“Sorry. Too bold?”
“No, not at all, I’m flattered.” He took a step closer, the proximity bringing with it the scent of sandalwood and cauldron fire. The blue of his eyes looked darker, more contemplative, as his hand touched Briar’s cheek. A flutter of cold went through him. Not butterflies, but a nervy fear. Fear of breaking away and of leaning closer, because the nameRowantangled his heart in complicated knots. So he remained still. His breath fell against Linden’s bare wrist. He saw Linden’s slight shiver, barely disguised, and then his flash of self-reproach as he broke away.
“I’m sorry, Briar. My parents…” He looked askance at their empty glasses.They wouldn’t approve.It went unsaid. “Perhaps, for the sake of professionalism, it’s best we remain friends.”
A queer combination of relief and uncertainty overcame Briar. That Linden’s parents wouldn’t approve failed to surprise him, but it seemed strange that Linden caved to their pressure. He didn’t strike Briar as obsequious in nature. Beyond that, he’d thought for certain Linden was the man from Niamh’s vision. He matched the description exactly: cool, enigmatic, difficult to know. His cure, if he ever found it, could save Briar’s life.
Yet, Briar was relieved. “Of course,” he heard himself say.
“Thank you for understanding.”
Linden fastened his cape and took a pinch of gray dust—powder ground from bat bones—from a pouch at his belt. He tossed this in the air to open a second portal, the icy decor of his flat sparkling beyond. He stepped through and, on the other side, turned.
“Ah, before I go, be sure to leave through the kitchen, won’t you? Best not give the press anything to gossip about.”
At Briar’s mute nod, the portal shut, and he was left alone.
He went through the remaining portal into the kitchen, and it dispelled behind him. As he made to leave, Aisling mimed a zip over her lips. Something about the way she averted her gaze… Briar knew Linden had already insisted upon her discretion.
It stung like a papercut, forgotten about until you squeezed a lemon.
Linden’s preoccupation with privacy reminded him of Celyn’s reluctance to be associated with him. It wasn’t the same; Linden’s celebrity status attracted cruel rumors, and this had nothing to do with Briar and everything to do with the disapproval of Linden’s parents. Otherwise, Linden wouldn’t have entered a business partnership with him.
Despite his hurt, Briar had to admit the dominant emotion he felt was relief.
“I can keep seeing Rowan,” he said to Vatii as they left the Swan and Cygnet.
“I thought you’d be more excited that you have an ongoing collaboration with your childhood idol,” Vatii said.
“Well… that too.” But that required a lot of work, and Briar already had so much to do.
These thoughts fled his mind at the sound of a scream splitting the night.
It silenced the pubgoers who’d spilled into the street. More screams followed. A center of pandemonium separated the crowd, people backing away from a crooked figure on the ground.
The power of the forest pulsed in the air, in the burn of the mark on Briar’s arm. Dread curled in his heart.
Maebh appeared, pushing through the crowd. She crouched next to the figure, who shook fiercely while holding her arm. Briar’s stomach turned.
The arm was desiccated, ending in a nearly mummified and unmoving hand. And through it, sunk beneath flesh, twisting up over her limb, was a dark, thorny vine.
CHAPTER 15
Maebh looked up and spotted Briar. “Get Rowan,” she said.
Briar, glad to look away from the horror of the woman’s arm, ran into the night.
The high street through the center of town was the fastest route to Rowan’s cottage, but Briar didn’t have to go that far to find him.
He stood speaking to Sorcha outside her shop with a paper bag in his hand.
Sorcha saw Briar first, waving to him. Rowan turned and started to smile, but he must have seen the fear in Briar’s face because the smile extinguished.
“What happened?”
“The forest. I think it attacked someone.”
Back at the Swan and Cygnet, the patrons had dispersed. Linden’s conjured curtains had vanished, leaving the pub cavernous and empty except for Maebh and the other woman, seated together. The woman had her arm across the table, the vine still carving its way through the gray limb, more alive than the flesh from which it had sprung. Rowan beheld it and went pale.
