Page 95 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

Was he a gift from the goddess, or is it just luck? Either way, I am grateful.

“It’s just stew,” Theo says, “but with it being so cold, I thought the two of you might do well with something hot in your belly.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I haven’t brought you something before.”

I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. It smells delicious.”

“Aye, it does,” Brennen says, his container already open. “Would you like to join us?”

“No.” Theo raises his hands. “I’ll need to get back to the tavern. I’m teaching Anna the ropes. She’s a natural, but she’s not quite ready to be on her own for long.”

“I’m glad to hear that. So she willnae need new lodging, then?” Brennen asks.

I tilt my head. Who is Anna, and why was he finding her lodging?

“No. She’d like to stay. Billy’s friends are here, after all. I’ll exchange lodging for help at the tavern.”

Brennen shakes Theo’s hand, and something passes between them, but I can’t place the emotion. Camaraderie, perhaps? If they’re speaking of Billy’s mother staying at the tavern, it must mean Brennen helped them with whatever was causing their predicament.

Theo starts to turn, then pauses. “By the way. Harold's been asking after you. I told him I’d pass along his message to find him next time you come to the village.” He nods. “Washwoman.”

“Bea,” Brennen says, and I whip my head toward him in shock, but he's too busy inspecting his stew to notice. A lump forms in my throat, surprise rippling out of me until I feel like I’m glowing as bright as the moon, but somehow, Brennen doesn’t seem to sense how much that correction means to me. Doesn’t realize he’s only giving me more evidence to believe he no longer views me as a monster.

Theo looks at Brennen, raising his eyebrows. “Bea, then,” Theo says with a kind smile.

“Thank you!” I call after him as he disappears, my heart lighter than it’s been since before I was sentenced here.

Brennen settles by the fire.

“Let's eat then, before it gets cold.” He pulls out a spoon, crossing his legs. I try to hide my smile at the invitation as I do the same.

We eat in comfortable silence, and it’s nice, this piece of normalcy. Even if it won’t last forever.

“Guess you're not afraid to share a meal with me after all,” I say before I consider what those words could do.

He stops his spoon halfway to his mouth, and I hold my breath, afraid he will put it back down. Afraid he will make an excuse and leave. But slowly, never breaking eye contact, he takes a bite.

“No. I guess I’m not,” he says. The words scrape across my skin, a pleasant warmth following behind them.

He clears his throat, then looks away, poking his spoon around in his food. He finds a piece of carrot, scooping it up, and I do the same.

“What are you always carving?” I ask, testing whether this meal might not include just company, but conversation as well. “I know it's a bird, but⁠—”

“A robin,” he says, short and to the point as always. I sit up straighter, excited he actually answered me this time.

I peer closer, and the fact that it’s a robin becomes more obvious. It’s small and round, with a short, delicate beak. How did I not see it before?

“Robins are beautiful birds. Are they your favorite?” I ask, prodding gently.

“Something like that,” he answers tightly, taking a chunk of wood off near the foot.

I sigh wistfully, ignoring his obvious continued tension. “I should think, if I were a bird, I'd like to be a skylark. Robins are beautiful, but I love the way larks sing as they take flight. How high in the air they’re able to soar.”

He pauses his carving to take another bite, but doesn’t look up at me, and something pinches in my chest.

Talk to me, I silently beg.

“If I were a bird,” I continue softly, “I would fly far away from here and never look back. See what's beyond the mist.” I picture myself soaring over the black fog to another kingdom. Another realm, where there are no Fates to curse me. Where I could begin again.

“I’d still have to catch you,” he says, and my lips quirk into a smile.