Rowan felt immediately enchanted by Darlanta for various reasons. Not only was she a strikingly beautiful woman (okay, so they were all strikingly beautiful in his eyes), but she was also a druidess. The fact that she shared the same occupation as his sister may have dampened his attraction to her, but it in no way lessened his admiration.
He accepted the flower from her with a polite bow, hoping he wasn’t gawking too noticeably. Did she just call him an otherworldly elf? And apparently not the first! A feeling of extreme excitement began bubbling up inside him, and he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope that he might soon see his own home again.
Before he could hurry after her—and he truly was so excited that he didn’t even worry about looking like an anxious schoolboy in front of a beautiful woman—something happened to completely and utterly distract him from his current train of thought.
Soran broke up with him. Just like that, too: no warning, no excuses, just a flat-out, in-your-face, kind of announcement. The fact that he himself had done the same to countless other lovers didn’t make it hurt any less, either. He, Rowan Silvertree, had just been dumped! By a seventeen-year-old boy, at that! A seventeen-year-old boy who was so obviously this close to falling in love with him that he’d clearly decided to break it off before either of them got too seriously hurt by Rowan’s own callous behavior as a lover.
“Oh, fuck me!” he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth in anger at himself. Could he have been any more obvious about his own shaky feelings after their agreement last night? It was too soon, too soon to go about making a commitment to Soran no matter how he felt about him, but he’d done it because he knew it would make the boy happy.
“And this is my just reward,” he muttered under his breath. He felt momentarily at a loss as to what to do. His pride and fear of real relationships commanded him to put the matter out of his head for now, but something else inside him tugged at his guilty conscience, and even at his heart. It was always difficult to admit that he’d fallen yet again for one of his lovers. Sometimes, as with Tia, he had yet to even get to such a stage before his pitiful old heart started messing with his convictions once again.
“Bloody hell,” he said, still talking under his breath, “Bloody bleeding hell, Silvertree, you’re a pig, all right, but you’ll not let this one walk away without an explanation!”
That said, he stomped off in the direction Soran had taken—that is, as much as a nobly born dandy like himself could try his hand at stomping. His student hadn’t gone far; he hadn’t really given him the chance before racing after him. He was upon him before Soran had much of a chance to even notice his arrival.
“I never said I wanted anything serious,” he began, his tone rising with his agitation. “Oh, I know what we talked about last night, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that, don’t you understand?” His hands balled unconsciously into fists as he fixed Soran with an almost desperate look. “I wanted you the way I wanted any other pretty face, and damn it, I got you! But it should have only been a one time thing, and I certainly didn’t mean for you to develop feelings for me, or for me to do the same for you.”
He cursed more softly and leaned against a nearby tree, burying his face against his arm for a second. “I told you before,” he continued imploringly while lifting his head once again, “I’m no good at relationships. I never was. I wanted to try with you, and I still do, but I admit it, I’m scared I’ll screw it up and that’s because I probably will. I always do.”
He pushed away from the tree and shook his head, almost impatiently. “It’s not in my nature to be faithful, or so I always imagined. So the gods put a curse on me and gave me a weak heart, sari.” In any other situation, he would have laughed because it seemed really true. “Every moment longer we spent together I knew I was falling more and more for you. At the same time, I knew the time would come when I’d hurt you, just like I’ve hurt anyone else who’s become dear to me.”
He held out his hands then, palms upturned, in a rather helpless gesture. He was feeling helpless now, helpless against his own predisposition to cause himself and those he loved such pain. “By turning me free, you’re just proving my theory right. I can’t make anyone truly happy, not even myself, no matter how hard I wish I could. I’m happiest when I have someone to love, but that never lasts, does it?”
He was silent for a moment, then added, in a very soft, somber voice, “You’re seventeen today, love. Still very young. It’ll pass, I promise. There will be others, especially for you.”
Then he turned and walked away, keeping the same brisk pace he’d used originally. Past experience told him he needed desperately to focus on something else right now, and the possibility of returning home would have to do. He sought out Darlanta and began immediately to question her about the other otherworldly visitors she’d last come into contact with. Already, he imagined himself healing inside, pushing past the hurt and moving on to his next conquest. It was easier, he knew deep down inside, if he always thought of them as conquests. That’s all they were, anyway. Just conquests.
