Page 169 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“Make that my bargain, then.” Our eldest brother and the guardian of the gates, Garrick, enters with a cocky grin, flicking his wrist. A fourth chair appears, and he sits, a dram appearing in his hand. “I’ll join them in the mortal world to protect the ascending as well, and I will ensure we find a way to convince the reigning Cutter to step down. He leans forward. “Either that, or I will find a way to kill her. In return for my assistance, transfer our magic to your sisters until we succeed. Tie my magic to Dìonadair and Dorchadas. When a life is completed, and its thread is severed at its time, the souls will be allowed entry into the After. It’s simple enough.”

“Solas could guide them,” Theo says, narrowing his eyes in thought. “She can light the way and lead the souls to judgment.” They both look to me.

My jaw clenches, but I consider my options. “Ceò would make a fine judge until I return. She’s used to peering through the mist to what lies beneath it. You can lend my magic to her as well, and return it to me once my bargain has been fulfilled.”

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis eyes sharpen, flicking between us. “It could work. If we can find a way to ensure the next ascending Cutter survives long enough to accept her role and awaken the next Weaver and Measurer, it is possible that together, they will be able to overthrow Cailleach. Though I cannae guarantee we will succeed. I can weave the possibilities into your threads in exchange for your bargains, but I’ll have to be careful. If I upset the balance, it could have catastrophic consequences. It could be the end of the realm as we know it.” She closes her eyes, shuffling through visions of the future. What is likely dozens upon dozens of possible outcomes. “Yes. I can see it will be challenging. And it will not be pleasant. Each of you will be forced to make sacrifices, and they will not be easy.”

“It doesnae matter,” I say, jaw tight. “We will do as we must. Cailleach has to be stopped, no matter the cost.”

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis stares off into the distance for a long moment. “This Epoch will be brutal, and it has already been set in motion. Let us give Cailleach one more opportunity to do what’s right. If she doesnae step down at the next exchange of power, then we will risk this plan. You will all be born mortal in time to prepare for the next transition.”

“So it’s settled then?” I ask.

One by one, we raise our drams. “Let us toast to bind our intentions. Do we all agree?” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis asks.

“Aye,” I say.

“Aye,” Theo and Garrick echo.

“Then let it be done,” the goddess says, and we bring our drams together.

“Aye!” Mire appears, a dram appearing in her hand. She clangs it against the four of ours. I try to pull back. I dinnae know her intentions, nor do I trust them, but she is too fast. Whiskey spills from the rim of her glass, splashing into ours.

Whatever her addition to the bargain is, spoken or not, it is too late to undo.

“Mire!” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis snaps before I have the chance. “I did not call on you!”

Her eyes glint, wild with chaos. “Since when does madness require summoning?”

“What have you done?” the goddess of death demands, her voice full of horror, but her sister only smiles.

“Dinnae fash, sister. You’ll see.”

77

BEA

Delivering me to her? What is she talking about?

Brennen stiffens, and a surge of protectiveness washes through me as the goddess squeezes his hand. It's too familiar a gesture, casual, as if she's done it thousands of times before, and I find I do not like it one bit. Lolly must sense my unease, because she lowers her head, a growl rumbling in her chest.

Do you want me to stop her? she asks directly into my mind, and I shiver, wholly unused to the intrusion.

“Dinne be foolish,” the goddess snaps, giving her a withering stare. I open my mouth to tell her not to speak to my dragon that way, but she shifts her glare to me as if reading my intentions. I bow my head and avert my eyes, unsure what this woman’s powers are. With the aura of anger around her and the Epoch raging overhead, my guess is I am standing before Blàr, goddess of war and monsters. Who knows the wicked things she could do to me if displeased.

“It’s alright, Lolly,” I whisper, and she huffs, smoke curling from her nose.

Eiridh.

What? I think the word, and am about to speak it aloud, when the voice slides into my mind again.

My name. It is not Lolly. It’s Eiridh.

My eyes stray from Brennen and the goddess for the briefest moment, only long enough to look at my dragon.

You can read my mind, too? I ask, once again speaking the words only in my mind.

Eiridh nods, remaining silent.