“Aye,” Mrs Harrow said. “Words can cut deeper than most would care to admit.”
Aoife bristled. “If he’s worried about his career, that’s hardly—”
But Mrs Harrow shook her head, sharply enough to silence her.
“You don’t understand him,” she said, not unkindly. “And you can’t know what choices a person makes… or why… unless you know what came before.”
For a moment she looked as though she might say more on the topic; instead, she exhaled sharply and said, “If there is nothing I can assist you with, I have other matters to attend to.”
Aoife nodded, and Mrs Harrow left the room, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Aoife let out a long, shaky breath.
Whatever story Mrs Harrow meant to tell… whatever truth she thought would change things… it wouldn’t change what the villagers needed now. It wouldn’t fill their grain stores or keep their children fed through winter.
She thought of the hidden grain in the woods; the barrel sealed with green paste. It was time to tell Cormac.
Chapter 21
When she returned upstairs, Cormac was awake, propped against the headboard.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, closing the door softly behind her. “There’s a barrel of grain in the woods.”
He gave a faint smile. “I know. I saw you hide it.”
Her head snapped up. “You saw me?”
He tilted his head.
“Oh, right.”
“Couldn’t exactly call out, could I?”
Aoife sat on the edge of the bed, hands knotting in her lap. “It’ll be weeks before you’re strong enough to lift it. You’ll need help, and I don’t know who we could trust or even ask to take that risk.”
“Aoife, I’ll manage. Another benefit of being an Athraith. I heal faster than you.”
She huffed a breath. “You make it sound simple.”
“It isn’t,” he admitted. “But it’s better than lying here waiting for someone else to solve things.”
His expression changed, growing troubled.
“I hate that you’re trapped here,” he said. “I’ll look for a way to break the oath.”
“Cormac… don’t. Please.”
He straightened a little. “Why shouldn’t I try? Maybe my mother knows something—”
“No,” the word came out too quickly. She forced herself to soften. “Cormac, I don’t want you risking yourself for something that might not even be possible.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t think the oath can be broken.”
She didn’t answer immediately. The memory of lightning striking the ground was fresh in her mind.
“No,” she said, “I don’t think it can. And I think the Sheedar will punish you if you try. So… don’t, all right. For me.”
Cormac nodded, though she suspected he didn’t entirely mean it.
