Page 107 of Blood & Claw

“I don’t see why not. The binding pattern would allow you to stop the beast from emerging … yet you could still call upon it if necessary.” His body tensed further at these last words, but she pressed on. “It should also make it easier for you to shift back.”

“Really?”

“Aye.” She paused then, suddenly less sure of herself. “I can’t rid you of the beast … but once Kayla takes a look at it, she might be able to.”

He didn’t answer immediately, although his stillness indicated he was thinking her suggestion over. “What do you need?” he asked finally.

Ailsa hesitated—doubt suddenly stirring—then pushed on anyway. “Nothing more than I already carry.” Her hand strayed to the bulging satchel that lay against her hip. “I brought Kayla’s tattooing kit with me. When we stop for the day, I can get to work.”

Darach didn’t reply, and as the pause drew out, she tensed.

Was he nervous about letting an apprentice work on him, concerned she might botch things further and make things worse?

“I know it’s risky,” she said then. “But I wouldn’t make the offer unless I thought I was up to it. Kayla always hesitated to let me use my skills to the fullest … but I know I’m capable of it.”

Aye, she was. But only if he let her work on him.

“I trust you, Ailsa,” he replied eventually, his voice oddly subdued. Then, to her surprise, he lifted his hand and placed it over where hers rested on his hip, squeezing gently. “Very well … let’s do this.”

27: A CIRCLE OF THORNS

“ARE YOU READY?”

Darach looked up, his jaw bunching. “Aye,” he replied gruffly. “Although we don’t really have time for this.”

Ailsa tossed the trout bones onto the fire and watched the flames devour them. The crackling sound reminded her of when she burned her nail filings. Glancing down at her hands, she frowned. Her nails were growing. Again.

“No, we don’t,” she agreed. “But we’ve traveled as far as we can today … and time is running out for you.”

He grimaced at that yet didn’t argue. He knew it was the truth.

Wiping off her hands with a piece of moss, she glanced once more across the fire at where Darach sat cross-legged. Like her, his hair was damp, not from the rain, which had finally abated, but from bathing. They’d both taken turns to wash in the icy burn earlier. Ailsa’s teeth had chattered as she crouched in the freezing water. However, after days on the road, scrubbing herself clean was necessary.

Darach’s strong face was stern, a furrow etched between his eyebrows.

A man who’d lost everything.

“Look at it this way,” she said, flashing him a wry smile. “I probably can’t make it worse.”

He snorted and pushed himself to his feet. “Right.”

While he unlaced his breeches, Ailsa dug into her satchel and pulled out Kayla’s tightly rolled, precious tattooing kit. She then laid each item out before tipping a little dried woad and ash into a small clay mortar.

Pausing, Aisla took a long look at things that had been part of her world for as long as she could remember. Kayla’s things.

Her throat tightened. How she missed her.

She pulled herself together then and opened another stoppered vial. This one contained cooled boiled water, which she mixed with the dried woad to form a paste—dark blue and pungent-smelling, ready to stain the skin. After that, she held the points of two of her carving implements, a long iron needle and a slender blade, into the fire, letting them glow red-hot and then cool.

Catching Darach watching her, she met his eye. “Kayla always told me the importance of keeping things clean. There’s less risk of the tattoo souring afterward.”

He gave a wary nod.

“This will take a while,” she warned him. “And it’s going to hurt … it’s a shame we don’t have any ale or strong wine to take the edge off.”

“I don’t need it,” he replied. “Just do what you must.”

She eyed him. Tough words, although he might eat them soon.