“Mallt is right. We must help you. What can we do?”
A smile flickered across the king’s face. “There’s iron in your stomach, child. What could you do? My own strength has failed, as has that of my soldiers. What can any of us do but sit here and wait for the border to fall.”
Chapter 8
The Lord of the Dead dropped his cup back into the barrel of water and strode back to the harvest. I didn’t turn to watch him go. My legs felt so weak it was taking all my strength to remain standing. I opened my mouth to say something, swayed and fell. Belis caught me and lowered me to the ground. I tried to thank her but there was a cold pressure around my throat, choking the breath from me. Invisible bands of steel seemed to have wrapped themselves around my arms and legs. I couldn’t form my thoughts into sentences, not even into words; the inside of my head was a hurricane, uprooting everything I thought I knew about myself. I curled in on myself, trying to block out the world.
Belis grabbed my shoulders and hauled me into a sitting position. She propped me against the water barrel and shoved my head between my knees.
“Breathe deep,” she said, her voice almost drowned out by the panic. I gasped for breath, panting like a dog.
“I’ve doomed us all, Belis,” I gabbled, the words tripping out of me. “I should have come sooner, should have taken more care. I should have told someone we were coming this way, no one who could help will even know this is happening. It’s my fault, my fault, my fault.” The words were ragged but I kept forcing them out.
Belis looked around for help then crouched down in front of me. “Take a deep breath, Mallt, you need to stop panicking.”
I screwed my eyes shut and fought for control. It was a losing battle and my eyes snapped open again.
“Can’t breathe,” I choked out. Belis took my head between her hands and stared directly into my eyes. Then she leaned her forehead against mine.
“Breathe in with me, yes, that’s it. Now let go. Again, breathe in, then out.”
I only managed a shallow breath, but my panting was slowing. I felt her palms on my cheeks, coarse from years of gripping a spear. Her eyes were very green in this light and I could count the flecks of silver in her irises.
“That’s better, Mallt, one breath, then another. Slow. Don’t think about anything else, focus on me. In and out.” Her voice was soothing and I felt some of the tension leaving my muscles, the bands of steel around my throat loosening.
“Sorry about that,” I muttered, once I had regained control of my lungs. I half expected her to smirk but she sighed and sat down next to me, leaning back against the barrel.
“Things are not going according to plan,” I said. She barked a short laugh.
“I’ll say. I was hoping we would not linger here long, that we could convince Arawn to release Cati’s soul and be gone before the next sunset. I was already thinking about how to avoid the Romans on our return voyage.”
“Wishful thinking,” I said. Belis nodded.
“You know all that I have done. You understand my urge to remove this stain from my own soul. Now it appears that there will be no redemption for me. Worse still, no second life for Cati, and, most terrible of all, I have managed to pollute whatever chance she had of a peaceful afterlife.”
I leaned over and nudged her shoulder with mine. “I thought I was the one blaming myself for all this.”
“Is there not guilt enough to go around?” Belis didn’t shift away and I found a little comfort in the feel of her warmth next to me.
“So what are we going to do?”
“We?”
“There’s no point fighting it any more. I’m a human now, just like you. It seems that won’t be changing, even if we find a way out of this. You and I are humans together, the only living humans in Annwn.”
“If we weren’t here then I’d tell you being a human wasn’t so bad. You’ve only really met me and Vatta. I wish you could meet Cati properly, you’d like her, I think. Humans are the best part of being human,” Belis frowned, “though they can be the worst part as well.”
“Tell me a bit more about her then,” I said.
“Now?”
“We have nowhere to go, nothing to do. For the first time in weeks there are no Romans on our tail. Since we are sitting here together waiting for the end, why not pass some time. So, what is your sister like?”
Belis took a deep breath and began talking. At first she was stoic, but as the sun traced its way across the horizon she seemed to settle into her stories. She told me about Cati, how she had spent her whole life protecting her, proud to be her older sister. She spoke about her family, her brilliant and beloved father, Prasutagus, and his reign over the Iceni. Her mother, the firebrand Boudica, teaching her to fight, to survive. The rise of the Romans and the gradual understanding that her father would be the last of the independent Iceni kings. Her voice broke as she talked about his death and the betrayal of the Roman governor that sparked the rebellion.
I liked listening to her talk, the sound of her voice humming through the warm autumn air. When her throat grew dry I fetched us more water from the barrel, and when her eyes grew damp I put my hand on hers and she gripped it tight.
When Belis ran out of stories she asked me for mine and I talked about the ages I had spent running across the islands of Britain. I laughed as I recounted adventures with the Wild Hunt and the old kingdoms when the line between fae and mortal hadbeen blurred. Belis laughed, too, and I found I liked the sound of her laughter. It felt precious, hard-won.
