Page 20 of The Fire Apprentice (Sylvania #5)

J ane stumbled through the doorway and into Rowan’s arms. Maybe landing her in his arms had been Rose’s plan, and if Jane was honest, she didn’t mind. Rose knew her too well.

Rowan righted her and let her go as the door snicked shut behind her. Jane’s face was hot and color stained Rowan’s cheeks. She risked another glance up at him as he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

He tilted his chin down at his bare torso. “I could—”

“No, you don’t have—”

“What?”

“I mean, don’t put on a shirt for me.” Now she sounded like she wanted him to stay half-naked. Not that she minded, but... Jane collected herself. “I mean, whatever you want to do is fine.”

Rowan settled for crossing one arm over his stomach and the other bent vertically across the first, with his fist against his heart. A short, fat candle burned behind him and lit his skin with a steady light.

The room was small but not cramped, with a table on one side with the candle and a cot on the other. Jane shivered but it couldn’t be colder here than it had been in the tunnels. A shelf on the back wall held a stack of folded clothes.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” Jane blurted out. “I worried about you. Why did you leave?”

He stared at the floor. “Elle’s home safe. You don’t need me anymore.”

“It wasn’t all about Elle. I know you know that. Why did you leave?”

He exhaled. “I’m no good for you. Someone else could offer you more than I ever could.”

Jane gaped at him. He sounded like... she didn’t even know what. Like someone else’s words were coming from his lips. Where was the kind, confident man who’d guided her through the mountains?

Jane frowned as ideas clicked into place. “What did Larch say to you?”

“He sent me home.”

“He told me you only came to Woods Rest because he sent you.”

Rowan finally looked up.

“But I know that’s not true even if he thinks it is. That’s not what you told me.”

“It’s not true,” Rowan said.

“So if Larch got that wrong, maybe he got a few other things wrong. What did he say to you?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “He said...”

“What?”

“Now that you want me to repeat it, I worry it’s not nice.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

Rowan’s brow wrinkled, his eyes pleading.

“I don’t give two figs what Larch thinks about anything.”

He dropped his gaze. “He said, Jane wants sex and romance—not you.”

“Skies, can’t I have all three?”

Rowan’s face cracked into a smile.

“It’s not true,” Jane said. “Maybe Larch thinks it is, but it’s not. I’d rather have you to walk with and talk to than all the tumbling in the world.”

Rowan dropped his arms to his sides. “I know Larch has done terrible things,” Rowan said, “and I’m done with him. But he helped me once. He risked his safety to help me. I know he must care about me.”

Did he though? From what Jane had seen, Larch did what was best for himself. Seeing Rowan hedging around the truth and making excuses for Larch made her want to hit something. She clenched her fists at her sides.

“Larch said words to make you think you’re not good enough for me.”

“I’m not good enough for anyone. I’m ashamed of my past. I’m lousy at magic and I’ve failed at every craft and trade I’ve tried.” His arms came up again, crossing in front of him.

Jane couldn’t help herself. She took hold of the fist beneath his chin and wrapped her hands around it, pulling it away. “You are good at something. You never had the opportunity to learn how to use it properly. Axe was supposed to be your mentor, wasn’t he?”

Rowan nodded.

“And he still wants to teach you, doesn’t he?”

“It’s too late,” Rowan said, and he took back his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have to learn fire magic when you’re young.”

“How do you know?”

“All the other wielders of fire magic learned when they were children.”

“But has an adult ever tried?”

“I can’t bear to fail Axe again,” Rowan said. “I’ve already failed him so many times.”

“You don’t think he’d rather have you try to learn?”

“I can’t do the magic. I have tried.”

“What do you mean? Help me understand.”

“I tried to learn on my own. I practiced pulling the heat from lamps and hearthstones. I don’t even know if that counts as fire magic, but I could do it and I tricked myself into thinking I was learning. I wanted to learn so badly. But when I tried with a flame, all I did was burn my fingers.” He held up his hands and she understood: those marks crisscrossing his fingers were scars from fire.

“But no one expects you to learn on your own. That’s why you apprentice with a dragon.”

Rowan’s shoulders sagged. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. She was never going to convince him with her words. He’d keep going in circles with excuses because he was so sure he couldn’t learn.

She studied what she could see of his face—his hair falling to hide his eyelashes, his straight nose and curved lips. The cut on his lips pained her but didn’t make him any less perfect. He was the most capable person she’d ever met, and it killed her that he couldn’t see his own value. And it made no sense they wouldn’t be together when he made her so happy, and she wanted to bring him the same joy.

She would want him even if he took up the trade of a tinsmith and bashed candlestick holders to pieces every day. But he seemed to yearn for something—for a craft—and it must be his fire magic. It was in his skin, and he couldn’t help but want to use it.

Deep inside, she believed he could learn to use his magic. Because he could do anything. And Axe wouldn’t be waiting on Rowan if it were impossible for him to learn the magic as an adult. But she needed Rowan to believe it was possible, too.

Jane tugged at the fabric tied around her wrist, the cloth ripped from Elle’s first blanket. It was so old and brittle that as soon as she pulled on one loop, the tension snapped it in two. She loosened the rest and slipped it over her knuckles and off. The length of fabric unwound until it hung a few hands’ widths below her hand.

She stepped past Rowan and held the end over the candle. The flame caught it immediately, devouring the bottom and licking up the fabric toward her hand.

She turned to Rowan. His gaze darted to her hand and he gasped.

“Jane, drop it!”

She held the flaming ribbon higher and glared at him. The flames were climbing eagerly and the heat on her hand grew worse and worse, but she was not going to drop it until the last possible moment. Because she needed Rowan to believe in himself. The heat hurt, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from whimpering. She barely saw Rowan’s face shift as his horror changed to resolve.

He stepped toward her and wrapped both of his hands around the fire and in a blink it was gone. The intense heat disappeared. The charred fabric hung from her grip. Not a wisp of smoke appeared.

Rowan examined his bare hands. He wrapped them together as if each was inspecting the other, as if they might not be real.

He looked up with wide eyes, then glanced at the burnt ribbon and his face hardened. “Don’t you ever do that again.” His voice hitched at the end as his anger collapsed and he reached for her.

Jane lifted her chin. “Don’t you ever doubt yourself again.”