Page 145 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

Theo rubs his scruff. “Alright. What do you need me at the Hollow Hill for, then?”

My shoulders loosen a fraction in relief at his acceptance of my accusations against the Cutter. “Bea said there's a woman who needs help. She believes she’s going to be murdered. We have to warn her.” I pull out the letter in my pocket. “I need you to find a guardian named Garrick. Give him this. Everything he needs to know to find the woman is inside. Last I saw him, he was headed to The Faerie Mounds, but I dinnae ken if he'll be there still. If he's not, you'll have to go on to Dùn an t-Snàth. He's stationed at Cailleach’s castle, but you cannae go there. There's a tavern he frequents. I've drawn it on a map for you.”

Theo doesn’t take it. “Send me to warn the woman. All this,” he points at the map, “even with my dàn of the traveler, it will take time to get to Hollow Hill. Longer to get to Dùn an t-Snàth, if he’s not there. And then we have to find the woman. Where is she?”

I put the map away. “The Faerie Pools.”

“Aye. That settles it, then. I can make it there on my own. Sending me alone will give the woman far more warning.”

I lean back, assessing him. He’s strong. Built like a soldier, even, but he has no training. “It’s no safe. And it’s verra possible you’ll run into trouble.”

Theo ignores me. “Anna can keep the tavern running while I’m gone. If what you’ve said is true, this woman might not have much time.”

“You'd really do that? What if whoever is coming for the woman finds you there?”

“I dinnae care. If I can save her life…” He trails off, his eyes going misty. “I couldnae help Harold. Didn't even try to stop them, and I will regret it until the day I die. With my every breath. He was like a father to me, and I did nothing.” His voice cracks, and he closes his eyes.

Emotion swells in my throat. “I feel the same. But you couldnae have stopped it. You wouldn't be here now if you'd tried. Neither would I.”

“Some things are worth dying for,” he says, and his words cause my chest to tighten. Harold had said the same thing. Were these two men—men who have never faced battle—braver souls than I, believing in something so strongly, they would give their lives for it?

No, I realize, they're not. I would do the same for the ones I love. For my beliefs. But I think maybe, until now, I've held the wrong ones.

“Aye. Go to her, then. If you should find her well, tell her to destroy her dedication dàn. It’s what connects us to the magic of the kingdom. She’ll lose any power she has, but she’ll be safe from the Cutter severing her thread before her time. Tell her of Bea’s dream. She's sitting at her loom on a sunny day. There's a knock on the door, and she answers. She smiles. And then her throat is slit. Whoever plans to do it, the woman knows them. She's not safe from anyone.”

Theo nods, a steely expression spreading across his face. “I'll leave tomorrow.”

“Be careful,” I say, but I dinnae think I need to warn him. He already knows. It's evident in his stiff posture, his rapid breaths.

“After I warn her, what do we do?” he asks, and I know he's not asking about what to do with the woman. He's asking about the Cutter.

I pause, in complete disbelief that I’m about to say the words I have thought, but not yet said aloud.

“I’ve turned it around in my mind a hundred ways, but I dinnae think Cailleach will stop. She will seek power until the realm’s power is bled dry, I'm certain of it. So after we warn the woman, we find Cailleach’s thread,” I say, my voice, low and sharp, “and we sever it ourselves.”

67

BEA

Brennen has only been gone a short while when I’m alerted to the sound of footsteps approaching through the woods.

“That was quick. Did he agree to help—” My dàn of warning flares, and I turn toward the pines, trailing off as a man appears. A man I've seen before.

Kenna's husband Hamish stands before me, his cheeks red with fury and a long dagger glinting in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice catching. He stalks forward, malice etched into every line of his face, and I scramble back.

“I know you sent my wife away.” He flips the dagger in his hand, and it smacks with a thud against his palm. “Do you think I'm stupid? I've been searching for her, but no one has seen her since she was sent here. Did you think I would give up?”

I do not answer, the only sound in the glen the river and my ragged breaths. My heart pounds against my ribs, so hard I fear they might split wide open. Every instinct screams for me to run, but where would I go? Two dragon lengths away? Fleeing will do nothing, so I straighten my spine and choose to fight. “I never saw your wife. I don't know⁠—”

“Stop lying to me!” he roars. Spit flies into my face, his breath rancid as he leans forward, stopping only inches away. “She is my wife, and you will tell me where she went. Do you understand me?”

“I never saw her⁠—”

The blade is pressed beneath my breastbone before I can blink, its sharp tip already cutting through my dress and piercing my skin. I gasp in pain, taking a step back, but he grabs my arm, yanking me forward.

The blade pushes deeper, and he twists it, then yanks it out. Hot blood blooms around the wound, making my dress stick to my stomach.