It wasn’t empty. Their piles of sticks sat atop the logs and tinder that Alannah had collected just before they arrived. But she had more than enough fuel to feed the fire for another fortnight at least, even without their contribution. Confused by the seeming contradiction, Alannah continued past, her mind racing. By the time she reached the kitchen where Emer prepared a rich meal of roast salmon, Alannah put the pieces together.
The confusion when she’d first found them in the woods. The hesitation in answering her question. The unnecessary addition to her woodpile.
They’d clearly not checked her stores.
Which meant Conan had lied to her. Again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alannah couldn’t stopgoing over the events of that day in her mind. Not only had Conan lied to her, it had been about wood. Why would they lie to her about collecting wood?
She sat staring into the fire as Emer shut down the inn for the night.
Why would they need wood? And why would they need to hide it from her?
The fire popped and hissed. Then a deeply unsettling thought struck her.
Twigs and sticks are used to feed fires.
They couldn’t possibly be behind the fire at the bridge, could they?
Worrying her lower lip, Alannah ran through the facts again. They lied about their identities. They were some of the best warriors in the kingdom, and they’d been assigned to stay in town and wait? That did seem odd, but not impossible.
The fire happened after they’d arrived. They’d helped put it out, but when Alannah rushed out of the inn, they were already outside. Which meant they either heard the shouts and got out the door before she ever walked into the common room, or they’d already been outside.
It was suspicious, to be sure. But Alannah wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Instead, she was going to investigate further. Conan was on watch with Ardál tonight, which meant she could simply walk down there and look around.But something inside her cautioned against that. Ignoring it, Alannah grabbed her hooded cloak and stepped out into the chilly spring night.
Having stood watch at the bridge herself, she knew what roads and buildings were in clear view of the western guard, and which were not. She stepped lightly, trying to stay quiet and in the shadows. If she could make it to the southwestern edge of town, she’d be able to see what they were doing and stay more or less out of view from them.
More than likely, she’d just find Conan or Ardál standing guard. She was probably overreacting. She felt a twinge of guilt in her gut as she navigated the last few buildings before taking up a post behind a guelder rose bush upriver from the bridge.
The guilt dissipated the moment she spotted them. Instead, her insides tangled into a knot, leaving her with a sick feeling in her stomach and the taste of betrayal in her mouth.
They were all there, all five of them. Conan and Ardál stood in their watch positions on either side of the bridge. The other three tiptoed through the waist-high water, doing something beneath the bridge. They would be hidden from most places in Ath Luain because of the slope of the bank.
But from a view right down the river, Alannah could clearly see that they were up to something—something they wanted to keep hidden. Before she confronted Conan about it, she needed to be certain it was actually as bad as it appeared.
The following morn, Alannah headed straight for the bridge. She eased herself into the frigid water, shivering as she waded out to inspect the underside. The last of her hopes came crashing down when she spied twigs and branches stuffed between the trusses. The entire underside of the causeway was filled with them. Dried pine needles, handfuls of hay, and similarly flammable tinder was distributed throughout the twigs.
There was no more denying it. The evidence lay right before her. Her blood boiled, anger coursing through her like raging waters through a broken dam. She grabbed a fistful of the tinder and twigs, pulling it from beneath the bridge and tossing it onto the topside. Then another.
This entire time, he’d been lying to her. Initially, she understood. They didn’t know each other—they’d only just met. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than a night of fun. Of course he wouldn’t have told her all his secrets.
She kept pulling, faster and faster.
But once he’d learned how important this bridge was to her livelihood, he still tried to destroy it. Not only that, but he’d even joined the damned watch to help protect it!
Alannah lost all track of time as she ripped apart their careful work, destroying their plan as she hatched her own. For all she cared for Conan, she couldn’t let him get away with this.
Before she did anything too drastic, Alannah determined that she at least owed Conan the privilege of an explanation. She doubted anything could convince her that a plan to destroy the bridge held merit, but she wanted, so desperately, to be wrong in spite of all the evidence stacked against him.
By the time she’d finished pulling every last stick from beneath the bridge, she’d created a pile on top of it so large that it obstructed the road. Happily, few folk had passed as she’d been working. None of them were curious enough to ask about her project. She pushed all the brush down the bridge and out of the way, carrying it by unwieldy armfuls to the nearest copse of trees.
It was past midday and nearing dinner by the time she’d finished moving the pile and washed all the dirt off herself. The methodical, repetitive nature of her project had given her ample time to think on what she would do.
Though she was furious with all the men, she wanted to speak with Conan alone first. If she confronted him surrounded by his companions, he’d be far less likely to hear her out or be honest with her. Alone, she stood a chance of talking some sense into him.
She still hadn’t decided what to do about the watch. Obviously, they were no longer a part of that, but now that Alannah knew the responsible party, the bridge didn’t need watching.
