Page 138 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

He tilts his head. “Do you think she'd want you to suffer like this? To be unhappy? Now, I didnae ken her, but I dinnae think she would.”

I shake my head, blood warm from the alcohol. I dinnae want to think of the Washwoman right now. I dinnae want to think of Marsaili or my vow to avenge her. For just a moment, I dinnae want to think about anything. What I want is to forget.

I reach for the bottle, my glass once again empty, but Theo takes it away.

“All right. Let's get you an ale. Take a break from the whiskey.” He inclines his head back toward the main room.

I stand, grumbling under my breath, but I follow behind anyway. Ale will get the job done as well. I'll just need more of it.

Harold is in his seat at the bar when we return, and he grins when he sees us. “A round for everyone! On me,” he says, popping up and slapping Theo on the back.

“For everyone?” I ask, wondering if I can convince Harold to make it a round of whiskey.

“Aye, for everyone. We’re celebrating! My oldest grandson just told me they’re having another bairn. I'm gonna be a great-granda again!”

“Congratulations.” I extend a hand to Harold. “We'll drink to their health, then. Theo, whiskey for me.”

Theo ignores me, handing me an ale before passing around mugs to the rest of the bar. The patrons raise their glasses in a toast, and with my mind slightly fuzzy and blood warm from the alcohol, I decide to join them. Because this is what life should be about.

Camaraderie. New beginnings.

And so, not wanting to darken this moment or call the attention of misfortune, I take another drink, and force myself to forget everything but the here and now.

62

BEA

The only thing that could cause me to rise is the river. She calls with the strongest of winds, and her magic pulls me to my knees. My hands are pushed into the water, and the cold bites into my skin, but I hardly feel it.

I am a shell. Numb to everything but my grief.

There was a time, when I was first sentenced here, that I believed life couldn’t get any worse. I was hollow, desperate for escape.

Those days are nothing compared to the vicious hole inside me now. I no longer crave rest, because I do not think I will find it. When I die, I will only find judgment, and I deserve it.

The water turns a muddy brown, and even then, I do not have the energy to dread what will come next.

My vision shifts, and I am no longer kneeling in the river. Instead, I’m standing in a village. One that looks very familiar.

I freeze, heart thundering. I’m not in just any village. I’m in Dalbàsail, standing in the town square directly in front of a tavern. It’s changed since I saw it last. There are more buildings, what looks like a bakery and some houses, but I recognize the cobblestone street and ancient trees surrounding it instantly.

A pub song floats through the tavern door, and I push my way inside, searching for the woman who’s in danger. I only have minutes before I’m pulled back to the river, if not less, and I’m determined to find her. To push through my pain, put aside my sorrow so I can help her.

Confusion swirls through my mind as I search the crowd, growing stronger by the second. There are only men. Guardians and villagers, drams raised, all seemingly celebrating.

A singsong breaks out—a song cannae tell you the time it will end.

A rough voice cuts through the ruckus, a rich, deep timbre I recognize in my bones.

“Brennen?” I whisper, his name catching in my throat, shock ricocheting through my body.

I don’t know how he hears me, but he stiffens at the sound of my voice, his eyes going wide as he turns. He looks around at the guardians enjoying their ale, but by the grace of the goddesses, none seemed to have noticed me. His face drains of color, and he tilts his head toward the door that leads back outside. I understand his meaning instantly.

Go, before they see you.

As inconspicuously as I can, I duck my head and slip out, darting around the corner. Brennen is standing in front of me only moments later.

“Is this a vision?” A flicker of what looks like peace crosses his face as he looks down at my missing chain.