Briar despaired. He could use a flesh tithe to wake Rowan, but his arms and legs were both encased in vines. Rowan would only be able to struggle, and he would be conscious while the forest consumed him.
Briar thought about what Éibhear had told him, and wished the only option open to him wasn’t so dire. But he had so little life left. What better way to use it?
With Niamh’s charcoal in hand, he undid the buttons of his shirt to draw on himself.
“No, Briar!” Vatii cawed. She snapped at the charcoal in his fist.
“What good are we dead in a few months’ time?”
She clawed the charcoal away before he finished the circle on his chest. He swore, leaning down to look for it in the grasping mulch. He couldn’t find it, but the vines and thorns had cut him enough times. He used the blood in place of charcoal.
Ours…whispered the forest.
“I will be.” He finished drawing and grasped the vines around Rowan. “Release him and take me instead.”
The vines ceased to grow. The forest went still, considering his offer. The wind caressed his bare skin, a susurration through the leaves like a chorus of voices.
Without warning, several roots around Rowan drew back and lashed around Briar with flagellating speed. A howl of pain escaped him, cut short when he impacted against Rowan’s chest. The limbs of the forest bound them together with crushing force. Briar struggled to draw a full breath.
No, he thought, pain stealing his voice.This wasn’t the deal.
Too weak. No time left. Cursed. Ours anyway. An unfair trade.The forest’s answer chilled him through.We will have both.
He struggled. Vatii flapped and clawed at the vines, to no effect. Choking and ensnared, the last guttering candle of hope in Briar’s heart went dark. Rowan’s forehead lolled against his shoulder, but he didn’t wake no matter how many times Briar screamed his name. Locked in this last embrace, the unfairness of it all struck him.
Rowan had given Briar so many things. Simple gifts of fresh-baked pastry, help with tithes and spells. He’d invited Briar into his life, shared his family, his meals, his home. He’d opened his heart. If there was magicin gifts, as the forest claimed, then Rowan had been an incantation all his own. It seemed the most brutal of injustices that Briar couldn’t give anything back. There wasn’t a spell he knew to break the forest’s curse, he couldn’t even give his life—it was of that little value.
He hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Rowan…
“Vatii!”
“I’m trying, Briar, there’s too many—”
“Never mind the vines. Come here. I need you to draw a rune on me. Use your beak. I can’t use my hands.”
“What? What rune?” She fluttered to his shoulder, dodging ivy. Briar described what he needed. “But what will waking Rowan do?” she protested.
“Trust me, please.”
She had to smear her beak with his blood and avoid the grasping fingers of the forest, but she managed to draw a mark on his neck of a closed eye half opening. Briar let the magic flow through him. The energy Niamh had bestowed on him went out like the tide, stealing his vitality with it. If not for the vines, he couldn’t have held himself upright. Rowan barely stirred, and for a moment Briar feared it hadn’t been enough, or that Vatii’s messy writing had skewed the spell. Then Rowan moved. Bound so tightly together, Briar felt Rowan’s heartbeat speed. His eyelashes fluttered against Briar’s shoulder.
Then he snapped awake, and a look of horrified betrayal overtook his face. “Briar?”
“I need you to listen to me.”
Angry panic tinged Rowan’s voice. “Briar, what are youdoinghere?”
“I came to tell you something.”
Rowan began struggling, trying to rend free of the vines. He did a better job of it than Briar, loosening them enough that Briar could get his arms up and hold Rowan’s face in his hands.
“Listen to me!”
Rowan ceased struggling.
“This is important. Remember what I said to you? On the pier?”
Rowan flinched, his eyes shutting. “Briar—”
