69. Bea
BEA
Istare after Brennen long after he disappears, my heart torn in two, tears stinging my eyes.
I don’t think I’ve felt sorrow this potent since my childhood friend Emma’s passing several decades ago.
I hadn't expected it, the day the wind had called me, and it had been her face that appeared in the water.
She died of old age, the best way to go to your rest. Still, it had fractured something inside my chest when a woman I recognized from another life stared back at me in the river, her features both familiar and not, aged in a way I never would experience.
I turn toward the fire, Brennen's carving knife glinting beside it along with a block of wood, and I stand, brushing off my dress. He's already started the carving, one side whittled into the smooth arc of a bird’s breast, the other still blocky and angular. I pick it up, looking into the After where Saoirse’s soul now rests, thinking of the little lamb in her pocket.
She'd asked me to make it a friend. Brennen's words echo in my head. They’d been so heavy with regret. Is that what he’s thinking about now? That he let his littlest sister down, and will never be able to make it right?
I grab the knife.
This won’t help. I know it won’t. I can feel his devastation pulsing through the forest, so intense, I know nothing will make it right. But still, I have to do something.
Holding back tears, I settle beside the fire.
My hands shake as I scrape the blade across the wood.
It's softer than I expected, and the blade slips, lancing into the meat of my thumb.
I hiss in pain, placing the small cut in my mouth until the bleeding stops.
With my dàn of healing, it only takes a few moments, and I wipe off the blood and begin again, more gently this time.
The night is quiet, heavy, and wind rustles through the heather like a dirge, as if the river and her glen are mourning alongside us.
As if the goddesses themselves are. Lolly circles the stars, staying close, and I’m grateful.
Even if Brennen wishes to be alone, I do not.
Not when it feels as if the foundation of the earth is shattering.
Dragon fire—that’s what killed Saoirse, and it’s not a coincidence. First Harold. Now this.
The Cutter is responsible.
Fury slashes through my sorrow, and I scrape too hard, almost cutting off one of the lamb’s ears, ruining the carving just as Brennen has for the last several months. I stop for a moment, taking a slow breath to steady my hands.
The time for anger will come, but not now, when Brennen needs me.
I bite my lip, focusing, and to my surprise, a shape begins to emerge. Curved edges, four uneven and somewhat blocky legs. A head, too large for the body.
I carve out two ears, then narrow the nose, and by the time I finish, I think I've done it. It’s not perfect by any means. The lamb doesn't look realistic, or even good, but you can tell it's a lamb, at the very least.
I turn it around in my hands, marveling at the little carving. I think Saoirse would be happy with it, even if it’s not as good as the one Brennen made.
Thinking his name sends a jolt of worry through my blood.
He’s been gone for hours. Over half the day.
What is he doing out there in his sorrow?
Has he left to return to his siblings? Am I only feeling the remnants of the pain he left behind?
I’d go to my family if it were me. Destroy their dedication dàn and disappear.
I scan the treeline. Listen for movement within the forest. My chain sits heavy on my ankle, taunting me. Reminding me that I cannot follow him. Even if he shouldn't be alone right now.
And he shouldn’t. Not after experiencing such a great loss. Especially when I’m certain he's blaming himself.
I stand, my hands tired from the carving, and grab a thin, buoyant piece of wood, then kneel. The tears I’ve fought to hold in fall as I place the little lamb on top of it.
It feels like too little, this gift to a child who deserved a full, happy life.
“I'm so sorry, sweet Saoirse,” I whisper. “I'll try my best to take care of him and the rest of your family, too.” I place the wood plank in the river and am about to release it when a hand on my shoulder stops me.
“What's that?” Brennen’s voice is strained.
I exhale, relief that he’s returned wrapping around my heart.
I turn to look at him. To make sure he’s okay.
His hair is wild, as if he’s run his hands through it a thousand times, and his face is lined with grief and exhaustion, but he appears to be uninjured.
He’s staring at the piece of wood in my hands intently, his eyebrows lowered, and suddenly, I fear I crossed a line.
I hadn’t asked Brennen how he would like to honor his sister.
Maybe this isn’t what he envisioned. Maybe he planned on doing it himself.
I hold it up, keeping my voice soft. “I know it’s not perfect, but I tried to carve—”
“A lamb,” he finishes for me, his voice cracking. He closes his eyes and squeezes my shoulder. “You carved a lamb for Saoirse. So hers could have a friend.” He reaches out, caressing the crude angles with his fingers. “Thank you,” he rasps, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
I nod, my throat so full of emotion, I don't think I can speak without falling apart completely.
Brennen kneels behind me, his chin resting on top of my head.
His chest presses against my back as he wraps his arms around me and lays his hands on mine.
His magic immediately floods my body, but I do not allow it to settle.
I push it back into his skin, and it listens.
Our fingers linger on the wood for what feels like an eternity, as if holding onto it might change something.
As if it can undo what’s already been done, even though we both know it cannot. I don’t push him, giving him all the time he needs to mourn.
“I dinnae think I can let go,” Brennen finally says.
I close my eyes, the pain in his voice worse than a thousand cuts of a blade. “Do you want me to do it?” I ask. His breath shakes as he exhales, and he nods, sliding his hands back just slightly so that they no longer touch the wood.
“Rest well, Saoirse,” I say, then with a silent prayer, I set the wood adrift in the moonlight.
Brennen wraps his arms around my waist, clinging to me as if I am the only thing that can hold him up, and I bring my hands to his biceps.
If I must be a pillar for him, I will. I will become whatever he needs me to be.
We cling to one another as the wood slowly floats downstream, and as the After accepts our offering, I close my eyes.
We kneel together in silence for a long time, our breaths syncing, his chest warm against my back. In the heavy sorrow, there's the smallest hint of peace.
Carving the lamb changed nothing. Brennen’s sister is still gone, and nothing will ever fill that hole.
But at least he’s not alone. This man, who shoulders the heaviest of weights.
Who carries the burdens of those he loves.
Who holds himself to the highest standard.
He has allowed me a glimpse of vulnerability that, even a week ago, I would never have believed.
And even though I could not save her, I have hope my steadiness can be a tourniquet. Something to slow the flow of blood from the wound left behind when you lose someone you love.
After what feels like hours, Brennen finally speaks. “I cannae stay here,” he says, his voice rumbling through his chest into my back. The words sting, but I do not let my shoulders fall. I will not add to his sorrow. “My family will need me.”
“I understand,” I say, but my voice falters. After what he lost, I should be grateful he came back to say goodbye. “You don't have to explain.”
He turns me around, cupping my cheek. He searches my eyes for a long moment.
“Aye. I do. Because I want to take you with me.”
My mouth opens in shock, my breath hitching. Take me with him?
“I’ve thought it through from every angle.
I willnae leave you here when the Cutter may come for you.
When others may, as well. Even if they cannae kill you, they can hurt you.
We’ll find my family and flee. Destroy our dedication dàn.
Find a ceatharnaich group and join their cause.
But Bea,” his eyes are sad as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I know you never meant to hurt anyone. But I willnae be able to live with myself if I help you escape and the curse comes for your mind, and I dinnae think you could either. If you find yourself lost to the madness once more and kill someone else, even if you dinnae mean to.”
Shame burns through my blood, the hope his confession brought evaporating in seconds. “You'll leave me here, then?”
My control fractures, desperation seeping into my voice. It's always my past that haunts me. My mistakes. And I will never, ever escape them, even if I atone. Even if I would do anything to take it all back.
He brings his other hand up so that he’s cradling my head, swiping his thumb across my cheek.
“No,” he says, fervor in his tone unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
“I said I willnae leave you, and I meant it. Nothing you could say would change how I feel about you. There isnae a single word you could utter that would cause me to see you as anything more than the woman I know you to be. My beautiful, strong, and unbelievably kind lark. But to keep everyone safe, I have to make a plan, and to do that,” he searches my face, desperation etched into the lines around his eyes, “I need you to remember what happened the night they died. I need you to remember what happened, every detail, so I can find a way to keep it from repeating. Can you understand that?”
The screams come all at once, clanging around in my skull, and an agonizing headache accompanies the shrill sound. I close my eyes.
“No.” I try to pull away, but he doesn’t allow it. “Stop! I've tried to remember. You know I've tried!” Panic rises up my throat, choking me. Drowning me. I can feel the heat of blood trickling from my nostrils, and the pain in my head grows indescribably worse.
“I know, Bea.” He slides his hand down, gently grabbing me around my forearm. My eyes open wide as he tightens his grip. “I'm sorry,” he says, his voice shaking, and fear grips my heart.
“No—” I rasp, my vision tunneling. Panic rises within me, a pandemonium of screams and terror.
Brennen’s eyes glisten. He’s holding back tears, I realize. This strong, confident man who always has such tight control of his emotions is breaking, and it nearly destroys me.
“Mo chridhe, I have to do this. I have to know if it will happen again. I have to find a way to keep everyone safe. My family. The people of my village. You.” He closes his eyes in a wince, as if the thought of harm befalling me causes him physical pain.
Even through my panic, I see it. The weight of the entire realm settling on his shoulders.
The marrow-deep responsibility—his absolute need—to do what’s right for everyone, even when it’s impossible.
Because the truth is, even if he will not admit it, I cannot exist within his world.
Not when I’m not certain anyone would ever truly be safe around me outside this glen.
I want to pull away. To turn and run, because he can’t ask this of me.
I may have said I wanted to know why I did it, and part of me does, but really, my lack of memory has been a gift.
The only way I’ve survived the past six years.
What if I remember how it came to be for my hands to end those poor lives, and I learn it wasn’t the curse at all?
What if I learn that I really am the monster everyone believes me to be?
“Please don't," I beg. A rough, pained whisper.
He scrunches his eyes closed, his lips twisting into a grimace as if he can’t bear to watch what he’s about to do. The pain he knows it will cause me.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he rasps, then takes a slow, shaky inhale. “Tell me, Washwoman, the answer I seek.” The curse’s hooks dig into my skin instantly, and I gasp at the abrupt prickle of pain. Brennen’s lips twitch in a silent apology as he opens his eyes. “Why did you kill them, Bea?”