by Rebecca Ross
“The arrowhead’s in his bone,” Isla said, throwing the shaft into the fire.
“I can find and extract it,” I offered, stepping forward.
I worked beside her, wrapping the probes with linen, dipping the tips in rose honey. She requested for the two men who had remained in the room with us to continue holding Liam down, one at the shoulders, the other at the waist, and the healer and I began to gradually open the arrow wound with the probes. I was drenched in sweat by the time I found the arrowhead, a dark gleam of metal coated with blood, lodged in Liam’s rib.
I took up the tongs and lowered their point down into his wound until I found the arrowhead. I braced myself, crawling up to the side of the bed beside him, and heaved. The metal came loose and I went flying, tumbling down to the floor, into the table with a crash. But I held up the tongs, and in their pincers was the arrowhead.
Ah, if only Cartier had been here to see me do this. He would be sad that he had missed it.
Isla nodded curtly to me, turning back to Liam to remove the probes and begin cleaning his wound. The two men still held Liam, but they bowed their heads to me with a respect I had never seen or felt here before.
I rose and set the tongs down, handing Isla the linen while I held the jar of honey.
“We’ll have to wait and see if his lung is affected,” Isla said, finishing with her healing poultice. “As for his face . . . I am going to have to try and bring it back together. Do you know your herbs, Mistress Brienna?”
“Yes. What do you need?”
“Star thistle,” she replied. “It grows in patches in the eastern woods, by the river.”
“I’ll go and harvest some.” I quickly strode from the room, down the corridor, into the hall.
I was not expecting there to be a crowd gathered, the men and women sitting quietly at the tables, somberly waiting for news about Liam. They all stood at my entrance, and I stopped short, feeling their gazes go to the blood on my hands, the blood smeared on my dress and my face. Thorn was the only one to approach me.
“Is he dead?” the chamberlain asked.
“No. The arrow has been removed.” I continued to the foyer, the MacQuinns parting before me. Again, I began to sense their respect as I walked among them, as they moved to let me pass, as their eyes continued to follow me. I realized it, then, that they were awaiting orders from me.
I stopped on the threshold, wondering what sort of order I should give. I pivoted on my heel, one breath away from saying they should cease work for the day, that something was afoot on MacQuinn lands and I needed to try and sort through this, when Thorn stole the moment.
“Everyone back to your work,” the chamberlain said gruffly. “No sense in wasting the remainder of a workday.”
The men and women began to leave the hall. I stood beneath the archway until Thorn looked at me.
“I need to speak with you when I return, Thorn,” I said.
He appeared flustered by my request but nodded and said, “Of course, Mistress Brienna.”
I walked to the foyer, snagging a basket on my way out. It was early afternoon, and the sky was overcast. I took a moment to stand and brush the hair from my brow, my back beginning to ache.
“Mistress Brienna!”
I turned to see Neeve hurrying toward me, my hound, Nessie, a few steps behind with her tongue lolling out.
Neeve stopped short at the sight of the blood on me, her hands fluttering up to her mouth.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m going to gather some star thistle.”
Neeve swallowed her fear, lowering her hands. “I know where that grows. Let me help you.”
Together, we walked a good distance from sight of the castle, where the trees began to thicken along the riverbank. I gave Neeve my dirk, so she could cut the thistle without touching the barbs, and we worked in harried silence, filling the basket.
I was on my knees, struggling with a stubborn thistle, when I heard the snap of a branch in the thicket. And I would have thought nothing of it had Nessie not started to growl at my side, her hackles rising, her teeth bared.
“Nessie,” I whispered, but I peered into the shadows of the thicket, into the thick tangle of bushes and trees. A cold warning washed down my spine as I felt the prickling stare of hidden eyes.
Someone was within that thicket, watching me.
Nessie began to bark, sharp and angry, taking another step closer to the thicket.
Every hair on my body rose, and I stumbled to my feet. “Neeve? Neeve!”
My sister rushed into the clearing, coming from my left. I shuddered with relief to see her, my dirk still in her fingers.
“What? What is it?” She panted, noticing how Nessie continued to growl and slink closer to the shadows. “Is it the beast?”
“Beast?” I echoed.
“The beast that attacked Liam?”
I looked back into the thicket. It was no beast, I wanted to tell her. It was a man.
I gathered the basket of thistle onto my arm and took my sister with the other. “Come, we need to return. Nessie? Nessie!”
The dog relented to obey, only when she was assured that I was moving away from the danger. The three of us all but ran from the trees into the open air, into the gray light and thin patches of sunlight. I was sore for breath by the time we reached the castle foyer.
“Do you have your own dirk, Neeve?” I asked when she tried to hand the little blade back to me.
“No,” she responded. “Lord Allenach forbade us from having them.”
“Well, this one is yours now.” I lifted my skirts to unbuckle the scabbard bound at my leg. I handed it to her, waited until I was sure she had fastened it to her thigh, the dirk snugly in place, hidden beneath her dress. “Wear it always. And if someone should threaten you, I want you to cut them here or here.” I pointed to her neck, to her underarm.
Her eyes went large, but she nodded, acquiescing to my order. “What about you, Mistress?”
“I’ll get another blade.” I touched her arm, squeezed gently to reassure her. “Do not wander anywhere alone, even when you walk from the loom house to the castle. Always ask for someone to accompany you. Please.”
“Because of the beast?”
“Yes.”
Neeve was doing her best to quell her fright, to appear brave. But I could see how pale and worried she was. Gently, I drew her forward to drop a kiss on her brow. She went still beneath the affection, and I scolded myself for being too forward. This is not how the Lady of MacQuinn would behave, and I could see that I was confusing her.
“Go along now,” I whispered with a gentle nudge, and Neeve retreated down one of the corridors, glancing at me with a dark gleam in her eyes, as if she was beginning to feel the sightless threads that bound us.
I returned to Liam’s room, handing the healer the basket of thistle. We worked together in silence, crushing the blooms into a fine dust that she mixed with the honey into salve. She had brought Liam’s face back together while I was gone, and I helped her wipe the salve on the thane’s cross-hatching of stitches. While I washed my hands, the healer gently wrapped his face with fresh strips of linen.
“No beast made these wounds, Mistress Brienna,” the healer said gravely.
“Yes, I know.” I struggled to breathe, remembering the creeping sensation that someone had been in the woods, watching me, only an hour ago. “Do you mind sitting with him for a while? I can come relieve you at sundown.”
“Of course, Mistress.” She nodded and I promptly left, calling for Thorn to meet me in Jourdain’s office. I sat in my father’s chair as the chamberlain stood before me, fidgeting.
“I am sure you gathered information as to what happened this morning while I was tending to Liam,” I stated.
“Yes, Mistress. Liam went hunting with Phillip and Eamon,” Thorn began. “This is not unusual. The three of them are close, and have hunted many times together the past three weeks. Liam came riding back to the castle, barely in the
saddle, shot by an arrow with his face mangled. The men who helped carry Liam into the courtyard said all he could rasp was one word. Beast. He said it twice before losing consciousness, just before you arrived, Mistress. While you and Isla were tending to him, I sent out a scout to locate the other two men. They were found dead in the northern meadow, their faces also mangled, but they had suffered deep punctures to their abdomens. I fear that . . .” He hesitated.
I waited, brow arched. “You fear what, Thorn?”
He glanced to the bloodstains on me and sighed. “I fear their entrails were spilled out, all over the grass.”
I was quiet for a moment, staring into the shadows of the room. I felt horror, to know these two men had died in such a brutal way. And while I wanted to sink into shock, I knew that I couldn’t afford to. “Would not a beast eat the men, rather than play with their entrails?”
Thorn was silent, almost as if he had never thought this.
“Furthermore, what manner of beast shoots an arrow, Thorn?”
The chamberlain flushed, indignant. “Why are you asking me such things, Mistress? How am I to know? I am merely telling you what I have uncovered!”
“And I am merely engaging you in conversation, so we can solve this terrible mystery.”
“Mystery? There is no mystery here,” he countered. “This was a tragic accident! Most of the men believed that Eamon or Phillip tried to shoot the beast when it attacked, and their arrow glanced into Liam by mistake.”
This could be, I thought. But again, something felt off. And I sat back, thinking that things had not felt right since I had departed Lyonesse.
“Do you have the arrow fletching?” Thorn surprised me by asking. “If you wanted to give it to me, I can tell you if it was one of our arrows, or if it is an arrow from another House.”
My hope rose, and then swiftly fell when I remembered how the healer had thrown the shaft into the fire, irritated that she had accidentally broken it. “No. There is no fletching.”
“Then I do not know what else to tell you, Mistress Brienna. Other than I am deeply sorry you are the one who must handle this. Your father should have sent Lord Lucas home.”
I had to clamp down on my irritation.
“Where are Phillip’s and Eamon’s bodies now?” I questioned, rubbing my aching temples.
“They are being prepared for burial by their wives.”
I needed to go to those wives, assist them with the preparations. Rising, I said, “I want you to send out a group of warriors to scout the surrounding land, all the way to the territory borders. Start in the eastern woods, where the star thistle grows.”
He frowned at me. “But Mistress . . . why?”
“Why?” I nearly laughed. “Because there is a beast loose in the demesne, killing our people.”
“So you would have me risk more of us to take it down? It’s most likely a bear, and has run back to its cave. I’ve already scouted and told you that we found nothing but Phillip’s and Eamon’s bodies.”
“Thorn. This beast is not a bear. It’s a man. He’s most likely a Halloran, and he’s most likely got a group of cronies with him. Find them and bring them to me. Do you understand?”
“The Hallorans?” He gaped at me. “This is absurd! Are you trying to start a war?”
“If I were trying to start a war, you would not have to ask me. You would know it,” I stated coldly. “Now go and do as I request of you, before you test the last bit of my patience.”
He still had that shocked gleam in his eyes as he departed, like he could not believe my orders.
I waited until the door was closed, and then I sat once more, my legs trembling.
It had to be the Hallorans.
I thought of Pierce, of his humiliation, of how we were refusing to fulfill his tapestry. Was this retaliation for that?
Watch your back, Brienna.
Grainne’s warning rang once more, and I thought about how she and the Dermotts had suffered the Hallorans’ raids for years.
What would I do if Thorn brought back the Hallorans? What would I do to them?
I had no idea. And that, perhaps, frightened me more than anything else.
I was in Liam’s room later that evening, boiling a pot of herbs over the fire to cleanse the air, when Thorn found me. The old man was splattered in mud and looked bone weary as he approached me.
“We found nothing, Mistress Brienna. Nothing but birds and squirrels and rabbits,” he said tersely, as if to express, Didn’t I tell you so?
I stood so that I could fully face him. It was only me and him and Liam in the room. I had sent Isla off to dinner for a little bit of respite.
Thorn glanced to where Liam continued to lie on the bed. “How is he?”
“He’s still breathing,” I replied, but my words were heavy. It was as Isla and I had feared: Liam had fallen unconscious, and his breathing had become labored. Isla was skeptical that he would survive the night.
But I did not tell Thorn this. I tossed another bough of peppermint into my boiling pot, praying the herbs would clean the thane’s lungs, even as his breaths became weaker.
“Go to dinner, Thorn. You have done enough for the day.”
He left with a sigh, and I sat at Liam’s side until Isla returned to relieve me.
I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I walked out to the front courtyard and whistled for Nessie.
My wolfhound dutifully appeared, as if she had been waiting for me to summon her. I brought Nessie up to my room, invited her to sleep on the bed beside me.
While she wallowed in my quilts, I took my broadsword in my hands. I unsheathed the blade, admiring it before climbing into bed. I set the sword on mattress beside me, the hilt ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice.
And then I lay down, dog on one side, steel on the other, and watched the firelight cast shapes upon my ceiling.
I don’t remember falling asleep. I must have drifted away gradually, because the next thing I knew, Nessie was growling.
My eyes opened wide to drink in the darkness, my fire burned to embers. I lay there frozen.
Nessie growled again, and that’s when I heard it. A soft, hesitant rap on my door.
“Peace, Nessie,” I ordered her, and she quieted.
I slipped from the bed, sword in hand, and began to creep to my door.
“Mistress Brienna?”
It was Thorn. I let out an annoyed sigh and cracked my door, to see the chamberlain standing with a candle, waiting for me to answer.
“What is it now, Thorn?”
“There’s someone I think you need to see,” he whispered. “Hurry, come with me. I think it has to do with . . . the attack.” And then he looked beyond me, where Nessie continued to growl. His eyes widened ever so slightly in apprehension.
“Give me a moment.” I shut the door so I could slip on my boots and draw my passion cloak about my collar. I belted my sword’s baldric across my chest, letting the sword settle comfortably between my shoulder blades, her hilt peeking up behind me, ready to be grabbed.
When I opened the door again, Thorn was waiting a few feet away.
“She’ll be afraid of the dog,” he muttered to me, and I paused on my threshold.
“She?”
“Yes. One of the lasses says she knows something about the attack. She wishes to speak with you about it.”
That surprised me, but I relented to leave Nessie in my chamber, despite her whines.
I followed Thorn through the castle, the corridors dark and quiet. I expected that he would guide me into one of the storerooms, so when he led me out into the front courtyard, the stones and moss gilded in moonlight, I hesitated.
“Where is this lass?” I asked, my breath emerging as a cloud. “And who is she?”
Thorn turned to look at me. He looked frail and old in that moment. “She’s in the loom house. I couldn’t persuade her otherwise.”
“The loom house?” I echoed. There was a moment of hesitation—this
felt odd and strange—but then I thought of how much Jourdain trusted Thorn, trusted him enough to let him guide and oversee the castle affairs. And so I relented to follow him along the path down the hill, the grass long and lank beneath us, curling about our boots. The wind extinguished his candle, so we moved by the moon and the stars.
When the loom house came into view, an inky blot against the silk of night, I noticed there was no light within the windows. The building was sleeping, like all the others.
I paused, a thread of fear pulling my heart down to my stomach. “Thorn?”
The chamberlain stopped, turned to look at me. I could see it in his face that someone was now behind me, and before I could move to draw my sword, I felt the warning of a blade brush my neck.
“Don’t move, Brienna,” Pierce whispered in my ear.
I didn’t. But my heart was breaking into pieces. “Why?” It was all I could say to Thorn, the betrayal tightening my throat.
“We wanted Lucas,” Thorn said. “So I asked for Lucas to return. But your father was fool enough to send you instead. I’m sorry, Brienna. Truly, I am.”
“How could you betray your own lord?” I rasped, but then the truth hit me like a blow to my chest. I knew exactly what Thorn was. And I wanted to laugh, angry at myself for not taking my own advice.
Had I not instructed Sean to pull up the sleeves of his seven thanes, to test for the mark?
I had believed no MacQuinn had joined the half-moons, but how foolish I had been, to think corruption only spread to certain Houses.
Pierce’s arm came about my waist. I felt him unbuckle my baldric, my one and only weapon slipping off my body. I could hear the steel land in the grass, swept away from me.
“My father will kill you when he discovers this,” I said, surprised by how calm I sounded.
Thorn only shook his head. “Lord MacQuinn will never know.”
Pierce wrestled me to the ground, stuffing a rag in my mouth as he bound my wrists behind my back. I could still see Thorn, looming over me, the stars smoldering in the night behind him. I watched as Pierce passed him a purse of coins; I saw Thorn’s sleeve shift as he reached for it, the inked half-moon stark at his wrist.