Page 39 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

I nod to her, unsure what I would say even if I could speak. I pull the boy closer to me.

“Let’s get you home…” I trail off. “What was your name, lad?”

“Billy,” he says, his teeth chattering.

“Well, let's go then, Billy.”

He nods against my neck. “You know what's strange?” he says, calming as I carry him back toward home. “I think I believe her. That she won't hurt anyone.”

I stiffen, tightening my grip on the boy, but I remain silent. I dinnae want to frighten the child, so I let him believe the Washwoman isn't a monster. Children believe all sorts of foolish things.

I willnae make the same mistake.

15

BEA

Each ragged breath is agony. My right ribs seize with every inhale, and I wonder if they’re broken or simply bruised. At least the added weight of Brennen’s hatred dims a bit as he disappears through the pines, boy in tow.

For the first time since he arrived, his loathing doesn’t feel aimed wholly in my direction. He’d been so angry with the child. Too angry, really. He was just a lad, and he’d only behaved that way because he learned it from someone else. Children are not born with that kind of cruelty within them.

But Brennen hadn’t seemed to even consider why the child would have behaved the way he did. He’d simply reacted, acting as if it were an affront to him that the boy had attacked me. Is it because he’s here to guard me? If he saw the boy getting to me as a failure, it would certainly explain his anger. Would align with how he reacts when I speak about him hurting me.

There’s no honor in attacking a woman in shackles, he’d said. If I hurt you, it will be because you left me with no other choice.

Is it possible the Dìdeanair is actually an honorable man? One who doesn’t crave power? I didn’t think such men existed.

I shake my head, the pain in my ribs and back growing unbearable. I won’t figure out Brennen’s motivations right now. Not when I can hardly breathe.

As slowly and carefully as I can, I inch my way to my bed to lie down, biting my lip as I move to hold back the scream fighting to escape my throat. I’m still soaking wet, but it’s the least of my worries. I will dry eventually, but this pain will take far longer to fade.

Lolly roars as I roll onto my left side, the pain lessening as I finally still, and I flick my eyes up to see fire dancing across the sky. She's angry today.

It seems everyone is.

She disappears over the horizon, and I look back to the river, reaching out to place my fingers in the water.

“Please,” I say, “No deaths right now.”

The water ripples, caressing my skin, and I hope that’s her way of accepting my plea.

I close my eyes, taking stock of my injuries for the second time in the last few days. While my ribs seem to bear the brunt of the damage, my lip is swollen, and there's a goose egg on the back of my skull. My arm throbs, as does a spot on my lower back. The boy had thrown the stones surprisingly hard for a child. For an adult, even. A dàn of strength, Brennen had said. But even worse were the things he said to me.

Insults that remind me the entire kingdom despises me. Not just the ones who show up at the river, desperate and grieving.

Everyone.

It hurts almost more than my battered body, knowing there is nothing I will ever be able to do to change what they think of me. My legend will only grow, and who I really am, every last piece of me, will cease to exist altogether. How long until I forget myself, too? Until I’m lost to my own mind and that very legend defining me?

The wind picks up, the river recoiling from my hand as if ashamed of her lie, and tears burn my eyes. I'm unable to keep my scream contained as I’m dragged to my knees by invisible hands.

My body sags, but the magic of the curse holds me upright, and for once, I’m grateful for the force that bends to its will. At least I don't have to use what little strength I have left to pull myself to kneel.

The river is freezing as I lower my hands into the water, and I shiver.

The scent of bog myrtle permeates the air, and the river turns brown with mud. The world tilts, and suddenly, my pain is gone. I take a full, deep breath, my vision steadying and dizziness fading.

I’m in a candlelit pub, the patrons around me several drinks deep and belting a lively tune, glasses raised. The melody scratches at my brain, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before.