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“Yes,” I gave her a nod.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said. “Did you succeed?”
When I didn’t respond, Brigid did.
“We freed the prisoners,” she said. “But we lost two of our own.”
Amarra’s smile didn’t wither. “So the prince will take back his crown.”
“Leof is dead,” I told her. “Remember him? He was with you when you woke me up. Alisson is dead too...”
“Soldiers die in battle all the time,” Amarra said, interrupting me. “It’s not your...”
“But it is,” I stopped her. “I made them come with me.”
“She isn’t used to leading fae into their deaths,” Brigid commented.
“She might be feeling a bit more than usual since she is in their minds,” Amarra dismissed Brigid’s comment. “We could take care of that. We can find a way for you to block them off.”
Amarra didn’t know what she was talking about.
Niamh and Muir had gone off, and the others had taken off as well. The camp was still busy as food was being prepared for all. There wasn’t enough food to last us in the coming days, but the hunters were already making plans to solve that problem. A group of young boys and girls were thinking of going into the forest first thing in the morning to collect firewood. Two women, despite the tiring journey they just took, were carrying water from the lake to boil it so that everyone would have water through the night. Three men were digging a ditch for the toilets.
Everyone worked. Everyone felt. Every single one of them thought about what was to come.
“I don’t want to block them off,” I replied. “If I send them to battle, I have to know what that means. If I ask them to risk their lives, I have to witness them lose it.”
“You sound like a leader,” Casja commented.
“She thinks I sound like an idiot,” I kept staring at Amarra. “Don’t you?”
“You can’t see my mind?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’m blocking you off.”
Amarra seemed offended about that, even though that was what she had suggested a moment ago, concerning the monster folk.
There was a loaded pause.
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Amarra said. “I just want you to protect yourself.”
I looked at her. The urge to pick a fight with her was strong. She had failed to protect me as a mother, and now, she demanded I protect myself from feeling things? It made no sense.
But arguing with her would give her even more say in the matter.
“We should eat,” I said to Brigid as I attempted to move toward the pot.
“I can get you some, Liberator,” a woman with short black hair reaching to her shoulders said, getting in my way as though the thought of me pouring some soup for myself was unimaginable. This was the first time we were meeting face to face, as she was older and had a limp so she had stayed with the others at camp. Her name was Mona.
“Don’t call me that,” I said, and upon seeing the expression on her face I added: “Please.”
But Mona wanted to help me. I could hear it in her thoughts.
“I’ll have some, thank you,” I smiled at her.
Mona eagerly went to the pot and started pouring soup for all of us.
Amarra joined us without expecting an invite as we took our bowls from Mona and sat down.
