The Glass Casket (18 page)

She took a step back, and uncovering his eyes, he sank to his knees before her in the snow. When he opened his hand to reveal a thin strip of red twine, she shook her head, certain it couldn’t be for her.

“Rowan,” he said. “I want you to be my bride.” With those words, he took her left wrist, the wrist that led to her heart, and tied the twine around it with gentle fingers.

She stared down at the red twine with horror. With one simple action, Tom had just destroyed any chance she might have of being a scholar. Wives could not be scholars. Wives could not travel at their leisure, nor could they study in the libraries of the palace city. From now on, she would go where Tom went and help him with whatever it was he chose to do, which Rowan knew meant a life spent at the inn with Elsbet barking orders at her and drunken oafs puking
on her boots. And what was worse, she was now bound to a boy who would never love her, could never love her—not how she wanted to be loved—because his heart would always belong to another.

He looked up at her with a broad smile, and yet his eyes were completely lifeless—empty, even—and she realized she needed to try to smile. She loved Tom. He was her best friend, and when she had thought she might lose him, she’d realized that her feelings ran deeper, but marriage was something she couldn’t consider.

And what of the boy who had cried love at first sight? Where was he? Fiona Eira’s body was barely cold, and here he was tying a nuptial band round Rowan’s wrist. She gazed down at the scarlet twine, bold against her pale skin, and she realized that she was nothing but a consolation prize. He had done what his mother wanted. He had chosen with his head instead of his heart because his heart had been ripped from him the moment Fiona Eira’s had been ripped from her chest.

She felt the warmth of tears flowing down her cheeks, felt the sting as they glided past the cut on her lip, and Tom smiled up at her, and mistaking her grief for joy, he took both her hands in his. If it had been in her power to refuse, she would have done so. She no more wanted this for him than she did for herself. But he already had her family nuptial band. Her father had given consent, and she had no choice in the matter. She bit down on her lip to staunch the flow of tears as she wondered how her father could have done this without talking to her first.

Laughing now, crying too, Tom stood and took her face in his hands.

“I will take care of you,” he said, and then leaning forward like he might topple over at any moment, he placed his cold mouth against hers. Politely, she met him with ruby lips, her heart breaking, and then she pulled back and nodded.

“I have to get home,” she said, and he looked confused.

“Now?” he asked. “Don’t you want to celebrate? My mother is eager to see you.”

She held a hand to her stomach. “I feel unwell. I need to go home. Later … later we will celebrate.” And with that, she turned and started off onto the forest path.

“Ro,” he called after her, his voice anxious. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She turned and smiled at him. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll speak later.”

He nodded, and she held his gaze for a moment, and then headed out. When she knew she was hidden from sight, she veered from the path and delved deeper into the trees, the sky spinning above her, the crows circling as if waiting for her to trip and fall and split open her head. When she was certain no one would come upon her, she knelt on the ground and wept. She wept until she thought she might vomit. She wept until she thought there was nothing left inside her anymore. She wept for the girl she once was and for the girl she would never be, and inside her a rage began to burn.

When she had calmed herself, she wiped away the tears and walked home. As she approached her house, she could
see that her father’s light was burning in his study. Once inside, she didn’t call out for Emily, as was her custom, but rather went straight to her father’s office. She didn’t bother knocking. She threw open his door, and he flinched, quickly closing the heavy leather book he was consulting, and stuffing a second—a thin black book—into his drawer.

“Rowan,” he said, clearly unsettled by her presence. “What is it, child?”

She thrust out her wrist to him, displaying the red band that now yoked her forever and always to Tom.

“Ah, then.” He smiled. “He’s told you. What a joyous night. I’ll have Emily fix something special.”

Rowan stood aghast. “How could you?”

Henry Rose shook his head, appearing to be genuinely surprised. “You’re not pleased?”

“You expected me to be pleased?” she asked, unable to keep the anger from her voice.

“Of course I did, my child. I would never want for you to be unhappy. It’s been apparent for some time that you have feelings for the boy. When he came to me, my suspicions were confirmed. He’ll make a good and faithful husband.”

“He’s mad with grief. He was in love with Fiona Eira. He doesn’t love me.”

“He will grow to love you. It is now his duty.”

“I don’t want loving me to be someone’s duty,” Rowan cried, tears threatening to flow. “I don’t want to be someone’s second choice, and I don’t want to live my whole life in Nag’s End. I want to be a scholar. Please, Father, you have to call it off.”

He looked to the window and shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said.

“Please, Father,” she begged, desperation breaking her voice. “I can’t do this. I’m meant to be a scholar. Please don’t take that away from me. I can’t marry Tom. I don’t want to.”

“Silly child, you’re in love with the boy,” he said, averting his eyes. “And times are dark. You need a husband to keep you safe. It’s for your own good.”

“Have you lost your mind?” she screamed, her world no longer making any sense. “We were going to go to the palace city with the duke—you and I. What of that?”

“You will not be going to the palace city with the duke or with anyone else. You will be staying in Nag’s End with your husband,” he said, looking down at his papers. “This is the best path for you, Daughter. I will not discuss it further. This is my final decision.”

Rowan blinked and tried to focus on the ground, solid beneath her feet. Surely she must be dreaming, but she knew she wasn’t. Her father was really saying these things to her. And all at once, she saw herself as her father must see her, as Tom must see her—weak, small, and useless. Beautiful in some fragile way, but what good was beauty? It had done Fiona Eira no favors.

She felt trapped, as if she might suffocate. But something else swelled in her chest, something hot and burning, similar to the anger she’d felt earlier but more intense. It was sharp and spiked, and pointed directly at her father, and she knew without a doubt that she hated him. Hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone. More even than she
hated the Goddess for taking her mother from her all those years ago.

She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I understand.”

“Good,” her father said, then stood and, walking around the desk to her, hugged her close to his chest as he had done a thousand times before, and she was astonished at how something that used to feel so warm and human could suddenly feel so dead.

She turned from him, and doing her best to keep from breaking down, she opened the door, the coldness of the metal knob like a knife against her skin. When she stepped out into the hallway, she was stunned to find Merrilee standing there, leaning against the wall, her tiny navy dress blending into the darkness. Had she been listening? The girl smiled at her, then turned and raced up the back stairs.

Tom tried to put his misgivings behind him as he approached the inn. Surely he was imagining things. Surely Rowan wanted to be his wife. There was no one who knew him better, no one who loved him more. So why had she reacted as if he’d proposed a double suicide?

He burst into the inn and found his mother setting up for the supper crowd.

“Hello, my boy,” she called, looking up from her washcloth.

Jude sat in the corner, a piece of paper before him. He seemed to be puzzling something out. He glanced at his
brother, and then folding up the paper, he put it in his pocket.

“Hey now,” Jude said. “You look well for once.”

Elsbet smiled at her youngest son. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?” she squeaked.

“I have,” Tom said, ebullient. “Just now. I’m to be married.”

Jude stared at him, stunned.

“My brother,” Tom said, hands on the table in front of Jude. “I’ve taken a bride.”

“What?” Jude laughed. “Who? I thought you were … excuse me here, but I thought you were in love with Fiona Eira. I thought you said no other girl was fit to touch the hem of her garment.”

Tom drew back, seeing Fiona’s smiling face in front of his once again, smelling her breath on his neck, and then, as quickly as the vision had come, it was replaced with the image of her splayed out like meat in the slickening snow.

“Jude,” Elsbet spat. “Show some respect for the dead. And for the living.”

She moved closer to Tom and gave Jude a self-satisfied smile. “I’m going to have a daughter finally. I’d hoped you might be a girl, Jude, you know.”

“So who is she?” Jude asked, beginning to warm to the idea of a sister-in-law taking the brunt of his mother’s wrath.

“Why, our own Rowan, isn’t it?” Elsbet said. Jude froze, and Tom noticed his brother’s face grow pale. “You’re joking,” Jude said.

“Not a bit,” Elsbet chirped. “Tom’s finally seen the light. Seen what was right in front of him.”

Jude shook his head, anger slowly distorting his features. “Crow’s eyes if I’ve ever heard such a thing,” he seethed, his gaze boring into his brother.

“Jude!” Elsbet yelped. “I’ll not have language like that in my inn. I’ve thrown men out on their ear for less.”

Tom stared at his brother, his defensiveness piqued. “Do you have something you want to say, Jude?”

But his brother just glared at him.

“If you have something you want to say, by all means, say it,” Tom urged.

Jude opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words flowed. He simply shook his head and stared at his brother with a hatred that seemed to reach into Tom’s very being.

“You don’t like Rowan, is that it?” Tom said.

“You know I don’t,” Jude said, looking away.

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to her. She’ll be moving in with us in two months’ time. Soon she will bear my children.”

And with that, a color rose in Jude’s cheeks. “It must be very convenient for you to be able to change your heart so readily.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” Tom said, looking away. “Rowan has long been my closest friend, and she’ll soon make an honorable wife. That is the most I can ask for.”

“And I suppose you’re the most she can ask for?” Jude said through gritted teeth.

“Jude,” Elsbet snarled. “You watch it, boy.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” Jude said, his eyes trained on his brother, and Tom saw that every muscle in Jude’s neck was taut. He looked feral, like an animal waiting to tear flesh from bone.

“That’s enough!” Tom yelled. “You will show respect to me and to my bride-to-be, or so help me …”

“So help you what?”

“You may be older, but I’m bigger than you, Jude, and I’m not afraid of you.”

Tom moved closer, confident in his ability to hold physical master over his brother, but when he was within a few steps of him, Jude suddenly stood and, in one quick and terrifying movement, flipped the old oak table over, missing Tom’s leg by inches. Elsbet screamed as Jude pulled himself up to his full height, and though he was slight of build, his rage seemed to lay claim to the whole room.

The two boys stared at each other, the animal within each pushed to its extreme—Tom ready to physically harm his brother, and Jude seemingly poised to kill.

Elsbet’s hands flew to her face, and she backed away in horror from what she had created.

The moment hung like the blade of a guillotine, ready to drop with startling finality.

And then Jude stepped away. Tom relaxed his shoulders, and Jude turned and walked to the back door as if nothing had happened. Tom and Elsbet exchanged a look, the same one they’d been exchanging for years, as if to ask what they had done to deserve such a relation. But just as Jude was about to step outside, he turned back and stared at his brother.

“I just want you to know. I’ll kill you before I let you marry her.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him with a heavy clash of wood against steel.