The next morning, Rowan awoke early and went downstairs to find the duke in the sitting room beside a fresh pot of coffee. He was examining a thick stack of papers, which Rowan realized with some trepidation were her translations.
“Good morning,” she said, bowing.
Startled, he nearly spilled coffee on himself. Putting his things down, he stood to his full height and beamed at her. His smile made her feel quite unusual—as if she were standing directly in the light of the sun, absorbing all the warmth it had to offer.
“Va Rose,” he said, bowing. “What a pleasure it is to see you.”
“I thought you didn’t care for formalities,” she said, grinning up at him.
“I don’t,” he laughed. “But I have been reading over your translations, and I must admit, I am stunned by your abilities. You are gifted, and in the presence of such a gift, I cannot help but use the honorific.”
Hearing such praise, and from someone so respected, Rowan felt herself nearly swelling with pride. “You think they are good?”
“Good?” he said, guiding her to sit across from him. “They are magnificent. You must tell me, what are your plans for your future? Have you ever thought of coming to the palace city? You should really think seriously about visiting my library.”
“I …” Rowan started to speak but was so overwhelmed with the possibility of leaving Nag’s End that she couldn’t find the words.
“I’m sorry. I must sound foolish,” he said, his smile deliciously vibrant. “But please understand. I am so excited by your work. I feel that if I could spend some time with you, and really train you with all the palace city has to offer, that there’d be no end to what you could do. Together we could work wonders. I’m certain of it.”
Rowan could barely believe him, and yet he seemed so genuine, and she wanted so terribly for it to be true. She smiled. “I am proud of my work, but it can’t be more skilled than that of the king’s scholars.”
He looked away for a second, as if trying to decide something, and when he met her eyes again, there was an intimacy there that surprised her. “I have certain projects … certain personal projects that I like to keep separate from the king’s affairs. And these projects, they need a fresh eye, someone whose mind is open and sharp, ready to make connections that wearied minds can’t see.”
Rowan considered. “And my father would work with you as well?”
“Of course,” the duke said, clapping his hands together.
Rowan leaned back in her seat and observed him for a moment, his golden locks and dark green eyes, the slant of his jaw and the slope of his chest, and she thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to work alongside such a man. More importantly, her father could finally fulfill his dream of returning to the palace city.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said, and a beautiful grin spread across his face.
A noise at the door pulled her attention away from him. Emily stood at the entrance, carrying a tray of scones and looking back and forth between her and the duke. Upon noticing Emily’s presence, he pulled himself up to sit straighter, and he lowered his eyes. Rowan thought she could see a faint blush rising in his cheeks.
“Your father’ll be down in a minute,” she said to Rowan, giving her a meaningful look. “Why don’t you come help me in the kitchen?”
Rowan, suddenly flustered, stood and followed Emily out just as her father, anxiously shuffling papers, bustled into the room, barely acknowledging her as they passed.
When she reached the kitchen and the door had swung shut behind them, Emily set down her tray and grabbed Rowan by the shoulders.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered crossly.
“What do you mean?” Rowan asked, trying to hide her embarrassment.
“I saw you two in there making eyes at each other. What are you playing at, Rowan? That man is the queen’s brother.”
“So?” Rowan wrenched herself away from Emily’s grip. “He’s a good man.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about him. Stay away from him, Ro. He’s dangerous.”
Rowan laughed. “Now, Emily, you don’t know that.”
“I do,” Emily said, standing up tall. “They’re all of them dangerous, that lot with their sea god and their riches. He’s a member of the royal family, Ro. You don’t want to mess with those people.”
“I’m not messing with anyone. He was just asking if I might like to come and work there for a bit. He wants me to work on some translations.”
“Translations, eh?” Emily said, and putting a hand on her hip and thrusting out her jaw, she gave Rowan a look that could have withered an elder. Then she turned her attention to the sink.
Feeling strangely guilty but deliciously giddy, Rowan turned and left the room. She was set to meet Tom that morning, and she figured she’d better be on her way. As she walked by the sitting room, she caught sight of the duke again and smiled at him before she left. She couldn’t help notice his eyes following her as she went.
Rowan found Tom inside the tavern, wiping down the bar. He still wore his grief, but she was pleased to see that the color was beginning to return to his cheeks. The work, it seemed, really was doing him good.
“Hello, you,” he said.
“Are you ready for our walk?” Rowan asked.
“Nearly,” he said, and then, after really looking at her, he squinted. “Are you sure you’re okay going into the woods? I don’t want to put you in any kind of danger.”
Rowan’s mind flashed to the way Jude had left her on the path back from the cimetière the previous evening, and she wondered what would happen if she told Tom. She knew he would probably beat his boorish brother to a pulp, and for a moment, she considered instigating just that, but then she shook herself from her musing.
“It’s daytime, and we can bring along a weapon if you like. It’s just through the woods a way to Seelie Lake. We’ve done this walk more times than I can count. I think we’ll be fine,” she said, leaning into the bar. “But what about you, Tom? Are you okay after … after everything that happened? If anyone has a right to be frightened of the woods, it’s you.”
He sighed. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?” he said, setting down his rag. “I am afraid of them, and I don’t want to be. Those woods are part of my life. I can’t go on hiding from them.”
“I’ll be there with you,” she said, her heart breaking to see him so distraught.
Smiling at her, as if he were slowly filling back up with life, he nodded. “Let’s go.”
The walk out was pleasant, and though steel-gray clouds lined the sky, the day wasn’t very cold, and it seemed to Tom that the forest was especially alive. Northern squirrels scuttled alongside them, and deer crossed their path more than once. Birds followed them, their song breaking the stillness of the air and reminding Tom that the forest at its heart was a beautiful place—his place.