“And the Widowsbloom,” I say, my heart racing. “You’ve had it just as long, haven’t you?”
“As far as I know,” he says. “Why?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “Sam would always ramble on about how there were certain plants. They’d wait for all other plants to die, then they’d come to life. I honestly would barely listen to him about it. I was never interested but — Sam, you genius.”
Rowan watches me closely now. “Why would a plant wait for fire?”
“Because it doesn’t have to fight,” I say. “No competition for light, or water, or soil space. It waits for death, and then it blooms,” I say, my mind reeling.
“Rowan,” I whisper, "Its name is literally the answer I’ve been searching for. It blooms after death. Widowsbloom.” He looks at me, confusion giving way to something like awe. “There’s one problem. We don’t have fire. It’s impossible.”
“There has to be a way?”
“We have runes to prevent fire, Elodie. No one has seen a true flame in centuries.” Rowan stares at me, his breakfast forgotten. The logic was undeniable, but the implications were terrifying. To bring fire back to a land that had systematically erased it.
This wasn’t just some gardening experiment.
It would be treason.
I let out a frustrated breath.
“I know, but Rowan, I really feel like this is right.”
“I believe you,” he says simply. “And I might know someone who can help.”
“Who?”
“Bryn.”
The ride to Mara’s is a complete blur. Between me asking questions and Rowan telling me what he knows of ‘the great fire’, somehow we end up outside the cottage. The chimney emits a single whisper of smoke.
They’re awake.
I jump off the horse, Rowan’s hand finding my waist, even though I’m perfectly capable of getting off myself now.
“This won’t go down well with Mara, I’ll do the talking,” he says, but before I can ask what he means by that, Mara is standing at the door, a shawl wrapped round her body with a steaming mug in hand. We walk towards her, Rowan’s hand finding the small of my back as we approach the door. She looks at Rowan’s hand and then meets my eyes with a knowing smile. Whatever she’s thinking, she doesn’t voice it. Instead, stepping aside to let us enter the warmth of her home.
“I don’t think I’ve had this many visits from you since you were a boy in training, Rowan,” Mara says, entering the kitchen behind us.
“Well, whilst I’d love to tell you it’s because we just can’t resist your breakfast loaf, it’s unfortunately something you will not like,” Rowan says, taking a seat at the table. I follow his lead, taking the seat next to him. I’m not sure about anything he’s about to ask. This is not my place to intervene.
“Go on.” Mara says, resting her arm on the chair. “We need Bryn.” Rowan mutters carefully.
“No!” Mara shouts. “I know what you’re going to say, Rowan. I will not have you bringing that into this house,” she says.
“Mara, if there were another option, you know I wouldn’t be asking this. I know the risk.”
“She’s my daughter, Rowan.” Before he can argue any further, Bryn’s footsteps sound behind us as she slowly enters, her hair loose and eyes wide with a shimmering intensity.
“What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes finding mine. Mara and Rowan are locked in a stare-down, waiting for the other to speak. Rowan speaks first.
“We may have found the way to get the Widowsbloom to grow,” he says to the room. “It needs fire.”
“Absolutely not!” Mara shouts, her voice firmer than I’ve ever heard from her. “You know the law. It would be a death sentence to revoke that rune. The Aethelguard has been in place for centuries — why would you even speak of overturning such power?”
“Mara, if it works, I can bring Kael back. The kingdom would no longer be cut off. It would save everything,” he says. Mara’s mouth clamps shut at the sound of Kael’s name.
“I can do it,” Bryn speaks up, stepping beside her mother.
