Page 158 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

And yet those years wasted are nothing.

Not when Bea has suffered for over a century, bound to this Fate’s damned river, for nothing.

I was going to kill her for nothing.

I pull her roughly against my chest.

The sobs return, and I lift her tired body, pulling her close and carrying her into the tent. I lay her down on the bedroll, stroking her hair, whispering my apologies. For everything I’ve done to her. For everything I haven't.

“What does this mean, Brennen?” She finally asks, her voice shaking. “Why would Cailleach target me like this? Just for removing the clothes from the river to save someone I loved? It wasn’t my place, but does that crime justify everything I’ve endured?”

“No,” I rasp. “Nothing justifies even a second of what you've endured,” I say, the heart I thought was already broken fracturing even more. I thread my fingers through her hair, holding her close as she grieves the life that was stolen from her.

I do not care if she forgets to resist and takes my magic.

She can have it all. Every last piece of me. My tattered heart. My soul. My blood.

My vengeance.

Vow or not, I will destroy Cailleach for what she did, not just to one woman I loved, but two.

The realization hits me like an arrow in the chest, unstoppable. Breathtaking. But I cannae deny it. I love the woman in my arms in a way I cannae even fathom. This beautiful, tormented woman in my arms, whom I would kill for. Die for.

“I will take care of you, mo chridhe,” I whisper, holding her tight until her shuddering breaths still. We lie together for a long time in silence. Hours, maybe, both of us trying to understand what has happened. How things could have gone so terribly, terribly wrong.

“Thank you for asking me,” she says after a long while. “For using the curse. I’m— I’m sorry I fought you. I was afraid to relive it all. That I'd see myself hurting them.”

I tilt her head up to meet mine. “I think deep down, I didnae think you were capable. I think I knew there was an explanation we hadn't thought of.” I cup her cheek, my unbreakable oath peeking out from beneath the curve of her chin.

I stare at it, a new realization crashing over me. A bright star in the darkest, stormiest of nights.

“Bea.” Her eyes meet mine, the purest blue-grey. “My vow was to destroy the monster who murdered Marsaili.” Even through the pain of this revelation, of everything that’s happened, relief wraps around my heart.

Her mouth opens, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “You don’t— You don’t have to kill me?” she asks, so tentative, it’s as if she’s terrified to hope.

I press my forehead against hers, our noses touching. “I wouldn’t have been able to,” my voice a rough whisper, because I need her to know I mean every word, “even if it meant Ban-dia a’ Bhàis would own my soul. But she willnae. I will keep my vow if it’s the last thing I ever do. Cailleach will burn for this.”

Bea looks up at me with eyes so full of trust, it almost breaks me.

“I'm sorry for everything you've lost," she says, reaching up to cup my cheek, and I shake my head. Even now, when she’s just learned her life was stolen from her, she’s worried for me. “I'll help you, however I can, for what she's done to you.”

“No. For what she’s done to you. She’ll pay in blood for it.”

She opens her eyes, holding my gaze. “Yes, she will,” she says.

“My strong, brave lark,” I say, and before I can stop myself, my lips are on hers. Warm, eager lips that fit with my own as if they were created as a pair, meant to fit only with one another.

My heart stops beating, my palm igniting with white-hot fire. Her lips are softer than a petal from a primrose, and suddenly, I dinnae understand how I have survived without feeling them before. I would give her every morsel of my magic a thousand times over before sacrificing feeling them again. I dinnae need any of it.

I only need her.

I breathe her in for one long moment before, all at once, her arms are around my neck, and my hands are in her hair. We tangle together, our bodies melding as if our joining was woven into our very threads.

Bea moans, and it is my undoing. Her lips part for me, and I claim them, my tongue exploring her mouth like a man starved for centuries. And I have been. Starved. Utterly famished.

How have I lived this half-life, so verra hungry for something I didnae even know I was missing? A groan leaves my throat as her hands slide down my arms. Delicate, stained hands, covered in blood she did not spill.

A fire erupts in my chest, the knowledge that anyone ever dared hurt this woman stoking flames so hot, I fear it will light the glen on fire, spreading until the entire kingdom is burned to nothing but ash and stone.