Chapter 13 — The Boy Rowan Was
1244 Words
Before Lena Disappeared
Lena found the photograph inside a book that had been sealed for ten years.
She hadn't meant to look for it.
After leaving the Council House, she returned to Ashford House with Rowan, refusing to discuss the voice beneath the floor until she understood why he had threatened Gideon.
But the moment they entered, Lena went straight to the study.
She needed something that hadn't been written by the Council, altered by strangers, or delivered by an unknown hand.
She needed proof of her own past.
The book lay beneath a stack of Eleanor's journals. Its cover was cracked, and dust clung to its spine. When Lena opened it, a photograph slipped between the pages and landed faceup on the desk.
She stopped breathing.
A little girl stood beside a boy near Hollow Lake.
The girl wore a red scarf and a crescent-moon necklace.
Lena recognized herself immediately.
The boy was taller than her, with dark hair falling across his forehead and a serious expression that seemed almost comical on his young face.
But it was his eyes that made her heart stumble.
Gray.
She knew those eyes.
Rowan.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Ten years before Lena's disappearance.
Beneath it were three words.
You promised her.
“Rowan!”
He appeared in the doorway.
Lena held up the photograph.
“Explain this.”
His expression changed the moment he saw it.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
“Where did you find that?”
“In a book. That's not what I asked.”
He walked toward the desk, his gaze fixed on the photograph.
“Lena—”
“You knew me when I was a child.”
“Yes.”
The admission came so quietly that she almost missed it.
Her fingers tightened around the photograph.
“You knew me before I disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“And you've spent all this time letting me believe we were practically strangers?”
Rowan looked away.
“I never said we were strangers.”
“You let me believe I was a girl you happened to know about. You never told me we had photographs together!”
“I didn't know that photograph still existed.”
“But you remember me.”
His silence answered her.
Lena pushed back her chair.
“How long?”
Rowan drew a slow breath.
“Since before you learned to ride a bicycle. Before you lost your first tooth. Before you decided the lake was the most beautiful place in the world.”
Her throat tightened.
“You remember all of that?”
“I remember you.”
Something in his voice made her pause.
Not affection exactly.
Something older.
Something wounded.
“Then tell me what I was like.”
Rowan glanced at the photograph.
“You asked too many questions. You climbed trees you couldn't get down from. You hated being told what to do.”
Despite everything, Lena almost smiled.
“That sounds like me.”
“It was.”
“What else?”
“You used to follow me everywhere when we were children. You called me your shadow because I always appeared when you needed help.”
She looked at his face.
“And were you?”
“Your shadow?”
“Yes.”
Rowan's jaw tightened.
“I tried to be.”
The words carried a weight she couldn't explain.
Lena looked down at the photograph again. In it, her younger self was holding something in her free hand.
A small wooden bird.
She turned the picture sideways, studying the object.
“I don't remember this.”
“You made it.”
“I did?”
“You insisted it was a guardian bird. You said it would protect anyone who carried it.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don't know.”
She studied the boy beside her.
“Why were we at Hollow Lake?”
Rowan's expression darkened.
“You liked going there.”
“That's all?”
“No.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“You believed there was something beneath the water. You said it could hear you when you spoke.”
Lena felt the crescent on her wrist begin to throb.
“What did you think?”
“I thought you had an overactive imagination.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I should have listened.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
Lena placed the photograph on the desk.
“Were we there the night I disappeared?”
Rowan didn't answer immediately.
“Were we?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
Her heart hammered.
“You were with me?”
“I was nearby.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Rowan looked at the window.
“I remember the rain. I remember people shouting. I remember being told to stay away from the lake.”
“By whom?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Won't you mean.”
His eyes returned to hers.
“Believe me, Lena. There are things I remember clearly and things I can't put together. That night, I was sent away before everything happened.”
“Who sent you away?”
“I won't lie to you. I don't know who gave the order.”
She searched his face for signs of deception.
He looked exhausted.
But exhaustion wasn't proof of honesty.
“After I disappeared, did you look for me?”
“Every year.”
The answer was immediate.
“Why?”
“Because everyone said you were dead, and I knew they were wrong.”
“How?”
Rowan reached into his coat and withdrew a small, folded piece of paper.
“I found this near the lake the morning after you disappeared.”
He placed it beside the photograph.
The paper was old and water-stained. Most of the writing had faded, but one sentence remained legible.
If Lena comes back, don't let her remember the girl.
Lena stared at it.
“Who wrote this?”
“I never found out.”
“And you kept it for ten years?”
“Yes.”
She looked at the photograph, then the note.
A childhood she couldn't remember.
A boy who had never forgotten her.
A night that had divided their lives.
“Rowan, what was I to you?”
For once, he didn't hide behind silence.
“You were my friend.”
The answer should have comforted her.
Instead, it hurt.
“Just your friend?”
His eyes met hers.
“You were the person I promised I would protect.”
The room fell silent.
Lena's crescent burned sharply beneath her sleeve.
She pressed her palm against it.
A memory flashed through her mind: a younger Rowan kneeling beside her near the lake, his face streaked with rain.
His small hands gripped hers.
“Whatever happens,” the boy whispered, “I'll find you.”
Then another voice spoke from the darkness.
“You already failed her once.”
Lena staggered.
Rowan caught her arm.
“What did you see?”
She looked at him, trembling.
“Us.”
His face went pale.
“What else?”
Lena swallowed.
“A promise.”
Before he could respond, the photograph on the desk turned over by itself.
Fresh words appeared across its back.
ASK ROWAN WHY HE WAS THE LAST PERSON TO SEE YOU ALIVE.
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