Chapter Nine #2
Erin placed a hand on her arm, steadying her.
“He was furious, but it wasn’t his rage that cut me; it was his disappointment. His heartbreak. And it was justified. I believed the worst of him. Without ever giving him the benefit of a doubt.”
“Ye were hurting,” Erin said softly. “Ye loved each other fiercely. That kind of love, it can turn to fire if it’s wounded.”
Ailith nodded, eyes burning. “I see it in his face today. He’s changed. There was a hollowness in him I’d never seen before. And I wonder if I was the one who carved it into him.”
Erin’s grip on her arm tightened slightly. “What did he say?”
Ailith wiped at her cheek with the edge of her sleeve. “That I didn’t give him the chance to explain. That I believed a lie without fighting for him. And he’s right. That is what I did.”
A heavy silence settled between them, filled only by the quiet gurgles of the bairn, whose presence felt like a tether to something good.
“It is finally done,” Ailith whispered, voice breaking. “He will never trust me again. And rightly so.”
Erin took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “Ailith. Will ye fight for him?”
“I-I cannae, there is nothing left to be said. We can never recover from th-this,” Ailith stuttered. “It is best if I move forward and not look back.”
“The Ailith I ken does nae give up so easily,” Erin pressed on. “My strong sister is a survivor, a fighter. He is yer one and only Ailith, why will ye nae fight for him? Show him how ye truly feel.”
A realization hit her that she had to make things right.
Had to show Hendry that she loved him more than anything in her life.
Even if he never forgave her, she would seek him out and do her best to ensure he understood how sorry she was.
Yes. She would fight for him. Fight so that joy returned to his eyes.
So that he could continue on, to live life again without the burden of her betrayal.
She looked toward the path where Hendry had disappeared after the execution.
“I’ll fight for him this time. Even if he doesn’t want me to.”
That night, sleeping on the floor of her sister’s humble home, with Teller at her side, Ailith tried to formulate a plan. A way to do right by Hendry. But exhaustion from lack of sleep and the happenings of the day dragged her into a deep slumber.
Five days later
Despite the bitter wind that nipped at her cheeks and tugged at the hem of her cloak, the sun shone with unexpected brilliance. Its golden light spilling across the frost-kissed earth. Ailith stepped into the morning, a basket of feed in hand and a soft resolve settling deeper in her chest.
It was two days after the executions.
A day when death still lingered in the minds of the villagers, but for Ailith, it marked something else. A beginning.
Her path to healing had to start somewhere, and oddly enough, it began with the grumpy gray donkey now blinking at her from the gate.
The creature, stubborn and shaggy, had been her first investment since the storm that had torn her heart wide open.
She’d used a portion of the coin Hendry had sent her, money she’d ignored out of pride, and purchased the donkey and a newly crafted cart from a local man, Erin’s husband had vouched for.
It had felt strange, freeing even, to finally buy something without fear of having to sell it back.
She’d gone to the sale with her brother-in-law by her side, his easy haggling and sharp eye ensuring she got a fair price. For once, she hadn’t felt like someone being rescued, but like someone reclaiming her place in the world.
Now the donkey snorted as she approached, tail flicking lazily. Teller bounded around in excited circles, clearly believing the new addition was meant to be his personal playmate.
“Ye’ll scare the poor beast half to madness,” she said with a quiet laugh, pulling a carrot from her apron pocket.
The donkey took it with measured dignity, chewing slowly while giving Teller a side-eye of supreme disinterest.
“Told ye,” Ailith murmured as she laid a thick blanket over the donkey’s back. “Not everything wants to chase ye through the fields.”
Once the animal had drunk its fill and inspected every corner of the trough with great solemnity, she led it to the small shelter near the edge of her property.
The same pen where her old donkey had once dozed through long winters.
She latched the gate, watching the animal nudge the straw as it settled in.
Inside, the cottage was quiet, warm with the scent of dried herbs and the faint crackle of the fire.
She gathered her embroidery from the table, a half-finished floral pattern she’d been commissioned to stitch into a set of handkerchiefs.
Since her last visit to the village market, orders had tripled.
If she kept up the pace, she’d have enough to see her comfortably through the winter and perhaps even spring.
It wasn’t wealth.
But it was hers.
A scratching at the door drew her gaze. She opened it and raised a brow. Teller sat there, tail wagging, ears perked with exaggerated innocence. “The donkey still wants nothing to do with ye.”
The dog gave her a long-suffering stare, the kind that somehow managed to look both accusing and expectant.
“Oh, very well,” she sighed, smiling. “A treat for yer trouble.”
She retrieved the meaty bone she’d saved on the windowsill to keep cool and handed it over to the now triumphant hound. Teller retreated to his favorite place in front of the hearth, tail wagging furiously as he gnawed contentedly.
Ailith returned to her chair, needle in hand, cloth stretched between her fingers, but her thoughts didn’t rest on thread or patterns. They drifted back to Hendry.
To his silence. To the hardness in his eyes. To the way he’d pronounced judgment like a man no longer tethered to the world. Her needle paused mid-stitch.
Could she reach him now? After all that had been said.
She didn’t know.
But the thought of doing nothing, of letting that distance calcify into something permanent, was unbearable.
Ailith glanced out the window to the sun, still shining stubbornly despite the cold.