The genuine care in his voice made her chest tighten with guilt. Rowan had been nothing but patient and supportive. He deserved better than a woman whose attention kept drifting to another man, especially when that man had made it clear he wasn't interested in anything beyond professional obligation.
They wandered through the celebration, but every few minutes someone would approach with whispered reports of new plant deaths. The corruption was spreading faster than anyone had anticipated, and Freya found herself calculating how much of Hollow Oak's magical ecosystem they could lose before the entire town became uninhabitable.
"Miss Bloom." Elder Varric materialized beside them with silent grace. His silver braids caught the lantern light as he leaned close. "Might I have a word?"
Freya's stomach dropped. "Of course."
"Three more properties reported corruption since this morning," he said quietly. "The pattern is accelerating. At this rate, we'll lose the entire agricultural district before the week is out."
"I'm working on it," Freya said, hating how defensive she sounded.
"Perhaps you might benefit from consulting additional resources. The regional council has experts in historical magical bindings." His storm-gray eyes held no judgment, but she could feel the weight of his expectations. "Pride is a luxury we can't afford right now, Miss Bloom."
Elder Varric melted back into the crowd, leaving Freya frozen beside Rowan. Incomplete information. Limited time. Pride. Everything she'd feared about her inadequacy as a guardian laid bare.
"Whatever that was about, you can talk to me," Rowan said, his arm tightening around her shoulders.
Her hesitation allowed her to hear the sudden commotion near the pumpkin patch that caught their attention. Children were backing away from the display area, their parents moving quickly to gather them close. Even from a distance, Freya could see the telltale black veining spreading across several of the prize pumpkins.
"Oh no," she breathed.
The corruption had reached the festival itself.
People began pointing and murmuring with rising panic. Freya started toward the contaminated display, her healer's instincts overriding everything else, but a strong hand caught her arm.
"Don't." Kieran's voice was low and commanding. "You can't help them, and getting too close will only make people panic more."
"I have to try," she protested, but she let him guide her away from the spreading corruption with a possessive hand on her lower back that made her skin burn through her sweater.
"What you have to do is stay safe." His amber eyes flashed with something fierce and protective. "Getting yourself infected with whatever this is won't help anyone."
The warmth of his palm against her spine, the way he positioned himself between her and the threat without conscious thought, made Freya's heart race in ways that had nothing to do with fear. This was the same man who'd called her a problem to handle just hours ago, but his actions spoke of something deeper than professional obligation.
Within minutes, black veining consumed the entire pumpkin patch, the cheerful orange gourds transformed into twisted monuments to corruption. The festival's joy evaporated, replaced by fearful tension.
"We should go," Freya said, her voice barely steady.
They retreated toward the bonfire, where the music had stopped and clusters of people stood talking in worried whispers. Kieran melted into the crowd to help with crowd control, and Rowan caught her hand.
"Freya. Can we talk? Privately?"
She followed him to a quiet spot beside the lake, where the bonfire's light danced across the water. Rowan took her hands in both of his, his brown eyes serious with intent that made her stomach clench with dread.
"I know tonight didn't go as planned," he said, his voice gentle but determined. "But what I want to ask you isn't about tonight. It's about our future."
No.The word screamed through her mind, but she couldn't voice it.
"I've been thinking about this for months. About us, about what we could build together." His thumbs traced gentle patterns across her knuckles. "You know how I feel about you, Freya. How I've always felt."
"Rowan..."
"I want to take care of you. I want to be the person you come home to at the end of difficult days. I want to share your burdens and celebrate your triumphs and build something lasting together." He took a deep breath before dropping to one knee. "Marry me. Be my partner, my everything."
The proposal hung in the autumn air between them, beautiful and sincere and everything a woman should want to hear from a good man. Rowan's love was genuine, his devotion unquestionable, his promise of partnership exactly the kind of stable future her grandmother would have encouraged.
So why did it feel like a cage closing around her?
"I..." Freya's voice failed as she looked into his earnest brown eyes. How could she explain that her heart had started responding to someone else's presence with electric awareness that made her question everything she thought she knew about love?