Page 113 of Iron Blade

“I’m sorry, child,” Aoibheann whispered to me. “I know you care for him. He’s a good boy, but…”

Then her eyes darted to her own husband. The son was a copy of his father, and her meaning was clear. Given enough time, he would become Alastair Green. He was created in his image, and there would be no cure.

As if to punctuate her point, she said, “I hear that my own husband was a good man too, once…”

She reached out a hand to me, and I took it. She didn’t need to remind me.

I had made my choice.

The only choice I could make, given the circumstances. Now that there was more than just me to consider.

“Wife!” Eoghan called out, and I turned around to look at him, that smile again on my lips. “Don’t be gone too long, now. Or I’ll have to come find you.”

My smile faltered. His words were meant in love, but I heard the threat. I felt it right down to my core.

I was afraid of my own husband.

“Of course, love,” I said, giving him the slightest of curtsies.

I don’t know why I curtsied. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I just felt the grip of panic snaking around my throat and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, but I had to. I needed to get air. I needed to…

“Come, child,” Aoibheann said, leading me through the maze of common rooms where people loitered with tiny plates, talking about the dearly departed, and her unfortunate daughters.

She led me down a winding hallway, past other rooms where people sat and talked, drinks in hand. I could use a drink right now, but I knew I couldn’t.

We made the rounds, giving condolences, and offering shoulders to cry on. We listened to people in their grief for what felt like hours.

“This is my daughter-in-law,” Aoibheann kept saying. “We’re here to represent the women of the family…”

I kept following her lead, just like she told me to. I must have shaken a hundred hands, and given dozens of hugs. And each one of them looked at my ring in shock. I guess Isla Green’s ring had been a bit of a legend, and they were surprised that it was ever passed down.

Dazed, I followed Aoibheann wherever she wanted me to go.

We turned this way and that, the passing crowd disappearing, into a mudroom towards the back, saddled among lines of coats and shoes.

A woman waited there, her short blonde hair tucked behind her ear.

“What the fuck is this?” She hissed out like a snake when she saw me. “Who the fuck… Eoghan’s wife? Aoibhean!”

She was livid, her fists clenched.

I recognized her. Sinead Flanagan. The woman who my husband lamented as a lost sister. The woman he didn’t expect here.

When I saw her, my heart clenched with jealousy at Eoghan’s attention. Was there more to it than just a childhood together? Were they close? Did she know things about him that I didn’t?

Of course she does! She knew him before all of this… She knew what he was before this life carved itself into his psyche.

“You must take her,” Aoibheann said, her fingers clenched around mine. “She cannot stay here.”

“Have you seen my car? I barely have room to sneak out one person, and you expect me to get two out? I drive a fucking coupe!” Her whisper-shout coiled itself around me as I started putting the pieces together. Aoibheann had found her way out. She was going away… but now…

“You will just take her,” Aoibheann said, pulling me forward, and wrapping an arm around my waist. She put her free hand on my belly, and looked meaningfully down, communicating without words what my predicament was.

Sinead’s eyes went down, then up. She looked at Aoibheann, then me. Her eyes softened with pity.

“Fuck,” she said under her breath. “Do you have a plan? Do you have people you can run to?”

She looked around, coming close until the three of us were practically forehead-to-forehead, co-conspirators, quietly colluding in darkened halls.

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