61. Brennen
brENNEN
Bea is still on the other side of the river when I leave the tent in the morning, my head pounding from lack of sleep just as much as from my mind turning and twisting all night.
She sits with her back to me, arms wrapped around her legs, her head on her knees.
If I hadn't already been sure she regrets her past before, I certainly am now.
It's in every shuddering breath she takes, the stoop of her spine, and I wonder if, could she die, her guilt might be the thing to finally kill her. She does not respond when I call her name. Doesnae even flinch.
“Please talk to me. It wasnae your fault,” I say, but she doesn't answer, nor does she answer as I speak to her throughout the day. It’s as if she's not even here, eyes staring blankly at her feet, and after hours of watching her silently cry, I cannot handle it anymore. Every time I speak, her cries grow more pained, as if my verra presence is causing her agony, and it makes me feel like I’m dying.
“I'll give you some time, but I’ll be back,” I say, heading to the tavern. I could use a dram. Maybe two. And a moment away from this place to think.
I sit down at the bar, waiting for Theo to notice.
“Something troubling you?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing as he pulls out a mug for ale.
“Whiskey,” I say, stopping him before he can pour the drink. His brown eyes narrow in concern, and he looks around at the guardians casually enjoying their own drinks around the tavern.
“Good stuff’s in the back,” he says, inclining his head. “Come with me.”
I dinnae argue, following close behind him until we enter the storeroom. He pulls two chairs from against the wall, searching the stacks of bottles until he finds the one he wants and uncorks it.
He blows the dust from two glasses, then pours several fingers. “What's happened?” he asks, sitting down.
I sit and take the glass from his hand, immediately downing the contents. Theo leans back.
“That bad?” he asks.
“Aye.” I stare into my empty glass. “I told Bea she killed Marsaili. That she took the woman I loved from me, and I think it broke her.”
Theo refills my glass, then takes a long sip from his own. “That’s who you lost, then? A woman? At Bea’s hands?”
“My geallta. When Bea escaped six years ago,” I say, following my confession with a long pull from my dram. “Would a murderer react that way? With complete and utter devastation?”
“I dinnae know the answer to that, but if it helps, you're not alone in your doubts. I've always felt she was misunderstood.
“I have to kill her.” I hold out my palm, and Theo stares at my blood-sworn oath.
I watch as the pieces connect in his mind.
The reason I’m really here, apart from the Cutter and her mission.
“I have no choice. But even after everything she's done, I dinnae think she deserves it.” I look down at my hand. “There is right and wrong. Justice. It’s how I have lived my entire life. I’ve always been so certain of it.
But with Bea, it doesn’t feel like there’s a clear answer.
Is it justice for her to be killed for something she never meant to do?
She's suffered for more years than Marsaili would have even lived.
That has to count for something, doesn't it? At what point does the suffering become too much?”
Theo exhales, his expression as conflicted as I feel. “Maybe killing her will be a mercy.”
The words slice sharper than a knife directly into my chest, and I take another sip, holding the whiskey in my mouth to feel the burn. I take another, longer drink, rubbing the back of my neck.
“That's what she says. She wants to rest after we put the kingdom right again. After we learn who's killing the women, but—” I meet his eyes. “I dinnae know if I can be the one to do it.”
Pity fills Theo’s eyes, and I look away, unable to bear it. “The oath is unbreakable, isn't it? The black running through your veins… That's what it means?”
“Aye.” I take another long drink.
“If you don't kill Bea, your soul will belong to Ban-dia a’ Bhàis. You’ll serve her forever, never to find peace.”
“Hence why I'm drinking,” I say, tilting back my glass and swallowing the rest of the amber liquid. I grab the bottle to fill it again.
“You care about her,” Theo says, studying me.
“I don't,” I say, but I know it isn’t the truth. I’ve told Bea that much already. What I really should have said is, I do, but I shouldn’t.
“Brennen.” Theo leans forward, putting a hand on my arm, stopping me from downing another full glass. “It's alright to care.”
I shrug off his arm and take another sip. “No. I dinnae think it is. Not for her.”
“What would Marsaili say?" he asks, and my throat burns. Not from the whiskey, but pure sorrow.
“Marsaili was the most forgiving woman I've ever met. Always had an excuse for why people behaved how they did.”
He tilts his head. “Do you think she'd want you to suffer like this? To be unhappy? Now, I didnae ken her, but I dinnae think she would.”
I shake my head, blood warm from the alcohol. I dinnae want to think of the Washwoman right now. I dinnae want to think of Marsaili or my vow to avenge her. For just a moment, I dinnae want to think about anything. What I want is to forget.
I reach for the bottle, my glass once again empty, but Theo takes it away.
“All right. Let's get you an ale. Take a break from the whiskey.” He inclines his head back toward the main room.
I stand, grumbling under my breath, but I follow behind anyway. Ale will get the job done as well. I'll just need more of it.
Harold is in his seat at the bar when we return, and he grins when he sees us. “A round for everyone! On me,” he says, popping up and slapping Theo on the back.
“For everyone?” I ask, wondering if I can convince Harold to make it a round of whiskey.
“Aye, for everyone. We’re celebrating! My oldest grandson just told me they’re having another bairn. I'm gonna be a great-granda again!”
“Congratulations.” I extend a hand to Harold. “We'll drink to their health, then. Theo, whiskey for me.”
Theo ignores me, handing me an ale before passing around mugs to the rest of the bar. The patrons raise their glasses in a toast, and with my mind slightly fuzzy and blood warm from the alcohol, I decide to join them. Because this is what life should be about.
Camaraderie. New beginnings.
And so, not wanting to darken this moment or call the attention of misfortune, I take another drink, and force myself to forget everything but the here and now.