Chapter Eleven Laoise #2
“It’s fine.” Sinéad jerked her arm from Laoise’s grasp and put her already bloodstained hand back over the cut. “It’ll stop in a minute.”
“There are bandages in the bathing chamber—”
“I said leave it.”
Laoise stilled at the icy snap of Sinéad’s voice. She allowed herself a brief moment of longing for her anam cló—the ripple of hot scales over sleek muscle; the steady, thrilling pump of vast, leathery wings; the singeing blast of fire in her belly.
Draigs did not need to talk about their feelings.
“I’m sorry if I was sharp with you, just now,” she began, carefully. “But—”
“Are you?” Sinéad finally looked up at Laoise, her azure eyes blazing like the heart of a flame. “Or were you saying exactly what you meant? That I am useless and you may command me as you please?”
Her vehement words shocked Laoise. “Sinéad—”
“Well?” She glared and glared. “Am I good for anything? Or am I just the weak human girl who tires fastest and eats the most and doesn’t know how to fight and—”
“Stop.” Laoise reached out and covered Sinéad’s mouth with her hand.
It was a crude gesture, but effective—Sinéad abruptly shut up.
“You know I do not believe you weak. I certainly do not think you are useless. But you are human. And you have spent nearly a month traveling over rough country without adequate clothing or food. Frankly, it is a wonder you are still alive. I will not risk your health for a reconnaissance mission I can perform in my sleep.”
Abruptly, tears welled in Sinéad’s eyes. She tore away from Laoise, hiding her face as she threw open the sink’s taps and scrubbed the cut on her arm with soap and water.
That had been the wrong thing to say. Apparently.
“I would take you with me if I could, Sinéad. But I plan to fly hard and fast. Once I find Eala, I will observe her movements, count her troops, then ideally return without incident. You will miss nothing but another unpleasant journey. I promise.”
Sinéad dried the now-abraded cut, then briskly wrapped it with the bloody rag. She fumbled with the ends of the bandage; Laoise pushed her trembling fingers away and tied it for her. Sinéad leaned back against the sink and finally said, “I need to see her. With my own eyes.”
“See…? Ah.” Sinéad had been distraught when she learned Eala’s new Treasure had somehow kept her alive.
Laoise had assumed she was simply disheartened by her failure to destroy the wicked princess.
But she was forever underestimating how deeply humans could grieve things beyond their meager control.
“The Twilight Sisters have confirmed it. She lives.”
“But I killed her.”
“No,” Laoise said in confusion. “You did not.”
“I tried. I wanted to. When I plunged those daggers into her chest, I meant it. I wanted her dead more than anything I’ve wanted in my life.
” Sinéad passed a bloody hand over her forehead.
“Now when I sleep, all I see is her. Her blood, arcing over my hands. The surprise on her face, as if until the end she didn’t believe I had it in me. The life fading from her eyes.”
Laoise listened. She had killed before, and only one of those deaths was something she regretted.
Death was a shadow that waited for everyone.
No matter how far you ran or how brightly you burned, it came for everyone in time, slipping silently from the dark to claim what was owed.
Sinéad’s had been a righteous kill; Eala’s death, deserved.
In Laoise’s mind, the only shame was that it hadn’t stuck.
She could not fathom Sinéad’s penitence.
“Don’t you see?” Sinéad continued. “In the end, I am no better than her. Than either of them. Eala, who ripped her maidens’ hearts out for power. And Chandi. Who—”
Sinéad’s voice broke off. And Laoise thought, There it is at last.
“Who betrayed you?”
“She betrayed herself. She betrayed her values for an easy solution. She betrayed the truth for a deception—she lost the difference between right and wrong. By killing Eala, I fear I am no better than either of them.” Sinéad’s fingers curled into tight little fists.
“I need to see her. I need to see them. I need to see that I am on the right side of this—that they are worse than me. Or rather, that I can be better than them.”
“Hush.” Laoise caught Sinéad’s hands, uncurling her fists. “You are nothing like either of them. You saw a chance to end something before it started—you trusted your instincts and fought like a warrior. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Except my own frail, human body,” Sinéad said with bitterness. “Otherwise you would let me join you.”
Laoise relented. Perhaps she was growing soft in her old age.
Or perhaps she could not stomach that Sinéad felt so far removed from her own potential because of the way she was made.
Iron could hit just as hard as steel; quartz could shine just as brightly as diamond.
Strength was forged in the soul, not the body.
“By all accounts Eala’s army moves slowly and stops often,” Laoise allowed. “Perhaps there is no harm in waiting a week. Two at most. You will eat regularly and sleep often. You will regain your strength. If you are fit enough by then, you may join me. But if you are not, you must promise to stay.”
“Thank you.” Sinéad flung herself at Laoise without warning, throttling her in an embrace.
The cut on her wrist broke open, smearing warm blood on Laoise’s neck.
She was too thin—her ribs pressed into Laoise’s torso.
Faint human smells Laoise wasn’t sure she’d ever grow accustomed to wafted from her hair. “You won’t regret it.”
“Eat.” Laoise laughed a little as she returned the other woman’s embrace. “Sleep. And for gods’ sake, take a bath.”