THE PRICE OF THE PETAL

The bargain

The ignis root pulsed again, searing through layers of wool and leather to brand my hip. Some debts, my mother once warned, are written in blood long before the knife falls.

I couldnt move i just stood there and stared at him, i wished i could just send the ignis root back to Elmhallow where i knew my mother laid dying, her breath rattling like dry leaves in her chest. The king's thumb brushed my lower lip, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who'd moments ago threatened to gut me.

"You smell like crushed violets," he murmured, his breath hot against my mouth. "And terror." His tongue flicked out, tracing the seam of my lips before pulling back with a low hum. "Tell me your name, little thief, before I decide you're more trouble than you're worth."

"Isolda," I whispered, the name torn from me like a confession. His eyes darkened, the molten gold bleeding into something deeper, hungrier. The hand in my hair tightened, sending sharp tingles down my spine.

"Isolda," he repeated, rolling the syllables like aged wine on his tongue. The way he said it made my knees weak. "You came all this way for a root that will burn through your veins before it ever reaches your mother's lips." His free hand slid down to my satchel, fingers dipping inside to brush the glowing ignis root. The contact sent sparks skittering up my arm, my vision whiting out for a heartbeat as the magic in it surged.

When I could see again, he was holding the root between us, its pulsing light casting eerie shadows across the sharp planes of his face. "Here's my bargain," he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that vibrated through my bones. "I'll send this to your mother with my fastest rider. But you..." His teeth scraped my earlobe, sending fire licking down my neck. "You stay. As my slave." The word curled around me, heavy with unspoken promises."my woman" he added sensing the suprise and terror in my eyes.

I shuddered, not from the cold, the heat radiating from his body had long since chased that away, but from the way my traitorous heart leapt at his words. "And if I refuse?" My voice barely sounded like my own, raw and trembling.

His chuckle was dark as the roots beneath us. "Then I feed you the root whole." He pressed it against my lips, the heat searing. "Let's see how long a mortal lasts with ignis fire in her veins." His other hand slid down to my thigh, fingers digging in just shy of pain. "Choose."

The forest seemed to hold its breath around us, even the whispering leaves stilling. I thought of my mother's ashen face, her labored breaths in our cramped cottage. Thought of the way this king's touch burned brighter than any ignis root. "Send the root," I breathed. "I'll stay."

Something savage flashed in his eyes before he crushed his mouth to mine. There was nothing gentle in the kiss, it was teeth and tongue and the coppery taste of my split lip. When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged. "Rowan," he growled. "My name is Rowan." As if it were a curse.

He ripped the root from my satchel and whistled sharply. A shadow detached itself from the trees, a rider on a night-black mare. Rowan tossed him the root with a terse command in a language that crackled with magic. The rider vanished into the gloom.

Rowan turned back to me, his fingers tracing the curve of my throat where his blade had rested. "Now," he murmured, "let's see if you taste as sweet as you smell." His mouth descended again, this time with purpose. And gods help me, I arched into it, the ignis heat between us flaring brighter than any root could ever burn.

As i feared i would loose my virginity in the woods and to my captor stranger, he suddenly stoped, a smile decorated his lips as if he thought of a better plan. My pulse hammered against his fingertips where they still pressed into my throat, each beat a frantic protest and plea. Rowan's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "Not here," he murmured against my lips. "Not when you're still trembling like a snared rabbit."

The ignis trees shuddered around us as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Heat radiated through his leathers where my thighs gripped him, more intimate than any touch should be between captor and captive. His growl vibrated against my chest as I unconsciously rocked against him. "Careful, healer," he warned, though his hands tightened possessively on my hips. "I may be patient, but I'm not a saint."

Moonlight dappled his shoulders as he carried me deeper into the woods, past trees whose bark pulsed like living coals. The air thickened with the scent of burning honey, cloying and sweet enough to make my head swim. Rowan's breath hitched when I buried my face against his neck, inhaling the wild spice of his skin. "You'll like my court," he said suddenly, voice gone rough. "The Obsidian Spires would make a proper nest for a little bird like you."

I stiffened at the mention of his realm, the stories flooding back, how the Unseelie danced with skeletons in their marble halls, how their wine was said to be distilled from screams. His chuckle rumbled through me. "Don't believe everything you hear, sweet liar." His fingers traced idle patterns up my spine. "Though some rumors..." His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Are deliciously true."

I expected to be suprised but i wasn't, his huge palace looked just normal and sparkling which atleast calmed my nerves a bit, the floor was made of black marble with silver veins running through it, the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles, their threads shimmering with embedded starlight. Rowan set me down on a fur-covered dais, his hands lingering at my waist as he studied my reaction. "Disappointed?" he purred, tracing the curve of my hip with a single claw. "Were you hoping for skulls on pikes?"

The air smelled of smoked amber and crushed roses, thick enough to taste. My fingers dug into the furs beneath me, the silken strands slipping through my grasp like water. Rowan watched the movement with predatory focus before dragging a heavy chair before me, its back carved into twisting antlers. He sat with lethal grace, knees spread, elbows resting on the armrests. "Now," he said, voice gone dangerously soft, "let's discuss your education."

Moonlight spilled through the arched windows, casting his face in sharp relief. I could see the exact moment his gaze caught on the way my borrowed tunic, his tunic, gaped at the collar, revealing the rapid flutter of my pulse. His nostrils flared. "First lesson," he continued, leaning forward just enough to make my breath hitch. "Nothing in my court is given freely. Not protection." His fingers brushed my ankle, sending heat licking up my leg. "Not pleasure." The hand slid higher. "Certainly not love."

I should have recoiled. Should have remembered my mother's warnings about faerie bargains. But when his palm cupped my knee, thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind it, all I could think was how cold I'd been before his touch. How empty.

Rowan's smile turned wicked as he read my surrender in the arch of my spine. "Second lesson," he murmured, rising to tower over me. "You do everything that i say, because disobeying me calls for punishments." His lips grazed my temple, his next words vibrating against my skin. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

The furs beneath me shifted as he knelt between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs with deliberate slowness. I gasped when his fingers found the delicate skin of my inner thighs, his touch igniting trails of fire that had nothing to do with magic. "Tell me, Isolda," he murmured against my collarbone, "has anyone ever touched you here?" His teeth scraped the sensitive flesh, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make me whimper.

I shook my head, fingers twisting in the furs as his mouth traveled lower, tracing the dip between my breasts. His breath was hot through the thin fabric of the borrowed tunic, dampening it until it clung to my skin. "Good," he purred, the word curling around me like smoke. "Then every inch of you will remember me first."

A shudder wracked my body as his hand slid higher, fingers teasing the hem of my tunic. The air between us thickened, charged with something heavier than desire, something primal and ancient, like the roots twisting beneath the palace floors. Rowan paused, his gaze locking onto mine. "Last chance to refuse," he said, voice roughened with restraint.

I knew then that this was another test. Another game. But the way his fingers trembled against my skin betrayed something far deeper than cruelty.

I closed my eyes, welcoming everything, hot tears slid from my eyes. I couldn't imagine this was how it would be, i had imagined giving my first time to my first love and the more I thought about it, the more I cried.

Rowan's hands stilled. The sudden silence was louder than his growl had been. When I dared to look, his expression was unreadable in the flickering torchlight, the sharp angles of his face cast in gold and shadow. His thumb caught a tear before it could fall, holding it up between us like some rare jewel. "Do you think," he said slowly, each word measured, "that I would take what isn't willingly given?"