Page 5 of The Fire Apprentice (Sylvania #5)

T he innkeeper grinned at Jane across the counter. “My hayloft’s getting more action than I am.” Jane’s face heated like her cheeks were on fire. The innkeeper had offered the inn’s stable to them at no charge, which was apparently common these days—although the innkeeper made it sound like travelers were using the hayloft for a tumble instead of a night’s rest.

“Thank you for letting us stay,” Rowan said in his low voice. Jane tilted her head, watching him use that seductive tone on the innkeeper. Earlier she had half-jokingly wondered if he cast a spell simply by speaking to her, using that voice to convince her to be reckless and travel with him. But he wouldn’t do the same to the innkeeper.

Unless he was using a spell to get them a free place to stay.

“Take the lantern,” the innkeeper said, gesturing to a lamp flickering on the counter, “and hang it inside the stable door. It’ll give you enough light to get settled and I’ll come by and get it in a bit.”

Rowan thanked her again and lifted the lantern off the counter. He wore his pack over one shoulder. Each time he moved it, it made odd clinking noises. Jane tried not to think about chains.

Jane picked up her own bag and followed him out the door. Dusk had fallen and moved on to darkness even before their wagon ride had rolled to a stop in the center of the crossroads. The outpost looked exactly the same as it had when she and Liza had come through last moon. A handful of houses stood at the intersection, along with a newly built general store with a light inside, showing mostly bare shelves. The inn had been here longer and included a small dining room where a few customers drank ale and played music.

As she followed Rowan off the porch, she peered down the road heading west, the one they would take up into the mountains tomorrow. Beyond the light from the store and a lantern hanging over the inn’s porch was a wall of solid black. A few night insects called, but the forest seemed to be sleeping. Until an owl screeched and Jane startled and tripped. And Rowan—suddenly facing back toward her—put out a hand to catch her. She blushed again.

She muttered thanks and watched where she was stepping. Around the side of the inn, a path wide enough for a wagon led to the back with the outhouse and pump and the stable. The lights of the outpost faded to only their lantern, and she trailed her fingertips along the rough wooden boards of the inn’s wall to keep herself steady. In spite of the relative silence out front, the backyard was even quieter without the noise filtering out of the dining room. Once the sunlight had gone, the temperature had dropped, but hay was supposed to be warm so hopefully they’d be able to sleep.

The stable was a long wooden structure on the far side of the grassy yard from the inn and outhouse. Woods towered behind the building. The lantern illuminated a solid wall of wide vertical boards until Rowan scanned with the light and found a door. He lifted the lantern onto the hook inside and stepped all the way in.

Was she being reckless? Sleeping in a hayloft with someone she barely knew—a male someone, and a fairy? But Rowan didn’t feel threatening, in spite of the fact that he might be carrying a pack full of chains. His actions today didn’t suggest he’d make advances toward her tonight. And truly, a hayloft wasn’t that romantic. It was probably an itchy place to sleep. Jane followed him, leaving the door ajar so the innkeeper would have a sliver of light to see by.

Daytime warmth still hovered in the stable and the musty smell of hay and animal dung filled her nostrils. A lone horse snuffled in the stall beside the entrance. A large sliding door on the left would open to allow a wagon into the space. The center floor was empty, with a few barrels pushed up against the back wall, and deep shadows filled the empty stalls.

A ladder down the end on the right led up into the center of the loft. To the sides, in the dim light that reached that far, lumpy bales of hay were stacked less than halfway to the rafters now winter had passed, but the entrance by the top of the ladder was clear. Jane moved her satchel strap across her chest to wear the bag on her back and followed Rowan through the stable and up the ladder.

Someone had obviously slept in the place before. While most of the hay was baled, the area against the back wall had a thick layer of loose hay across the floor. Rowan headed straight back into the shadows. Jane lingered in the light. But once the innkeeper retrieved the lantern, pitch darkness would fill the stable, so what were a few shadows? If mice or birds nested in the hay, she’d have to face them sometime. She sighed and followed him.

He dropped his pack to the floor with a clang. “Are you tired?”

The moment he said it, Jane yawned.

“I have things to tell you but if you’re too tired I can wait till morning.”

If she had been tired, she wasn’t now. “I’m not too tired.”

“Sit,” he said quietly.

She slid her satchel over her head and knelt in the hay opposite Rowan. Her nose twitched from the dusty air, but the stable was dry and having shelter was comforting. Who knew where they’d be tomorrow night.

She glanced across at Rowan. He’d seated himself with his legs crossed and rested his elbows on his knees. He bit his thumbnail before stopping himself and lowering his hand, which he studied, one thumb rubbing over the other. He did have a scar there, at the base of his thumb—a dark slash that couldn’t be merely a callus. His hair had fallen forward and hid his face. Until he looked up and caught her staring at him.

She shifted onto her bottom and tucked her legs beneath her, trying and failing to act calm. “What did you want to tell me?” she asked, and it came out overly perky.

Rowan sat up, tugging on his shirt neckline. “I imagine it’s hard for you to trust a fairy,” he said, watching the floor. His voice was barely audible. “I want you to trust me.”

What could she say to that?

“I’m sorry I hid what I was when I came to your village.”

Something about the way he said “your village” prickled at Jane’s shoulders. As if he’d come there... for her.

“I don’t want to have secrets.”

Jane barely breathed as she waited for him to continue.

“I have things to tell you,” he repeated. “If they make you want to go home, I’ll find a ride for you in the morning and I’ll go into the mountains alone and find Elle.”

Dread followed the tingles up her shoulders and down her chest.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know Larch,” he murmured, avoiding her face.

The name was jarring but not surprising. “He was the queen’s son,” Jane said. “I imagine all the fairies know him.”

“We were close as children.”

“You were friends?”

He nodded.

“Are you still?”

Rowan hesitated. “I no longer respect him.”

“Is he living nearby?” Jane asked, herself hesitating. “I always wondered...”

“He’s in the forest near Woodglen.”

That was where Rose lived. Jane had never wanted to visit Rose’s new home because of a deep-down apprehension of seeing Larch again. And she would never take Elle back there, near the place where she’d been imprisoned. Although Rose didn’t live in the underground caverns where Elle had lived. She had a treehouse out in the forest. Which sounded rather nice, except Larch might be nearby.

Jane had never asked Rose what happened to Larch after the fairies rejected his mother as their queen. But she’d assumed he might live in their forest enclave. Still, having it confirmed that he lived a day’s ride from her unsettled her. He’d seemed worlds away since he’d abandoned her.

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Was he ever trapped?”

Rowan’s brow furrowed.

“I mean, was Larch ever imprisoned by the fairy queen the way Prince Dustan was?”

“No,” Rowan whispered. He clasped his hands together again and the fingers of one rubbed the other. “He was always free to go.”

Her daydreams about “Cedric” returning to her, telling her he’d wanted to be with her all along... They never would have come true. He’d been free the whole time but he hadn’t wanted to see her.

Rowan’s expression had darkened. His lips parted as if he might speak but then closed.

“For a long time I hoped I could see him again.” She ran her finger along her leg, along the seam in her trousers. “It doesn’t matter now. I never want to see him again.”

After a pause, Rowan said, “There’s something more.”

She waited.

He paused to take a deep breath, almost silently but so slowly she knew he was bracing himself to speak. He kept his face down. “When we were boys, I did something that upset the queen. She would have punished me but Larch intervened. I always felt I owed him everything. He took advantage of my gratitude. I did everything he asked, season after season. When the queen ordered him to sire a child for her, I helped him.”

Jane’s insides twisted, and the sandwich she’d eaten on the wagon ride threatened to come back up. She drew deep breaths, trying to stay calm.

“How?”

Rowan’s knuckles were white, with one hand fisted over the other. “Larch was never adept at magic. His lack of skills embarrassed him and he hid it. When he needed to use magic, I’d cover for him.” He licked his lips. “I’m not especially skilled at magic either, but I practiced making potions. Most of the work of making a potion is in the ingredients and method and only a little magic is needed. I could sometimes come up with a potion Larch could use in place of his own magic.”

Dread crawled over Jane, paralyzing her in front of him.

He stayed hunched over but looked up at last. “Larch wasn’t strong enough to cast a love spell, not like the one Dustan used on Rose. He was petrified of failing the queen. And he didn’t think he’d be able to trick a human woman into lying with him, and staying with him, without magic.”

Jane’s head was ringing and her body curled in. Rowan’s forehead crinkled and his lips parted. He didn’t continue and she didn’t want to hear what he would say, but watching the guilt in his eyes was worse.

“Go on,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I made the potion Larch used on you. He put it in a drink he gave you. I’m sorry. I wish I had never helped him.”

Jane hugged herself, unable to think a coherent thought. Larch. His love spell—a potion. He’d given her wine. He’d stolen Elle from her.

She hadn’t wanted a child. She hadn’t been ready and she wasn’t a very capable mother—not like Maryanne, always playing with the lot of them. Jane liked it when Elle occupied herself talking to flowers, and she could have a moment’s peace. And look what had happened—her little girl—kidnapped by a dragon. She was a horrible mother.

But she wouldn’t give up Elle. She had gotten Elle back. And as much as they had suffered being apart, if Rowan hadn’t made that potion, she wouldn’t have Elle.

Rowan sat frozen and silent, but the flare of his nostrils as he breathed gave away his tension. She forced her own breath in and out until she could sit up straighter and focus on him.

“Don’t be sorry for me,” she said. “I wouldn’t change it, not now.”

He stayed rigid but bowed his head. “Do you want to ask me anything?”

After how reticent he’d been all day, offering an open invitation to answer her questions must be difficult for him. She didn’t want to pry into his personal life. But he had walked into hers.

“Why did you come to Woods Rest?” she asked.

“At first I was curious. And I wanted to make amends.”

“Curious about...?”

“About you.” He had come for her. Suddenly Jane was glad he kept his head bowed. “I learned where you lived after Rose came to the caverns,” he continued. “So once the fairies were free to go, I thought maybe if I saw you and Elle, saw that you were happy, I’d feel less guilty for the part I played in deceiving you.”

“And making amends?” she asked.

“I thought if I lived in the village, I could keep an eye on you and Elle and offer help if you needed it. I didn’t want to get close to you, just to be nearby. But I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with a fairy living in the village so I hid what I was.”

“Why now, though? It’s been a whole turn of the seasons since you were freed. Did you honestly happen to show up the day Elle gets kidnapped by a dragon?”

“No. I mean, the dragon was a coincidence, yes. But no, I didn’t just show up.” He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. Jane had uncurled enough to watch him. He exhaled and looked up and into her eyes.

“I came to Woods Rest late last summer. I had enough magical ability to change my face slightly and lighten my hair. I got an apprenticeship... with the chairmaker.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. “But... You...”

He hurried on. “When I met you, I tried to be friendly only because I didn’t want to be rude. But you kept coming by to visit me and I didn’t know how to stop you. It would have been wrong to become friends with you when you didn’t know who I was.” The words rushed out and color rose in his cheeks. “When you asked me to spend time with you, I panicked. It wouldn’t have been right. I was only in Woods Rest to help and I’d been deceiving you. So I left.”

“That was you?” Jane said, her mind struggling to catch up.

“Yes. As was the tinsmith’s apprentice last winter.”

Jane’s mouth fell open.

“I thought I’d do better that time. I made myself appear menacing, and every time I encountered you, I tried to be rude. I thought it was working.”

“It wasn’t his personality I was attracted to,” Jane muttered. “So why did you return again? The tinsmith rescued Elle from the mill pond. And you’ve had two seasons to see that Elle and I are... fine.” She’d planned to say they were happy, but at the last moment it had seemed like Rowan would know she was lying.

Rowan rubbed his hand across his jaw. “I don’t have much magical skill. I have no purpose at the fairy enclave, not like the other fairies. But in Woods Rest I could make a difference. I could play a small role in caring for the children Queen Oleander harmed, even if I played that role without anyone knowing.”

When Jane didn’t reply, he continued. “I had a better plan this time. I was going to tell you I had a sweetheart in another village. That way I could live in Woods Rest without risking feelings developing between us—or between me and any of the other villagers.”

“I’m afraid the early gossip was mostly to do with your appearance,” Jane said, “not your eligibility.”

“I didn’t realize word would get around so fast that a new person was in town. You startled me when you arrived this morning and I forgot my story. I came after you to tell you.”

Jane pushed a strand of hay across the floorboards. He knew she had gone to the smithy to check him out. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“I don’t think that. But I’m sorry if I made things worse for you.”

After a moment, Jane shrugged, remembering the past few seasons and how life had... brightened a little for the first time. “You made life more interesting at least.” She realized where her thoughts were going and her face heated. All those stolen moments in the linen closet after seeing him in the village. That had been Rowan she’d been fantasizing about. She wished she could groan aloud.

And now Rowan was watching her think about how she had fantasized about him. She forced her thoughts to the present. “Well, until the part where I propositioned you and you rejected me.”

Rowan hung his head. “It wasn’t you. Truly.”

He’d been hanging around the village on and off for almost a full turn of the seasons. She tried to recall the two apprentices but remembering their faces was difficult—she kept seeing Rowan’s instead. But she remembered perfectly how the tinsmith’s apprentice had pulled Elle from the pond. And the chairmaker’s apprentice...

“All those holes in your socks?” she said.

Rowan rubbed the back of his neck again. “You said no one needed mending and your savings were running low.”

“We couldn’t imagine how you were wearing them out so fast.” She recalled the past autumn and winter. What else could she remember? “Wait—did you leave a sack of coins by the stone wall in the meadow behind our house?”

He nodded, staring out into the darkness of the stable.

Jane had already embarrassed herself in front of Rowan earlier that day at the smithy. She’d asked him to walk with her, with her intentions—tumbling him in the fields—plastered across her face. To think she’d also propositioned him as the chairmaker and as the tinsmith, the tinsmith who’d been rude to her, was downright mortifying.

And they had a past connection thanks to Larch. Rowan had helped Larch seduce her. The reminder brought the ringing back to her ears and left her breathless again.

This, all of this, definitely counted as odd. Maryanne would want her to return home immediately. Maybe she should go home and let Rowan find Elle on his own. He’d probably travel faster without her. She had no reason to think he’d take Elle and run. Unless he took her to use her for her magical abilities?

But Elle hadn’t yet learned to use her magic. And Rowan snatching someone’s child? After how he’d spoken about Larch just now? Unlikely.

But what if Elle was scared of him? How would Elle know leaving with him was safe if Jane didn’t go too?

Jane shook her head. “I can’t think straight. Can we sleep and talk more in the morning?”

“Yes, of course.”

Rowan uncrossed his legs and reached for his pack. As the contents clinked and shifted, he pulled out a thick blanket. The edges of the blanket sparkled in the dim light. It must be some fairy thing, maybe magical thread to hold it together. Jane found her own blanket and moved a few paces away on the hay, leaving the warm spot where she’d sat. She lay down on her coat and stretched the blanket over herself as Rowan did the same. They both lay on their backs, staring overhead.

A minute later, someone entered the barn with scuffling footsteps. The shadows lurched as the lantern was taken off the hook. The light faded to blackness and the door banged closed.

Jane sighed out the tension in her shoulders, sinking into the hay and willing it to warm up. The day had been warm with sun. But the cold of winter hadn’t completely gone, and a chill draft crept into the stable. Without sunlight to warm them, the boards beneath her held the coolness of the past few moons. Rowan rustled in the hay nearby.

Jane yawned. She couldn’t see a thing so she closed her eyes. She rolled onto her side and pulled her thin blanket tighter. She’d go to sleep and in the morning she’d figure out what to do.

But she couldn’t stop seeing Rowan the way he’d been as he confessed his secrets to her: hunched over as he wrung his hands and apologized. Her thoughts grew muddy as she yawned again.

“I would have fallen for Larch regardless of the potion,” she said into the quiet stable. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t helped him. He’d have been able to trick me regardless.”

Rowan didn’t reply.

Sleep came but not for long. The air grew colder with the night and while her body warmed the hay, her blanket wasn’t enough to warm her top side. She should burrow into the hay but she wasn’t awake enough to make the effort. She rolled over, warming her cold half in the hay as the heat escaped her warm side. Finally it worked and her body was warm all over. With streams of moonlight shining through the cracks of the barn wall, she sank into unbroken sleep.

Jane felt the pale, warm sunlight on her face. She peeked open an eye. Dust motes drifted in the narrow beams shining onto the hay. Jane was so delightfully warm. Across the floor, Rowan’s breathing was steady with sleep.

She could go home and Rowan would find Elle. Doing so seemed like a big commitment from him, regardless of all he’d said about assuaging his guilt and having a purpose. But on the other hand, he really did seem like Elle’s best chance. How many other fairies had a dragon they could visit to ask for directions? Rowan was the best person to do this.

But she didn’t want to go home. What she’d said to Maryanne was true—she’d go mad with waiting if she let Rowan travel on alone. She should be with him when he found Elle in case Elle needed comforting. Besides, how could she make the best decision for Elle without seeing this dragon and where it had taken her?

But could she trust Rowan? Her instincts were telling her yes. He’d admitted to his role in Larch’s deception. He seemed truly sorry. And Rose had told her how all the fairies had been lied to by the old queen. They’d been told humans were barely more intelligent than animals, and that human women didn’t care about their young any more than a housecat did. And they had never spent time with humans to learn any differently. The younger fairies had grown up with those misguided beliefs. No one knew any better until Dustan fell for Rose, realized the truth, and spoke up about it.

But she always trusted people when she shouldn’t.

Well if she shouldn’t trust Rowan, then she shouldn’t trust him with Elle, which meant she should go with him anyway. She stretched and relaxed her body and rolled onto her back. Something warm and smooth rubbed against her chin. Jane reached for it.

Something dark was woven into the threads of the blanket. It was the size of a coin and shiny like the inside of a seashell but black, and when her thumb rubbed over it, it radiated warmth. More of the shiny chips lined the edge of the blanket.

This wasn’t her blanket; hers was underneath it. The top one was Rowan’s.

She caught her breath and listened. He still breathed evenly as if he were sleeping. She leaned slowly up until she could peek at him over her bed of hay. His dark lashes rested on his cheeks, his face exposed but the rest of him buried in the hay. She lay back, glad he’d kept himself warm.

She pulled his blanket up over her chin. And without thinking, she pulled it farther and sniffed it. It smelled comforting like warm clothing and Mouser’s fur. She snuggled beneath it to wait for him to wake.