66. Brennen
brENNEN
The guardians are in good spirits when I arrive at the tavern, likely still riding the high of Harold's execution. My blood runs hotter with every mug raised in celebration, every cheer, but I force myself to smile and nod to them as I enter.
If they weren’t watching me before, they certainly are now.
Jamie meets my eyes, his expression guarded.
“Good work finding the book,” I say. Speaking the words aloud nearly makes me vomit, but as much as I loathe it, I have to play the Cutter’s game if I want my family to survive.
Jamie smiles, clearly relieved by my praise. Maybe he hadn’t known it was me at all when he’d seen someone outside Harold’s house in the night. Maybe he’d simply found someone sneaking around so late to be suspicious. The thought gives me hope.
“Can we get you a round of ale?” he asks, pointing to their nearly empty glasses, and I hold my hands up.
“No. Going straight to whiskey tonight,” I say.
“The Washwoman giving you trouble?” he asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively, and fury churns in my chest.
I give him a tight nod. “You have no idea,” I say under my breath as I head to the bar where Theo is furiously drying the inside of a glass. He doesn't even look at me as I approach, and I can only guess why.
“I'll be needing a dram of what's in the back,” I say, my voice firm, and he looks up. I flick my eyes toward the door, hoping he can see the regret in my face. The seriousness of what's happening.
“Aye,” he says, putting the glass down. “Follow me, then.”
The storeroom is damp and cold as we enter, and I shiver. Theo turns around, eyebrows raised and arms crossed.
“Did you know they were coming for Harold?” he asks. The look he gives me would bring weaker men to their knees.
“Of course I didnae ken,” I say, my words a harsh whisper. “You think I wouldn’t have warned you? Warned Harold?”
He rubs the back of his neck, the steel in his gaze easing a bit. “It cannae be by chance they found it.”
“It wasn’t. I was seen visiting Harold. I didnae ken they would come for him, but it’s still my fault.”
Theo exhales, closing his eyes. “I’m sure you didnae—”
I hold up a hand. “I don’t need your forgiveness or your excuses. What I need is your help.”
His spine straightens. “My help? With what?”
My eyes flick to his shoulder where I know a dàn hides. “Your dàn of the traveler. How accurate is it?”
He crosses his arms. “It can lead me anywhere in the kingdom I wish to go. I only need to think of my destination.”
The hope I’ve been holding onto grows a fraction. “Hollow Hill,” I say. “Have you heard of it?”
He lifts his chin. “Aye. What is it then? You need me to lead you there?”
“No. I need you to go there.”
“I dinnae understand,” he says, voice hesitant.
“The women who are disappearing,” I say, leaning forward, keeping my voice quiet. “They're dead, just as we thought. But its no someone else with magic in the kingdom killing them. It's the Cutter.”
Theo's mouth cracks open in shock, his face paling. “Why would she do that?”
“I dinnae ken, but Bea’s been having visions of the moments before the Cutter severs their threads. She was there at the Tavern before Harold was killed.”
“It cannae be—”
“But it is.” I stop him, holding his stare.
“Bea was brought to the tavern. We thought we were looking for a woman. But it was Harold’s clothes that came down the river, and the Cutter severed his string above where the Measurer marked it.
It followed the exact same pattern as Bea’s other visions.
The Cutter has to be the one behind it.”
Theo begins to pace. “And what if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not. I’ve been to the castle. Walked beneath the Cutter’s threads. They are bound to her. Guarded not only by her most trusted guardians but also by her dragon, Athair. I dinnae believe it’s possible someone else has stolen them. Harold’s thread was cut, and his clothes were washed.”
Theo rubs his scruff. “Alright. What do you need me at the Hollow Hill for, then?”
My shoulders loosen a fraction in relief at his acceptance of my accusations against the Cutter.
“Bea said there's a woman who needs help. She believes she’s going to be murdered. We have to warn her.” I pull out the letter in my pocket.
“I need you to find a guardian named Garrick.
Give him this. Everything he needs to know to find the woman is inside.
Last I saw him, he was headed to The Faerie Mounds, but I dinnae ken if he'll be there still.
If he's not, you'll have to go on to Dùn an t-Snàth.
He's stationed at Cailleach’s castle, but you cannae go there.
There's a tavern he frequents. I've drawn it on a map for you.”
Theo doesn’t take it. “Send me to warn the woman. All this,” he points at the map, “even with my dàn of the traveler, it will take time to get to Hollow Hill. Longer to get to Dùn an t-Snàth, if he’s not there. And then we have to find the woman. Where is she?”
I put the map away. “The Faerie Pools.”
“Aye. That settles it, then. I can make it there on my own. Sending me alone will give the woman far more warning.”
I lean back, assessing him. He’s strong. Built like a soldier, even, but he has no training. “It’s no safe. And it’s verra possible you’ll run into trouble.”
Theo ignores me. “Anna can keep the tavern running while I’m gone. If what you’ve said is true, this woman might not have much time.”
“You'd really do that? What if whoever is coming for the woman finds you there?”
“I dinnae care. If I can save her life…” He trails off, his eyes going misty. “I couldnae help Harold. Didn't even try to stop them, and I will regret it until the day I die. With my every breath. He was like a father to me, and I did nothing.” His voice cracks, and he closes his eyes.
Emotion swells in my throat. “I feel the same. But you couldnae have stopped it. You wouldn't be here now if you'd tried. Neither would I.”
“Some things are worth dying for,” he says, and his words cause my chest to tighten. Harold had said the same thing. Were these two men—men who have never faced battle—braver souls than I, believing in something so strongly, they would give their lives for it?
No, I realize, they're not. I would do the same for the ones I love. For my beliefs. But I think maybe, until now, I've held the wrong ones.
“Aye. Go to her, then. If you should find her well, tell her to destroy her dedication dàn. It’s what connects us to the magic of the kingdom.
She’ll lose any power she has, but she’ll be safe from the Cutter severing her thread before her time.
Tell her of Bea’s dream. She's sitting at her loom on a sunny day.
There's a knock on the door, and she answers.
She smiles. And then her throat is slit.
Whoever plans to do it, the woman knows them. She's not safe from anyone.”
Theo nods, a steely expression spreading across his face. “I'll leave tomorrow.”
“Be careful,” I say, but I dinnae think I need to warn him. He already knows. It's evident in his stiff posture, his rapid breaths.
“After I warn her, what do we do?” he asks, and I know he's not asking about what to do with the woman. He's asking about the Cutter.
I pause, in complete disbelief that I’m about to say the words I have thought, but not yet said aloud.
“I’ve turned it around in my mind a hundred ways, but I dinnae think Cailleach will stop. She will seek power until the realm’s power is bled dry, I'm certain of it. So after we warn the woman, we find Cailleach’s thread,” I say, my voice, low and sharp, “and we sever it ourselves.”