“Rain will be here soon,” Hildi said, flipping her dark braids over her shoulder.
“As long as it’s not like that storm Sheona left in, we can manage.”
They walked in silence for a moment before Hildi asked quietly, “Do you truly think it’s the same man?”
“I’m certain of it.”
“But why would he come back here? Everyone knows Sheona married Taskill and lives on MacVey land now. Eva moved to Rankin land. Why would they still search?”
Brynja shot her a look. “They aren’t looking for Sheona.”
“Then who?”
“Me, Hildi. They’re after me.” She kept her voice even, matter-of-fact. “Nearly every morning and every evening for the last week. They’re searching for something. For someone. I put a dagger in the fool’s leg, and he wants revenge.”
Hildi pressed close, their shoulders touching. Warmth and solidarity. “The sisters say we shouldn’t seek revenge for anything.”
“I’m not a nun, Hildi.” Brynja’s hand tightened on her spear. “You know what I must do.”
Hildi sighed. “I do. But I’ll worry about you. If you go alone, you may never return, and what would I do without you?”
Brynja thought about her words carefully. She had no intention of abandoning her dearest friend and cousin, but promising she wouldn’t would be hollow. “Hildi, if we ever split up, I wish you all the happiness in the world. Don’t worry about me. After all, I’m eight and ten now. I could leave whenever I wish.”
Hildi was only six and ten—still soft in ways Brynja no longer was. She still slept through the night, no nightmares forcing screams from the deepest part of her belly.
“I know.” Hildi fiddled with three braids on one side of her head, deftly weaving them into one thick plait. “You must do what’s in your heart.”
“Aye.”
“But not today.”
“Soon.” Brynja lowered her spear. “I’m telling you the bastard will land eventually, and when he does—”
“You’ll kill him.”
The certainty in Hildi’s voice should have been comforting. Instead it settled like a stone in Brynja’s chest.
“I’ll do what I must,” Brynja said. “But come. We’ll eat.”
The two continued toward the stone walls of the nunnery in silence, the memories between them so powerful they rarelydiscussed them anymore. The gate stood open, welcoming them home. Brynja cast one final glance over her shoulder toward the empty sea.
“Do you ever wonder,” Hildi said as they walked, “what we’d be doing if it had never happened? If we were still on Tiree, and our mamas were still—”
“Nay.” Brynja kept her eyes forward.
But she lied. She wondered all the time. Wondered what her mother would say about the woman Brynja had become, hard and watchful and hungry for blood. Would her mother even recognize this person?
“It’s not just about the man who came for Sheona,” Brynja said quietly. “I have to go after the men who killed our mothers. I must, Hildi. I’ll never be able to live with myself if their killers walk this land freely, able to do the same to others.”
“I know.”
What Brynja didn’t tell her friend was that the dreams had returned. Dreams that whispered of vengeance, of blood, of a reckoning drawing near.
The dreams were growing darker. More urgent.
Something was coming. Something larger than one man’s revenge for a dagger in his thigh.
And Brynja had learned to trust her dreams.
