Rowan flinched and walked away from the bed. Her mother had only become more devout since their exile, believing that God would save them, disregarding the mountain of evidence to the contrary. She’d always been a good woman, her mother. She’d led a difficult life—disowned by her family for marrying a common soldier, losing the love of her life so young, the trouble she’d had fitting in at Jarn as an outsider and then the trial. It was like all of that hardship had distilled her initial goodness into something so pure it was almost unnatural. Even after everything she’d been through, she always tried to look for the best side of things in circumstances and people.
It was thoroughly annoying.
Throwing herself into the rocking chair beside the fire, Rowan said, “I should have just left him out there. What are we going to do with a dead witch hunter in our house? Someone willcome looking for him eventually. It will only bring trouble to our door.”
“If he dies, we’ll call for a priest,” her mother said. “The priest will come and make arrangements for the body to be properly buried.”
“The priest won’t come here.” Not to their squatter town full of leaning shacks and dodgy neighbors. They were all outcasts of one kind or another out here at the edge of the kingdom, and the Church had long since given up on them. “Better we bury him in the deepest hole we can find and pretend we never saw him. I can’t believe it’shim.”
The venom in her voice surprised even her, and her mother didn’t speak for a long moment. “Hopefully he’ll survive the fever and we won’t have to worry about what to do with his body. You could say a prayer.”
“I could make a charm.”
Her mother shook her head. “I hate that Tilly is teaching you such things. After everything we’ve been through, you should know better than to dabble in magic.”
Her mother believed in herbs and poultices and medicines, all things which were legal in the kingdom. All things that were easy to call out as potions and charms by people who did not understand them. Maybe Tilly did cross the line with her small magics, but those magics had saved both Rowan’s and her mother’s lives a time or two.
And they were both still sitting here, no demons to be seen.
Except maybe the one currently in her bed.
Frowning, she leaned forward to toss another log onto the fire. It crackled as it caught, and her face briefly warmed with heat. She’d need to cut more wood tomorrow and every day from now until winter set in. They still had no meat. They did have a horse now, out in the lean-to at the back of the house. She supposed she’d have to figure out a way to feed that mouth too.Unless the witch hunter died, then she was claiming the horse as payment and selling it.
She wondered how much she would get for his horse in Sulen. It was a big town and would surely be worth the trip. She’d have to do it before her mother called for the priest or else the beast would somehow end up as a donation to the Church instead.
For a moment, she imagined climbing on the horse and just riding away from this place. Away from the woods and the looming mountains. Past Sulen all the way to the capital where her mother had once lived. She could sell the horse there for a ticket on a ship that would carry her across the ocean if she wanted. If she played her cards right, she might never have to stop moving at all.
She couldn’t do that. Not even in a daydream. Her mother wouldn’t be able to live that kind of life, and Rowan wouldn’t leave her mother here alone. She couldn’t, even if her mother wanted her to. Her mother wouldn’t survive it.
Breathing a sigh, she settled back in her chair. “I wish he hadn’t come here. The patrols never come out this far. What do you think he was doing in the woods?”
“Chasing something evil, I imagine,” her mother said. “That’s his job, though it’s strange that you found him alone without his men. You said it felt like someone else was out there?”
She shivered, thinking about it. That heavy feeling on the back of her neck. The way the muscles in her back had tightened, bracing for a blow. She’d never felt so much like prey. “Could’ve been the deer I was tracking, but it was probably just my imagination.”
Her mother placed the cloth in the water again. Again, she gently wrung it out. This time she ran it down the side of the captain’s neck. For some reason, this seemed to soothe him. So long as her mother sat there, he didn’t cry out or try to get outof bed. But it had been a full day since he’d opened his eyes with any clarity. If he didn’t wake up soon and take food and water, his odds of survival were bleak.
“There’s a witch in the woods,” her mother said. “Everyone says so. I told you to stay out of there.”
She hadn’t needed to be told. “There was a doe. We need the food.”
Her mother sighed. “I suppose if you hadn’t chased the doe, the captain would have died out there all alone. I see God’s hand in this.”
Of course she did.
“The woods were the same as always.” Except for all the blood. “I didn’t see any sign of a witch.”
“The witch wouldn’t show herself to you,” her mother said. “That’s not the way they work. I’ve told you this time and again. Witches are deceptive creatures. They hide themselves among us.”
“They’re women.”
Her mother frowned. “They seem to be. At first, you can’t tell the difference. It’s only little things. The cat’s gone missing. Or there’s an outbreak of mosquitoes. Mold in the thatch. Things that can be explained another way. By the time the church is on fire and a demon is walking in the streets, it’s too late.”
Her mother saw the world as a battle between good and evil. God in his heaven, pouring his light and goodness into his followers so they might fight the evil that sought to overtake this world. Something had broken in her after Jarn. Rowan didn’t fault her for that. Nor did she want to encourage her. There weren’t any demons coming to Toam. Even demons had higher standards than that.
Her mother turned her face in Rowan’s direction. It gave the uncanny illusion that she was looking at her. Firelight glittered off her blind eyes. Shadows pulled at the ruined skin at herbrow. “If he survives, perhaps the captain would be willing to help us move to another town. Somewhere closer to the capital. Somewhere with a church. He might know a priest who would speak for us. You could resume your training and?—”
“We have no money for any of that,” Rowan said flatly.
