Rowan locked eyes with Folen so she would know that he was serious. There wasn’t even a question nor doubt in his mind about it. What she was offering him was a way out. A way that didn’t involve actual death. How could he say no to that. “I’m sure.” Rowan told her. “This is what I want. If I have to marry him, I won’t survive. I’m barely surviving now.” He chuckled bitterly. “I want so much more than I can ever have here or with Lord Killian. Being hidden away here in the palace is choking the life out of me. I was never meant to be caged and that’s what this place is. It’s one big, gilded, cage and I need to escape it.”
Folen gave his hand a loving pat and she nodded slowly, tears in her eyes. She knew what he was saying was true. Rowan was like a beautiful, but rare flower, blooming against all odds in a garden of weeds. Such a flower could survive, for a while, but soon it would become over shadowed by the wild flora surrounding it, and it would wilt, starved of light and nourishment, and eventually die.
Rowan was beginning to wilt now. She could see the light leaving his eyes. Those once bright, and vibrant, emerald eyes were now dull and listless. He was withering away in this place, growing weaker as the life drained out of him. He wouldn’t last much longer. He needed room to grow, wild and free, and she knew, he would never get that here. The palace, King Desmond, and Lord Killian. Those were the real poison. They had seeped in, under his skin, into his blood, and were slowly poisoning his heart. But the seedling in his hand, that was the cure. She just hoped he was yet strong enough to allow it to take root and set him free.
“I’ll draw ya a hot bath.” She told him. “I’ll wash yer hair for ya. Then, we’ll get ya dressed in yer night clothes. Once yer in yer bed, crack the shell and remove the seed. Put it in yer mouth and swallow it down with a glass of rose water.”
“W-what will happen to me?” He asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
“Ye will drift off into the most peaceful sleep ya have e’er known. To those around ya, it will appear as tho death has taken ya. Tis only a false death though as ye shall be locked in a death like slumber. Three nights shall ye sleep. Then, on the forth night, I’ll come to yer place of internment, and administer the antidote. From there, ye will leave this place and ne’er return. Start yer life anew. Yer tomb be sealed again and none here shall be the wiser.”
“And what of you?” Rowan asked suddenly. “What will become of you, once I am gone?”
Folen smiled warmly at him and shook her head. “Ya need not be worried for me, child. I’ve managed for hundreds of years and will continue to do so.”
“But why stay?” He asked, confused. “Surly there’s nothing keeping you here. Use your magic, escape this place with me. Together we can…”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Nay, child. I’ll not be leaven. My place is here.”
“But why? What is keeping you here?”
“I have me reasons.” She told him. He started to protest again but she placed a finger to his lips to silence him. Rowan kissed her fingers as tears sprang to his eyes.
“I don’t want to leave you behind.” He cried against her tender hand. “You’ve been more than a servant to me. You’ve been like a mother. I fear what will happen to you, what the King will do to you. The vampire Kingdom is not kind to Fae, if that is what you are, as I suspect.”
“Now, none of that, young man.” She brushed his hair back and smiled, looking into his eyes so full of pain and regret. “Ye too have been like a son to me and I cherish ya. I’ll never leave ya. Never. I’ll always exist in here.” She touched her hand over his heart. “Keep me here, love, and I’ll always be with ya.” She stood and looked down, smiling a wan smile. “Now, dry yer eyes, love and I’ll go prepare yer bath.”
Before Rowan could protest further, Folen left the room. Rowan opened his hand and looked at the small seed laying on his opened palm. This…this tiny thing. So insignificant looking, was his key to freedom. He’d be lying if he claimed to not be scared but epic songs and poetry were never written about cowards, and he’d be dammed if he were going to allow something as inconsequential as fear keep him from his destiny. Tonight he would deliver himself into the icy claws of death and in four days time, he would rise from his own death as a phoenix rises from it’s own ashes. Then, and only then, will his life truly begin.