Page 101 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“I— I apologize. ”I bow deeply. “Please, forgive me for my misguided concerns.”

She smiles at me, a cruel twist of her lips beneath dark, rage-filled eyes. “Are you not capable of the task I have given you?”

I shake my head, raising my hands. “I am. I was mistaken. I only thought⁠—”

“I wouldn't blame you if it was too much.” Her voice is calculated as she lifts one of the threads, and I nearly leap forward and rip it from her hands. Whose is it? Cillian’s? Saoirse’s?

“Though I thought, with your history, with your Marsaili, you would be beyond her manipulation. I thought with your unbreakable vow and your vengeful heart, you would be blind to her deception.”

“I am capable. I thought I discovered information that would help, but even though my intent was pure, I was clearly wrong. I’m only a human, unable to fully grasp the immensity of your power.” I step forward, pushing resolve into my voice until it is as hard as steel. “My mission hasnae changed.” I lift up my hand to show my unbreakable vow. “I want vengeance. I want to do your bidding, and when the time comes, I want to kill the Washwoman,” I say, but the words feel wrong coming out of my mouth.

Cailleach sighs dramatically, but the anger in her eyes lessens a fraction at my groveling.

“I think some time away from the Washwoman would do you well. My dear sister is concerned about a village in Tìr an Tomhais. Iomallrùin. She believes a pocket of ceatharnaich could be forming there. You will go there and investigate. After you are certain none remain, you are to go home. Visit your Marsaili’s grave. See your family. I think it would do you well to lay eyes on them again. You never know how long you will have with them, you know.” She strokes the threads, and sheer panic explodes in my chest.

“I dinnae want time away. I want to help you stop whatever is happening to these women.”

“You said you wish to do my bidding. You will go where I say. You will remind yourself of what happens to those who think they know better than the Fates. You will see your siblings, and you will remember why you will not fail me again.” She meets my gaze. “Now go.” She dismisses me with a flick of her wrist. “Do not return to the river until a fortnight has passed. Should the Washwoman disappear in that time…” she trails off, but her meaning is clear.

I fight against the urge to stare at the threads. My siblings. The people I love most in this world.

“I understand.”

A cruel smile spreads on her lips. “Garrick?” she calls. The heavy doors open again, and he enters.

“You are to escort Brennen to Iomallrùin to assess for ceatharnaich, and then home. Ensure he does not return to the river until a full fortnight has passed.”

“Of course, Cailleach,” he says with a bow, his eyes finding mine and narrowing with concern.

I bow, then turn to leave, and Garrick follows close behind.

“I do so hope the Washwoman doesn't disappear while you’re gone,” Cailleach calls after me, her voice light with mock sincerity.

But as I walk into the night, her cackle following me into the crisp air, I am certain that both my family and the Washwoman have never been in more danger.

43

BEA

It begins with a groan, guttural and deep. I shoot up in Brennen's bed, my heart racing as I blink the sleep away.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice shaking.

“Helllllppppp meeeeee,” a pain-filled moan slithers through the tent, and I freeze. The hair on my arms stands on end, a shiver running down my spine. There’s a long moment of silence, and I rise to peek out of the tent, grabbing a branch from the pile of wood next to the fire. “Who’s out there?” I ask, lighting the end of the stick and holding it out in front of me to search the darkness.

The After shudders, the ground beneath my feet rumbling. “Helllllppppp meeeeee,” the voice calls again, and I stiffen. I squint into the night, where a dark shape floats within the After. The moaning grows louder, the air suddenly crackling with energy.

“Who are you?” I call, but my voice comes out small.

The figure pauses their movement, and I take a tentative step forward. In an instant, several more shadows appear, as if my presence called them into existence.

“Who are you?” I say again, wading into the water. I don’t want to get near them, but my feet refuse to stop moving, a tug in my chest urging me forward, closer and closer until I’m less than half a dragon’s length away from where they hide in the black mist.

“It hurts,” one of the shadows says. A different voice, this time, and my stomach twists. I should turn around. Should hide in Brennen's tent and not emerge until morning comes, but the voice is familiar. My dàn of memory burns, and something tickles my mind, but still, I can't quite place it.

“Please, goddess, help me.” A sob of agony. Another voice. Then another and another.

My chain catches, and I stumble, even my dàn of steadiness no match for the abrupt stop. Pain shoots through my ankle, and I fall forward into the water. My torch submerges, extinguishing in a second, and only darkness remains.