Lakesedge (World at the Lake's Edge #1)(21)

“Rowan.” I whisper his name, a sharp, hurt sound.

His head snaps up. Our eyes meet. His skin is veined with dark all along the sides of his neck. The thornlike scars that wreathe his throat stand out, angry and raised. His eyes are crimson, bloodshot, his pupils huge and black.

This is the darkness I glimpsed when I first saw him. The shadows that limned his edges, always just out of reach. Now it’s here, laid bare. I watch as he changes, as his gaze turns cold, as he is overtaken by feral, cruel hunger.

He stares at me, unblinking.

“Violeta.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. His voice is like the hiss of the waves against the shore. “Violeta, get away from here right now.”

I let the whole world close down. I shut out the sound of the lake. The feel of the ground as it trembles. Clover’s voice, frightened and urgent. I let it all fade away until there’s only Arien’s hand in mine—our skin gritted with mud, his fingers gone cold. I get to my feet. He moves like a sleepwalker as he follows me.

When we reach the place where the forest thins to the narrow garden, we almost collide with Florence, who is coming down from the house. I shove past her. She calls out to us, but I don’t stop. I don’t turn.

I grip Arien’s hand tight, and I start to run.





Chapter Seven


Hand in hand, with the silent trees around us, it’s like we’re in the woods near the wayside again. Now that I know the truth, I wish I’d never turned back that night. When the wolf wounded Rowan, I should have left him there on his knees, taken Arien, and run far, far away.

I drag Arien into the overgrown, weed-tangled garden at the front of the house. I slump back against the wall, trying to catch my breath, as a plan takes shape in my mind. We’ll run along the drive to where the arched iron gateway opens onto a road. If we follow it for long enough, we’ll find the village we passed on the way here.

“We have to leave,” I tell Arien.

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks at me sadly, then rolls back his sleeve. On his wrist is a fresh, raised mark, made of delicate lines, just like the sigils I saw on Clover’s arms. He closes his fingers around it. “We can’t. I can’t. There’s nowhere else for me to go.”

“Arien.” My voice wavers. “Arien, no.”

“You saw it, Leta. You saw me.” He gives me a desperate look. The black in his eyes has faded to silver, but his fingers are still dark. “All those nights, all those times that Mother said she needed to fix me. She hurt me. She hurt you. And I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t do anything. But now I can. I want to stay. I want to learn how to use my magic. Clover’s going to teach me.”

“So this is the help Rowan promised.” Anger laces my mouth with a taste more bitter than the virulent tea. “Clover will teach you alchemy, and in return all you have to do is risk your life. You saw what the Corruption did to Rowan.” A fresh horror fills me when I picture his bloodied eyes, the way he sat so still and unresisting as the earth crept over him. “What if that had been you?”

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous. At least here no one is afraid of me.” Arien looks away quickly, his cheeks flushed. It hangs between us, unspoken. No one is afraid of me here—except for you.

I didn’t want him to know how I truly felt, but he did. Of course he did. And now he’s come to a monster who will give him what I couldn’t. Who looked on his shadows—his magic—and was never afraid.

The tears I held back before spill loose. “All I wanted was to keep you safe.”

Arien puts his hand on my arm. He’s about to speak when a sound cuts through the dark from behind the house. I tiptoe closer, staying near the wall, and watch Rowan make his way back inside. Florence is helping him, her arm around his waist. His head is down, his face hidden by his hair.

After they pass, there’s a dark trail of blood left behind, dripped across the stones.

Clover follows them wearily, carrying the lantern. She’s covered with mud. It’s in the end of her braid, on her glasses, on her face. She looks up and notices me; I hear her murmur to the others, urging them ahead.

She skirts around the side of the house and comes toward us. She touches Arien’s cheek, giving him a worried look. “Please, don’t run away.”

He smiles at her weakly. “We’re not running.”

I step between them. “Ash damn it, Arien. How can you act like Rowan gave you a choice in this, when he hunted you down—when he threatened you?”

“Violeta, it’s not how it looks.” Clover tugs at her braid, tangling it around her muddy fingers. “The ritual wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“Which part, exactly, wasn’t supposed to happen? When the ground tore open, or when the Monster of Lakesedge cut himself to feed that thing?” I hiss out a sigh between my teeth. “I want to know what’s going on. I want to know the truth.”

“It’s not so easy to explain.”

“You’re complicit in helping someone who murdered his family. You forced my brother to work dark magic. Is that a good start?”

Arien glares at me. “Leta. It’s not her fault.”

I kick at the ground, annoyed, knowing I should apologize. But even though Arien is right, and what just happened wasn’t truly Clover’s fault, I’m still angry. With her, with everyone. “Can you at least try to tell me what you’re doing here?”