Page 29 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“Stop!” I beg, images now flashing through my mind that threaten to bring the bile in my empty stomach up my throat. The glint of a blade. Blood on my hands.

“Tell me,” he growls, his demand rumbling through my body.

Somewhere beneath the screams, I wonder if he’s holding his dagger. Maybe this time, he’ll use it. I hope he does. The pain of a blade is predictable. Sharp and grounding, and so much more tolerable than this phantom, magical agony skating through my flesh and blood and bone.

“Tell me why you murdered those people without reason,” he continues, unyielding. “Tell me why you burned them alive. Slit their throats.” The fury in his low tone grows, pushing into my skin until it is hard to breathe. I can feel the tension in his muscles, even with my back turned. Blood trickles from my nostrils, the pain growing so unbearable, I explode.

“Stop!” I scream. I wipe my nose, then sit, turning to him. I straighten my spine, forcing my voice to steady. “No matter how you ask, I won’t tell you, so if you’re going to hurt me, just get on with it,” I say.

His mouth closes, jaw going tight. His eyes are so dark, so utterly furious, I’m certain he will make me regret defying him. I brace for a kick or a shove.

For whatever form of torture he thinks will break me.

It never comes.

Shock ripples through me as he turns, stalking back toward his supplies.

“I told you I wouldnae harm you,” he says through gritted teeth.

“But you wish to kill me?” I ask, my words raspy with disbelief.

He pauses, and his voice drops. “It’s no a wish. I will kill you. But when I do, it will be swift.”

My throat tightens at his words. Not if. When.

He speaks of ending my life as if he’s discussing the culling of a beast, a predator stalking a village, rabid and starving. Like my death is necessary to keep others safe.

That’s not how I’d like to go to my rest, either. Not because of the Fates, and not because of this guardian.

When I die, it will be because I completed the spell. Because I paid my penance through my own dedication, and set myself free.

His footsteps retreat, and even though his threat of killing me still circles through my mind, I relax a fraction. He’s keeping his word not to harm me. For now, at least.

But everyone has their limits.

I know that better than most.

I lie back down and close my eyes, but even as the screams and pain fade away, sleep evades me.

All I can focus on is the furious rage threatening to choke me. I tunnel inside myself, hoping that if I become smaller, less of his anger will be able to penetrate.

Lolly appears over the ridge again, crying out—the only thing that could make me open my eyes. She dives down, her call desperate. She swoops again and again, her long neck swiveling from side to side as if searching for something.

The scrape of metal tells me the Dìdeanair has drawn his weapon, and I laugh. Does he think he can take on a massive dragon with a single sword?

“Did the queens not tell you about my other guardian?” I ask, and the shockwave of fury I feel from him takes my breath away. I consider this for a moment. Why wouldn't the Fates warn him?

“You can put your sword away,” I say. She can't see me—us.” I sit, picking up nearby stones and beginning to make a cairn. “At least, I'm pretty certain.”

“It's never landed here?” Brennen’s words are sharp, calculating, and I wonder how long he’s been in the Queen’s army. For all I know, he was born and raised in it, based on the way he speaks and holds himself.

“She. And never.” It’s not technically a lie. Lolly landed on the ridge, not within the valley, and even then it was only once. “I think she’s meant to eat me should I escape again. So, An Àrd,” I say with a slight curtsey of mock respect, Brennen’s nervous energy giving me a surge of courage. Of life. “If the Fates have placed her here to keep me from running, what do they need you for?”

11

BEA

Brennen’s anger doesn’t fade as he sets up his ridiculously large tent just beyond the hollow log, his mare set free to graze the forest as she pleases. It gives me a sense of satisfaction, proving that I was telling the truth about how far my chain would allow me to go, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the pain still throbbing in my ankle.