Rowan didn’t need it. In a burst of movement, he lunged forward and tore through the vines. He stood, lifting Briar, moss falling away from them. Vatii clung to the hood of Briar’s cloak, flapping as he rushed to pull out a handful of stolen bone powder.
The forest said,He’s ours. Promised. We will have him. We need him.
Briar had never made a portal before, but in the grips of fear and the drive to survive, he did not lack the intent needed to find his last drops of magic.
“Take me home,” he shouted as he flung the powder.
The portal opened, and they fell through.
All the quiet noises of the forest had coalesced to deafening—the hiss of wind, the drone of flies, the rustle of foliage. The portal closed, and it was silent.
It took a moment for Briar to realize where they were. In the dark, he struggled to make out the hand-painted wooden furniture. Rowan’s cottage.
They made their way to the sofa, no longer sure who held up who. Briar shrugged his shoulders until Rowan collapsed onto it, clutching his chest where the root had sprouted. It left no deep, gory wound, only a red mark on the spot where his scar began, but it pained him. His eyes closed, face drawn.
Though Briar badly wanted to collapse too, neither he nor Rowan had the energy to withstand another encounter like that one. He went through the back door into Éibhear’s garden. Vatii helped him collect the plants he needed. He found clean cloths in the kitchen and wet them. He boiled water and made tea using some of the plants, adding cold water to the brew so they could drink it right away. When he brought these back, Rowan opened his eyes.
“C’mere and rest,” he croaked.
“I will now in a minute,” Briar said, not realizing until the flicker of a smile on Rowan’s face what he had said. It was a phrase he’d picked up in Coill Darragh. He knelt on the floor and pressed one of the cool cloths to Rowan’s forehead; the other he used to mop the wheals and specks of blood. In the back of his throat, Rowan made a tiny noise of relief.
Against his better judgment, Briar reached up and carded a hand through Rowan’s sweaty hair, combing out dead leaves and twigs. Rowan leaned in to his touch and made that same, small noise again.
Briar said, “That was really close.”
“Bit too close,” Rowan said. “Thank you. For coming to my rescue.”
“Didn’t make thisjustto look pretty.” He flicked the necklace.
“Hm. Rather not go through that again.” He looked ashamed. “Was feckin’ terrified.”
“You were brave,” Briar told him.
“You make me brave.” He gazed at Briar steadily as he said it. Briar’s heart could have burst. There was no mistaking the swell of affection burgeoning within him. In hindsight, the idea that leaving Coill Darragh would mean leaving these feelings behind seemed asinine. They felt as intrinsically a part of him as Vatii, or his tithes, or his own name.
He said, “Can you sit up?”
Wincing, Rowan managed to, accepting the mug of tea and taking a sip. Briar drank his too. It soaked into his bones, both vigorous and soothing. It would help them sleep and restore some of their drained energy, but it was no substitute for the milk thistle elixir. He’d have to pick some up from the apothecary, since Linden was away.
“Thought we found the reason the forest was acting the maggot,” Rowan muttered. “And here we are again.”
“There were more craters like the one Kenneth made,” Briar said. “They didn’t seem old.”
Rowan rubbed his head. “So we’re back to where we started.”
Briar didn’t think so. Something had shifted. They’d gone into the forest before, and it hadn’t attacked them. He sighed. “I’m taking the ferry to Pentawynn tomorrow. When I’m back, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Rowan’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”
“Only for a little while, then—”
“He’s going to ask you to marry him. Isn’t he?”
Briar flinched. “Rowan…”
“Do you think he’ll let you come back that easy, like?”
“Let me?”
