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From the day of her father’s funeral going forward, she was the “witch,” and she knew Arioch had everything to do with feeding that rumor as the town scrios.
Now, he didn’t need to pretend. He was right. She was a witch, and the proof was all there now for him to haul her into a witch trial. The trial he’d been waiting and planning for the last ten years, she was sure.
A sob broke free as she squeezed her eyes closed.
“None of that,” a familiar voice chastised from behind her, and Bryn turned away from the wall to see Niamh sitting beside the bed, knitting of all things. Bryn never would have imagined her seductress of a friend would knit.
Nothing was as it seemed anymore.
She wished she had energy to do anything but cry because she would have enjoyed ribbing Niamh about this particular secret.
“Quit crying or I’ll knit you a diaper since you’re being such a baby about all of this.”
“Sage told you what she found?” Bryn asked as she sat up against the headboard, wiping her tears and snot with her shirt in the epitome of womanly behavior, she was sure, but thankfully Niamh ignored it.
“She did when I demanded an explanation. Sage was out of her mind with worry when she grabbed me and pulled me, sans explanation, across the street to care for our friend who was curled into a literal ball of emotion on the floor of her living room. I wasn’t going to let that go without more information once I saw you. It was a breakdown to end all breakdowns.”
Embarrassment colored Bryn’s cheeks.
“None of that either,” Niamh chastised again, turning her nose down and giving Bryn a stern look.
“They were all right about me, Niamh. I am awitch.”
“Good,” Niamh stated with finality as she moved her knitting needles fluidly like an old pro. “Witches are powerful. These people here are not, and so theyshouldfear you.”
That was not at all what Bryn expected her to say.
“Theyburnwitches, Niamh!”
“No.” Setting her needles and work in progress down, Niamh leaned toward Bryn. “They burn innocents that do things they are afraid of. Witches, most especially the Morrigan of all people and gods, have power and can protect themselves. Fromeveryone.”
The emphasis on the last part of her sentence told her Niamh wasn’t just talking about the enemies in their town, but the tormentor two doors down from her own.
It confirmed that Niamh had known to some extent what was happening at home, and Bryn wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Then the rest of the words hit her. Sage had informed Niamh of who Bryn truly was. Who else had she told? She knew deep down that Sage wouldn’t betray her, but a tiny part of her, the part that had severe trust issues, wondered if she did by accident in her haste and excitement. That outside the doors, right at that moment, there was a mob waiting for her to step outside.
“How much did you know about this, me”—Bryn waved to herself— “before Danu came? You seem to know more than you let on.”
Niamh sighed as she worked on a stitch, redoing it, before putting it down and rubbing the bridge of her nose.
“How much do you know about geases?” Niamh asked, stumping Bryn on where she was going with the topic.
“Next to nothing.”
“Before you came here, I was put under a geas and cannot tell you anything until I am released from it. Nothing about yourself or others of Danu’s children.” Niamh’s jaw clenched on the last part, making Bryn suspicious of what she knew of the others, but she continued. “But I can tell you my story, and perhaps that will settle your nerves, and mine, if there is one less secret between us.
“Now it is not something I enjoy rehashing, naturally, but I’ve lived a long time, and it is almost like someone else’s memory now.”
Bryn waited while Niamh looked off into space, gathering her thoughts, and then shook her head before she started.
“It happened so long ago that I couldn’t tell you dates or places with any sure accuracy, but I digress. I was a lord’s daughter in a time when daughters were nothing more than political playthings.” Bryn settled in, listening to Niamh, knowing now after speaking to Jace that it helped to speak of the pain, to share it with someone, even if they were not blood. Niamh was her family, and she needed to trust her family more.
“I fell in love, a taboo love, and hoped to stay unmarried.” Niamh’s jaw clenched, her eyes glittering with anger. Oh, Bryn had so many questions, but she chose to let Niamh tell her story instead of interrupting. Scooting to the edge of the bed to be closer to Niamh, she folded her hands in her lap as she listened.
“My father wanted me to marry higher, and I was betrothed to one of the wealthiest men in my city. I married him since I didn’t have a choice really, but he was horrible. Always using his fists and then taking me every night, willing or not. I went to a village healer, I didn’t know she was a witch of course, to prevent pregnancy, and she gave me the herbs to do so. I thought they were only that, to prevent a child. I wonder now if the bruises I tried to hide were why she gave me something more.”
Niamh gave a small sardonic smile as she tapped her nails on the arm of her chair before her face went serious again.
