Page 171 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

78

BEA

“The next…” My words fade on an exhale, a wave of dizziness washing over me. What he’s saying can’t be true. Can it? Because how in the goddess's name could I be a Fate?

And yet, I never would have believed Brennen was a god, either, and here he is, standing next to me, emanating power unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Brennen. The only person I trust. Explicitly and wholly. If he’s telling me this is the truth…

Fated one, Lolly— I mean, Eiridh had said.

“Me?” I breathe, my entire body tensing.

“Aye, m’ anam.” My soul. “You.”

The words hit low in my belly, but I cannot truly feel them. Cannot appreciate the immensity of their meaning as my disbelief morphs into frustration. I didn’t ask to become a Fate, but even if I had, of the three of them, why would I be destined to fulfill the one role I would never, ever want? I shake my head.

“I’ve seen enough death. I despise it,” I say to the goddess, anger bubbling in my chest.

She gives me an approving smile, leaning forward and dropping her voice to a near whisper. “Exactly. You appreciate death. You respect its role. Its power. There is no one better suited, after the life you’ve lived, to fulfill this sacred duty,” the goddess says, something akin to pride in her voice.

I want to strike her across her cheek, this woman who has ripped my reality apart, but I bite my tongue.

Brennen chuckles, lifting my hand, caressing the new dàn on my palm. Pulling my focus away from the goddess, I focus on the lines, examining the way they swoop and curl, but the symbol means nothing to me.

Not until, tucked into the intricate design, I see a long vertical stroke, then an arched one across the top. From the right edge of that one, a line runs down at an angle, looping up at the bottom.

Shock and recognition ripple through my body. “This is the dàn I picture. The one I can never complete.”

He nods. “It would have begun to appear in your mind before Cailleach found you. Had you been given more time, you would have realized what it was, and your magic would have awoken. If you had chosen to accept the role, the cycle would have begun. She found you too soon.”

I bring it closer, staring, the shape somehow so familiar and not at the same time. It doesn’t look like Cailleach’s sigil at all; the marking far more intricate, with so many loops and swirls, I could find a hundred different designs within it if I searched. “How could she take it from me?” I ask, trailing my fingers along the fine lines.

Brennen’s voice drops low. “She stole the dàn from your mind, just as she manipulated your memories to make you believe you killed those people.”

The goddess places a hand on her chest. “I am so very sorry for what you’ve endured.”

I shake my head, unexpected tears burning the backs of my eyes at the sorrow in her voice. Is it possible Blàr means it? That the goddess of war and monsters cares this much about the pain of mortals?

“Tell me everything,” I say, turning to Brennen, and he squeezes my hand.

“Prior to the last Epoch, we made a plan. We knew that cycle would be brutal, and the Cutter would be given one more chance to step down. It would have been far easier if she had done it of her own will, with less of a chance of destabilizing the magic of the realm. Even Ban-dia a’ Bhàis cannae use her power unfettered without consequence.”

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis.

The name makes my heart nearly stop. The silver hair and gold eyes.

This isn’t a lesser goddess at all. I am standing before the very creator of our realm. The goddess of death.

I look down at my feet, suddenly unable to breathe. I had been cross with her. Had almost demanded she not touch Brennen, and that she respect my dragon.

“Dinnae fash,” Brennen says, as if reading my mind. He tilts my chin back up. “She willnae harm you. She is the one who sent me to find you.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

I shake my head. “But why? Why would a god come to the mortal realm?”

“Ban-dia a’ Bhàis’s magic, if she uses it for anything that changes the fate of her kingdom, requires a bargain. When the Cutter wouldnae step down, I offered one. Only one Cutter is fated prior to each Epoch. We were determined not to lose another to Cailleach’s greed. She was to weave it into the next Cutter’s thread that she couldnae be killed, and in exchange, I would find her and bring her here to step into her power. That thread was yours.”

“Wove it into my thread… Is that why I have an immortality dan?” I ask, my mind struggling to keep up.