Page 107 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“They dinnae know where you are. At least I don't think so. I'll make sure you're safe.”

“Thank you,” I say, breathless.

He nods. “They're asking about Brennen.”

I go still. “What about him?”

“How often he comes to town. If he seems fond of you.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “That's ridiculous. He's here to find a way to kill me.”

Theo raises his eyebrows. “Are you so sure about that?”

“He hasn’t told me otherwise,” I say, even though those three words, fond of you, cause my breaths to go shallow and my heart to race.

Theo sighs, rubbing a hand across his scruff. “I dinnae like the way they're prodding and prying. Is Brennen in some sort of trouble?”

Dread fills my stomach. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I hope not.”

Theo nods. He leans forward, taking a second to warm his hands by the flames. “As nice as this fire is, I should be getting back in case more come.” He stands, pausing. “I don't like having Cailleach’s Dìdeanair here.”

Defensiveness surges in my chest, hot as flames. “Brennen is a good man,” I say.

“I agree. I’m no speaking of him, but these other guards... I dinnae trust them.”

I hold his gaze, my stomach twisting. “You shouldn't.”

He gives me a sharp nod. “I won't. Be well, Bea.” He turns to leave, but I stop him.

“Wait. Aside from the soldiers arriving, have you heard any other news?”

He crosses his arms. “Like what?”

“The women who are disappearing. Have there been any more in the past few days?”

He tilts his head, crossing his arms. “Aye. There are rumors of one from Gloscan two days ago.”

My mouth goes dry, and it takes effort to ask my next question. “Was it a tailor's daughter?”

His eyes widen. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I don't,” I stutter, unsure if I can trust him, what's safe to tell him. “Something is happening. I can’t explain it, but you need to be careful with the Cutter’s men there. As do the women in the village. If you get news of any others, will you let me know?”

He nods his head, chewing on his cheek. I can tell he wants to ask more, but he restrains himself.

“I will,” he says. “You be careful, as well.”

But it is not my safety I worry about as he walks away. It is his. Brennen's. And every young woman in the kingdom, because none of them are safe.

Someone is killing them, and I fear that I may be the only one able to stop it.

47

BRENNEN

Saoirse sits curled in my lap, playing with the carving I made her for her birthday. It’s a miniature lamb, with fluffy hair and delicate ears. She giggles as she pretends it’s walking up my arm, and despite everything happening—the women, the Cutter, Bea—my heart warms.

I shift under her weight.