Shadows Of Desire

Rowan pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as Folen filled the tub with hot water. Once the tub was full, Folen knelt beside him and began pouring cups of water over his arms and down his back. Rowan stared down at the soapy water, willing himself not to shiver. The bath wasn’t cold, quite the opposite, it was the events of the night that caused him to shiver.

Rowan knew what sex was. He’d read about it and had heard the servants discussing their relationships but to see the acts for himself, and in such a manner, was disturbing. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so young when his mother had died she would have explained the ways of men to him. Then again, perhaps not. Ellarian Rochfort was a quite and distant woman. She was never unkind to Rowan but she also wasn’t as attentive as perhaps she should have been.

Rowan was mainly cared for by servants and his governess, an old woman called Nyana. When Rowan was brought to the palace Nyana had followed but she only stayed with him a few years. When he’d turned sixteen she’d disappeared. No one knew what happened to her and she never said that she was leaving. She simply kissed him goodnight, went back to her own room, and the next day she was gone. Rowan missed her terribly and hoped that she had retired to a cozy little cottage somewhere to live in peace.

Nyana had been like a second mother to Rowan though no one could replace his birth mother. Even though she was gone he would think of her often and some nights he swore he saw her standing in his room, watching over him. The moment he would turn to look at her though she would vanish, as if swallowed up by the shadows. Sometimes he would awake to the somber sounds of a woman singing softly near his bed.

Once he thought he’d even felt his hair being brushed away gently from his eyes. When he’d open his eyes of course, no one would be there. His heart sank each time he looked into the dark, emptiness of his room. How he longed to see his mother’s face once more and feel her arms wrapped safely around him as she had done so many times when he was a child. He missed the comfort of laying his head against her chest and the feel of her hands stroking his hair as she hummed softly until he fell asleep in her embrace.

Sometimes, at night, Rowan would awaken from his slumber, slip out of bed and move silently across his room to the small balcony window that overlooked a vast garden. He’d sit on the cushioned bench and peer down to the garden below. There he would catch a glimpse of his mother, padding barefoot along the cobblestone path through the trees, roses, and various other plants and flowers, always humming a mournful tune or singing softly to the flowerbeds.

Her long black hair hung like a shadow around her and she was always dressed in an elegant black gown. Her ghost white skin was illuminated by the moonlight as she walked. Eventually she stopped by a large tree sat in the very center of the garden and she would sit beneath it, head hung, shielding her face and wept. Rowan never knew why she wept, or what had caused her such sorrow, but he would sit, watching her, wishing that he could do something to ease her pain.

Once she looked up and caught Rowan watching her. Their eyes met and Rowan thought for a brief moment that he saw the slightest hint of a smile on her thin, pale, lips. It was the first and only time he’d ever seen his mother smile. It wasn’t long after that night that she’d died. She had been found laying beneath her tree, curled up on her side with her arms wrapped around her as if shielding herself from the cold.

There was never any cause given for her death. She wasn’t sick. There were no injuries anywhere on her body. Nyana had once told Rowan that she had simply died from a broken heart but would not elaborate from there. Rowan speculated that it had been caused from his father’s neglect then eventual abandonment, but he was never sure.

It seemed hard to believe that his mother could have loved the man at all, being that he was so cold and emotionless, but what did he know? Maybe his father’s cold and cruel demeanor had been caused by the loss of his wife. But, if they were so in love with each other, then why had he abandoned his wife and child to Ravenskeep in the first place? None of it made any sense and Rowan had learned long ago not to ask his father about his mother. Such questions would only earn him a sound beating so any questions he had, largely went unanswered.

Folen washed and rinsed Rowan’s long, black hair. When she was done, she stood and wiped her wet hands against the apron of her skirts. “Anything else ya need, highness?” She asked in a soft, wavering voice.

“No, Folen. Thank you.” Rowan leaned his back against the tub and let his head hang over the side. He audibly sighed and closed his eyes. Thoughts of his mother invading his thoughts once more. If she were still alive, he thought to himself, my life would be much happier.

“You resemble her a great deal.” Folen said suddenly, as though reading his mind.

Rowan looked over at her. “What?”

“Yer mother, M’Lord. You favor her in looks and more. You’re kind like she was. Twas a good woman, yer mother. She’s missed by so many.”

“You knew my mother?” Rowan sat forward, his curiosity piqued.

“Aye, M’Lord. For many years, I did.” Folen sat out clean towels. She was about to leave the room when she stopped and looked back at her charge for a moment. Rowan saw the start of a sad smile form on her lips. “You have her eyes.” She told him, a hint of melancholy to her words. “I saw her once carrying you through the forest. First time I seen her babe and I had to stop an’ watch. Such bright green eyes ya had. Shimmering like emerald jewels. Only ever one I seen with them eyes was your mother. Now you have them too. At least a part of her survived.”

Rowan smiled then. “Thank you, Folen.” He said.

Folen bowed to him. “I’ll go ’an lay your nightshirt out for ya. After that, I think I’ll take my leave.”

“Have a good night.” Rowan bid her. The woman bowed again and left the room.

Rowan settled back into the bath which, by now, was cooling off considerably. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to leave the safety of the water. Something about it calmed him. The soft gentle feel of it against his skin as the liquid covered him, up to his neck. He could fall asleep in that water. Had actually considered it a time or two. There was no fear of him drowning. He was a vampire after all. Drowning was the least of his worries.