Page 142 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

I squeeze my hands together to stop them from shaking. My knees tremble, so weak, I fear even my dàn of steadiness will not be able to stop me from dropping to the ground. Is it truly that easy for Cailleach to end a life?

“But… I had a vision. I was brought to the village, and I washed his clothes. That would mean,” I swallow, afraid to even speak the words aloud. But it’s the only explanation. This death fits the pattern.

Brennen nods, his expression pure darkness. “The Cutter is behind the disappearing women. She’s the one killing them.”

My mind spins, searching for a reason, any reason, she would do such a thing? “Why?” I ask, breathless. “She cuts every thread at the end. Why would these deaths be any different? Why would it cause my visions?”

Brennen’s eyes dim, his mind going somewhere else, and his jaw tightens. “Because the Cutter isnae meant to decide when someone will die. That is the work of the Weaver and the Measurer. There are laws between them. She told me herself. Laws written by the goddess. Cailleach can only kill outside of her sisters’ will if whoever she’s killing is a threat to the kingdom. But Harold wasnae a threat to the kingdom. Neither were those women.”

“But how do we know this wasn’t measured?” I ask, my mind struggling to keep up. Why would she want to kill innocent people who weren’t a threat? It makes no sense.

“I’ve seen Cailleach cut threads before. She slides her fingers along the length until she feels something. Something to indicate where the end of life was marked, then pinches it off right there.” He pinches his pointer finger and thumb together. “Exactly where the Measurer willed it. But today she found the place Harold’s thread was meant to be severed, and went back up. Inches. Years of life he had left.” His voice shifts, beginning to shake. “Years. She cut that thread before it was meant to be cut. I’m certain of it.” He steps forward, wrapping his hands around my biceps and squeezing.

“I think that’s the cause of your visions. You’re not seeing a natural cause of death, because there isnae one. You’re seeing the moments before the Cutter ends their life. Before she kills them, and they scatter into dust. It’s not someone outside of her power at all who’s severing those women’s threads. It’s Cailleach severing them outside of her sisters’ design.”

I press a trembling hand to my mouth. If what he’s saying is true, how will we ever save these women? These people? The Cutter has endless power. “No. There has to be another explanation,” I say, closing my eyes. It’s naive. Ridiculously so, but I want to believe it so badly. Some ceatharnaich I’m certain Brennen could defeat, but a Fate?

He pulls me against him, his chin resting on top of my head, holding me together. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Once the Weaver and Measurer have done their part, the threads remain in the Cutter’s castle. I’ve stood beneath them, thousands upon thousands of shimmering strings.” I sense the moment his rage shifts to self-blame, his body going taut. “I cannae believe I didn’t think of this before.”

“But why only women until now? And why Harold?”

His voice drops impossibly low. “Harold was a warning to me. To stop asking questions and follow her will. But the women…” he shakes his head. “I dinnae ken. But whatever the reason, it isnae good enough. We have to stop her.”

I nod, but don’t tell Brennen what I’m thinking. About the fear coiling in my gut.

He needs to be careful, because if Cailleach believes he is against her, no one will be safe. Not him, and not his family. There is no balance in the system where Cailleach breaks the rules. She can sever any thread she wishes, even before its time, with no consequences.

Any thread but mine.

65

BEA

Familiar golden sunlight spreads across the floorboards, and I know I'm dreaming before I even hear the humming and tapping. The now-familiar loom comes into focus, but this time, the woman moves, and I see her face.

She is young, stunning, with hair the color of gold and eyes so blue, they look like the depths of the sea. I try to open my mouth to speak. To warn her, but once again, no sound comes out. My feet will not move. As always, I can only watch.

There's a knock at the door, and tears well in my eyes at what I know will come next, except this time, I do not see her death immediately. This time, when she opens the door, the Faerie Pools come into view, unmistakable as the brightest star. Turquoise water sparkles in the sun, waterfalls and springs cascading into one another with tall pines surrounding them.

I hold my breath, straining to see through the doorway, but I still can't tell who is standing outside. The blonde woman smiles warmly. “Did you climb all the way up here just for a visit?” she asks, and suddenly, I know who I’m seeing.

There’s a hut hidden atop the cliffs—shaded by pines. A kind woman lives there. She will help you.

My words to Kenna circle in my mind. This has to be the woman I sent her to.

But why am I dreaming of her?

A gloved hand draws a blade across her throat, and I close my eyes. I do not want to see the blood, but I still hear her gasp of surprise, the thud of her body falling to the ground. I struggle to keep my breath steady, reminding myself it’s only a dream.

For now, at least. I have seen her death, but I have not washed her clothes. Hope flickers in my chest. Maybe I can still save her.

My resolve strengthens at the thought. I will save her.

I repeat the words in my head again and again, trying not to think of what I would see before me if I opened my eyes. It's only when I feel the cold air of the river once again that I do.

Brennen is shaking me, his face only inches from mine. “Bea!” he shouts, and I push myself upright, grabbing his arms, needing to hold onto something solid and real.

The edges of his eyes are creased with concern. “Fates, there you are. I couldnae wake you. Was it a vision? Normally, your visions dinnae happen while you sleep,” he says.