“And Hall O’Donar is someone you care for?”
Brie considered denying it, but she had little to gain other than trying to shield her pride. But pride was of little use in gaining this woman’s alliance.
“He is. Will you help me?”
“Mayhap. Does he feel the same way about you? Do you think he’d choose you over that which is most important to him, as you propose doing?”
Perhaps not. He’d already made it clear he’d leave her behind when Fenrir was no longer a threat.
But what he would do was of no matter to her. She could only control her own actions, not his, just as she could only control her own feelings, not his. And she knew without a doubt how she felt about him.
“What he would choose is of no importance. When you care for someone, you do whatever you can for them. This is what I must do. I ask you again, will you help me?”
Another long pause before the old woman answered had Brie worrying that she would refuse the request.
“Well spoken, Princess. Even the Norns themselves could no have foreseen the last daughter of the House MacUlagh taking a fancy to the Defender of the Thunder’s People. Even if I hadna already taken such a liking to you, lass, the opportunity to confound the plans of those condescending old women would be reason enough for my assistance. If it’s truly the wish of yer heart, I will help you.”
Brie threw her arms around Orabilis, lifting her from her feet to twirl her around. “Thank you! So very much. Thank you.” She set the old woman down.
“Dinna be so quick to thank me.” Orabilis patted her hair back into place before heading toward the cottage. “The symbols you ask for hold a powerful Magic of their own. They will mark not only your skin but also your destiny. When Magic calls to Magic, Magic responds. The path you choose is no an easy one, especially if yer still determined to see vengeance wreaked upon the MacDowylt. The hunt for revenge might well soothe the grief you feel now. But once the hunt is over, if that’s all you have to fill yer heart, you’ll be left empty and wanting.
“Here’s a wisdom that my people live by: Sometimes in life, you must let go in order to hold on. Before all is said and done, you may well regret this sacrifice yer making.”
Nineteen
THE FETID STENCHpermeating the little cottage was enough to wake the dead, and still Hall slept.
Though Brie envied him his escape from the sinus-rotting odor, his sleeping through something as awful as this served as proof that what she prepared to do was absolutely necessary.
Orabilis fussed over the little pot by the fireplace, jerking her head back from the fumes when she lifted the lid to stir the thick, dark liquid inside.
Brie fought the temptation to giggle at the expression of disgust on the old woman’s face.
“It’s a fair vile brew you’ve concocted there.” An understatement if ever she’d made one.Vilewould be a compliment to the nastiness in that pot.
“It is that,” Orabilis agreed, her face still wrinkled in revulsion. “Little wonder yer people were called barbarians. I’ve always detested the smell of this plant.”
It wasn’t just the plant. Everything the old witch had put inside that pot smelled horrible, and it had only gotten worse as it had ripened over the past two days.
“As I promised it would be, our stain is ready. If yer sure you still want to go through with this, that is. A commitment such as you intend to make, once it’s done, stays done.”
Brie glanced to the room where Hall slept. Each night she had sat there next to him, hoping for some sign of improvement. Two days and nights and there had been none, though Orabilis still swore he could awaken at any time.
He lay flat on his back, stiff as the boards that held up his bed. His face had grown even paler than it was when they’d first arrived, except for the two bright red splotches on his cheeks, harbingers of the fever that ravaged his body. Unless the fever broke, he had no chance of survival.
“I’m sure.”
She would not stand by and see him die.
“As you wish,” Orabilis muttered, ladling out a scoop of the colorful dye into a stone bowl. “So it will be. Strip out of yer shift and climb up on the stool here by the fire, so I can see what I’m doing.”
She would have to take her clothes off? In front of the old witch? If she’d stopped for even one single moment to think about what she was doing, she might have reasoned that out for herself. Orabilis couldn’t very well paint the symbols of war and protection on her skin without her baring her body to the old woman.
“Come on, come on with you. Quit yer dawdling. You’ve nothing to show me that I haven’t seen each time I take off my own shift.”
The very idea of the old woman standing naked on a stool brought a smile to Bridget’s lips and urged her forward.
“Hold yer arms out. Nice and steady. Good. Just like that. Now, dinna you move a muscle.”
