “Cora is just as bound to it as I am.”

She released him, shaking her head. Swept hair behind her. Wiped her face dry. Meeting his eyes, she asked, “Do you love her?”

He shifted back, as though she’d pushed him. “I ...”

No words came out.

Her anger cracked and fell, leaving only sorrow to weigh down her beautiful features. “Don’t you loveme, Owein?”

Stepping forward, he seized her in a tight embrace. Held her close, as though he could fuse her body to his. She crushed him back, hugging nearly hard enough to cut off his air. He burrowed his face into her hair and simply held her like that. He could have held her like that forever, and it wouldn’t have been long enough.

But he had promised.

“I will always love you,” he murmured.

She knew it for what it was. He didn’t have to explain further; it was like that with Fallon. Easy, straightforward. They understood each other, even when one of them wore the body of a dog. That truth,I will always love you, settled between them, another promise Owein would keep.

“I can still help them,” he whispered into her hair. “The Druids. I’ll have some political power—”

She pulled back, shaking her head, taking her scents of summer and irises with her. “I don’t care about that anymore, Owein.” She looked at him, moonlight reflecting off her eyes, and in them he saw a final glimmer of hope, a moment gifted for Owein to come to his senses and change his mind.

He didn’t, and it crushed him.

“You know where to find us,” Fallon managed through a tight throat. She barely got out the last words: “If you ever need us.”

She let go of him. Pulled away with her head turned so he wouldn’t see her face, even with the night masking it. She pulled away a woman, and flew away a hawk, leaving her linen dress in a pile at his feet. The sinking truth that she wouldn’t return for it struck him like a sledgehammer.

Owein fell to his knees and picked it up, folding it into a nice rectangle before his dam broke and he sobbed, watering grape fern and common reed with his tears.