Page 1 of Blood & Claw

1: THE TRUTH OF THINGS

Braewall

The Realm of Albia

JAW CLENCHED, AILSA made her way down to the market ground.

The argument with Kayla still rang in her ears.

“You won’t enjoy yourself tonight.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’ve lived longer than you.”

“Aye … and you seem determined to live my life too.”

The memory of the censure on Kayla’s face made Ailsa’s pulse kick.

She loved the woman who’d raised her—Gods, she did—but sometimes Kayla’s protectiveness suffocated her.

At two and twenty summers, she was tired of being watched over, of feeling as though life was happening somewhere beyond the walls of Braewall while each day slid into the next.

Tonight, she planned to finally approach Lewis, but her decision to attend the festivities wasn’t entirely about him.

No, it was about proving to herself that she could step beyond the narrow life she’d always known. That she could stand on her own two feet.

Earlier, as they’d worked alongside each other—Ailsa tattooing a fertility bracelet upon a newlywed woman’s wrist—she’d told her mentor that she’d be attending Harvest Fire.

Alone.

Immediately, Kayla had tried to dissuade her, and when that hadn’t worked, she’d insisted upon accompanying her. Ailsa had refused. The last thing she needed was Kayla hovering nearby, glowering at any man who looked her way.

The hurt in her mentor’s hazel eyes had almost weakened her resolve.

Almost.

No, some things had to be done alone. Fire festivals were a time for boldness, weren’t they? For years, she’d stood on the fringes of gatherings, watching others flirt and laugh. Watching them dance, fall in love, and make mistakes.

Live.

Meanwhile, she remained tucked safely beneath Kayla’s wing.

There was more to life than tattooing. More to life than Braewall.

Her belly pitched as she navigated the narrow dirt wynds, but determination burned hotter than fear of the unknown.

“You’ve sat around pining long enough,” she muttered. “If you don’t act tonight, you never will.”

A flicker of doubt surfaced. What if Lewis rejected her?

Her hands curled into fists. Then she’d survive it. Embarrassment wouldn’t kill her, but spending the rest of her life wondering what if just might.

Lewis had smiled at her, hadn’t he? He’d laughed at her awkward jokes while she inked the hammer on his arm.

But maybe I misread him?

Her step faltered, and for one weak moment, she considered turning back. She could be sitting before the hearth now, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of caudle, listening to Kayla coax a haunting tune from her lyre.