Page 13 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“Who murdered them?” she asks, and for a moment, I hesitate. My throat burns, and my lips feel sluggish. But the hooks tug again, and I realize resisting is futile. She will force me to say it one way or another.

The name I’ve refused to utter since I buried Marsaili.

I fight to push down the fury rising up my throat, but the taste of it already coats my tongue.

“The Bean-Nighe.” My voice comes out as almost a growl.

“Yes.” Cailleach leans forward. “The Washwoman.”

The name strikes like a spear through my chest, and I know with sudden clarity why I was called here today.

Fire surges through my blood. Ban-dia a’ Bhàis is keeping her promise.

“Has she escaped again?” I ask.

“No,” Cailleach snaps. Athair crouches, but she places a hand on his snout, calming him. She takes a deep breath. “Though I do see why that would be your concern, seeing as it was during the first, and only” —she throws the word at me like a dart— “time she escaped that she killed your precious Marsaili. Tell me. What do you know of her punishment?”

I want to hurl my dagger at her. To tell her to have respect when she speaks Marsaili’s name, but I bite my tongue. “She was bound to the River of Death after taking a life you had marked to die over a century ago—a friend who betrayed her. She saw a friend’s clothes she was planning to kill in the river and removed them so the death could be at her own hands. She interfered with fate and murdered both her friend and her lover, outside of your will. She defied you, so you cursed her to wash the clothing of the dead forever, cleaning their sins and allowing souls passage into the afterlife.”

The Cutter’s eyes sparkle. “A unique punishment, don't you think? I’m rather proud of it.”

I close my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“May I truly speak freely?” I ask, my voice tight.

Athair’s head swings toward me, and for a moment, I’m certain Cailleach will lift her finger, and I’ll be nothing but a smoking heap of ash, but she pats the dragon’s nose, nodding.

I let out a shaky breath. “Why not death?” I ask, looking directly at Cailleach. “Why not end her life?”

The Fate presses her lips together for a moment before speaking, and when she does, her words are as curt as ever. “I will tell you, but only so that you understand the gravity of the danger she possesses.”

I nod. “Of course.”

Athair snorts, but Cailleach holds up a hand. “Death is the sentence she was originally given, agreed upon by all three of us. But,” she pauses, her fingers tightening on her throne as if speaking the words is causing her physical pain, “when I tried to sever her thread, it would not cut.”

Her confession steals the air from my lungs. I don't dare speak, afraid that any question I ask will spark an outburst of anger that will end in my own thread being severed. The Cutter hides her shame well, her chin high and her shoulders back, but it's there, hidden in the shadows of her face.

She waves a hand as if unbothered, but the lines bracketing her eyes say otherwise. “How is that possible? That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”

I open my mouth, but no words form. It is what I want to know, but I certainly cannae ask when Athair is lowering his head to my level, his claws digging into the marble as if he’s about to launch forward to grab me by the throat.

She pets his neck, soothing him as if that will stop him from turning me to a pile of charred bones, and lowers her chin. “I gave him permission to speak freely.”

He huffs, smoke curling from his nose.

“Do you know why the thread refused to cut?” I ask, choosing my words carefully, and the queen's lips tip up in an approving smile.

“No,” she says.

“Is there a chance Measaire didnae measure her thread to end at that time?” I ask, my mind shifting through the possibilities.

“It would not have mattered, even if she hadn’t. While I’m honor-bound to her measurements in most cases, the magic she uses in her duty is fluid and allows that measurement to change under certain circumstances. It is about intention. If I believed you to be a threat to the kingdom, the laws between my sisters and me would not apply. After what she did, I should have been able to end her life, and thus, that threat.”

She sighs dramatically, as if putting on a show.

“Alas, none of us has been able to determine why her particular thread cannot be severed. It has not happened before, and it has not happened since.”

I nod, taking it all in. “She cannae be killed.” The words burn as they leave my throat. “So you put her where you can watch her.”