There was no avoiding this. The guards would take one of them. They were doing their job to protect the town, the same as she would. Her heart lurched even so. The reality of Brighde’s loss had not yet settled on her, and already Fynn was to be taken away, too. She was duty bound to protect him, as her brother, as her family. But there was nothing to be done.
Aloisia wrapped an arm beneath Brighde’s shoulders, hauling her into her lap. Her weight was strange and unyielding, so unlike the previous times she had held her. Fynn traced Brighde’s cheek, his gaze lingering, as if to commit every detail to memory. Then, steeling himself, he placed a hand upon Aloisia’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” he uttered, rising to his feet.
Aloisia watched as he strode towards Kari, offering his wrists. A sudden calm came over him, his shoulders rigid and his jaw set. The guard locked the manacles and led him out into the street.
Aloisia’s throat closed, and her chest tightened. She couldn’t let him go, couldn’t let him walk willingly to that fate. Losing them both, Brighde and Fynn, all in one night. A glimpse down at Brighde gave her pause. Fynn had entrusted her to Aloisia. She couldn’t leave her and chase after him.
Brighde’s warmth was ebbing. Aloisia held her hand, cold as ice, laying limp within her own. Sipping in a breath, Aloisia weighed up her options. Time was running short, and Fynn would soon be out of reach.
Slowly, Aloisia set Brighde on the floor. Her pale brown hair fell like a halo about her head. She squeezed her fingers in a silent apology, rising to her feet. As she let go, her palm burned with a searing pain. She ignored it, clenching it in a fist. There wasn’t time. She charged out the door and faltered upon seeing Fynn bundled into the back of a barred cart.
The streetlamps were lit once more, illuminating the lane in golden tones. Fynn’s head hung low, bowed over his bound wrists. She burst forward, and Tristan reached for her, narrowly missing her arm.
“He didn’t do this!” she shouted. “It wasn’t him. You’re wasting your time!”
Jarkko didn’t answer as he climbed into the front of the cart, pulling on the reins and setting the horse into motion.
“You’re making a mistake and I’ll prove it!”
Fynn glanced up as she ran after the cart. His eyes were vacant, his shoulders slumped. He looked so defeated, so in shock. Was he even aware of what he was doing?
Kari caught her, holding her back. She didn’t bother fighting him. She wouldn’t be able to follow them to the prison. And Fynn wouldn’t thank her for it, for abandoning Brighde.
“Come on, lass,” Kari said. “Come back inside. He’ll be all right.”
His words didn’t reach her. She watched Fynn until the cart disappeared around the bend. Even then, she remained where she was, staring at the spot she had last seen him.
Tristan wove his fingers with hers, bringing her back to the present.
“Might I read the rites for her?” Tristan asked.
“If you please, Brother,” Kari said.
Tristan tugged her hand, but still she would not move. He released her, and she didn’t need to turn to know he would be kneeling over Brighde’s body.
“In the light of the Mother, the Father, the Huntress, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Bard, the Mage, and the Child, I bless this soul as she journeys to the Gates of the Celestial City. The Mother awaits to welcome her children home. And, this day, she shall welcome Brighde Smith into our final and eternal resting place.”
Aloisia collapsed to her knees, a sob ripping through her. So much had happened in such a short time. Her intoxicated mind still stumbled through the details. One thought persisted through the rest.
How was she going to tell Ma?
FIVE
Aloisiasatcross-leggedonTristan’sbed,thewaterlilyFynnhadmadebalancedinherlap.Shecradledherlefthandtoherchestwhilstshetracedthedelicatepetalsoftheblossomwithherother.Thesearingpainonherpalmhadfaded.Shedidn’thavethecouragetolookyet.Herfingerscurledintoatightfist.Tristanpacedbackandforthacrossthenarrowroom,onlymakingitsixstridesinanydirection.
They had waited at Fynn and Brighde’s house until more guards arrived and priests along with them. The Brothers had sanctified Brighde’s body before carrying her up to the Temple. Aloisia had watched, so distressed and distracted by the display she could barely answer the questions the guards fired at her.
She had repeated, over and over, the same story she had told Guard Kari. She spoke of the shadows, of the blue light, of the chill which spread through the streets like frost on a winter’s morning. And she had told them how she had not been present when Brighde had died, but she had seen the markings appear. Tristan had told much the same story to the guards questioning him.
And, after it all, once they’d moved Brighde, and the guards had finished their questions and begun searching the house, Aloisia stared at the dwelling in the shadow of the Temple and wondered where she was meant to go next.
Tristan had ushered her up to the Temple as the small hours waned and dawn approached. Exhaustion and shock weighed on her. It was only once they were within the safety of Tristan’s bedchamber, she’d remembered how her palm had burned when she’d touched Brighde’s.
Now she studiously ignored it.
“You’ll have to face her,” Tristan said, and not for the first time.
