Page 86 of Bane of the Wild Hunt

“Rian,” my uncle broke in gently and tilted his head for me to come out to the main room. I set the bag of soap and oil on the table and followed him with a reluctant glance back at Nuala. She had begun to sip her tea as if it did not taste like wood and dirt.

Carrick walked all the way to the other side of the tent. After what she told me about her hearing, however, I was not sure Nuala would not still be able to catch our words, so I erected a silencing ward just in case.

“She may cling to the idea that her world is not safe,” he advised me. “Hoping for safety might be too much just yet untilshe comes to trust that she will not be crushed by that hope. So allow her to cushion her mind however she needs to for now. Even if it makes you uncomfortable to be perceived as an inevitable threat, do not take offense, just show her gentleness and patience.”

I nodded, crossing my arms.

“Perhaps a female would be better suited to—”

“She trustsyou, that is very evident. The choice should be hers, Rian. Everything, and I meaneverything, is her decision unless her wishes are extremely unsafe. And she may try to make bad choices just to feel her own power to do so, and I wouldlether. To a degree,” he amended.

I nodded and averted my eyes as I debated again on whether I was the right person to take this on.

“You brought her here because you have a use for her. Discarding her now because she requires—”

“I have no intention todiscardher,” I interrupted him sharply, turning my head to glare at him in offense that he would suggest such a thing. “But this is a sensitive role to step into, and I must be sensible about its reality given my existing obligations. Especially when time is short.”

Carrick inclined his head in a display of understanding and apology.

“You will have help,” he tried to assure me, but I could make no reply.

My eyes had fallen on a particular longbow resting on my weapons rack which was flawlessly crafted of yew wood with a well-worn leather grip. A short braid of my hair was tied along with red feathers from Pyrope’s wing to the upper limb above the string groove. I had a sudden urge to put my hand on the grip and see whether I could still feel the shape of the hand that had molded it.

A hand whose loving touch I would never feel again.

Emotion almost managed to overwhelm me, but I was able to repress it with all the fury that I could muster and then quickly turned away from the bow.

“And besides all of that, we both know that I am not well suited to nurturing survivors of abuse. I can barely contend with my own grief right now let alone that of Éadrom for whom I am most liable,” I pointed out coldly, allowing no emotion to break through while I spoke.

Carrick was quiet for a moment as he processed my meaning before he suddenly grabbed my arm to yank me back around to face him.

“You didnotfail Aodhan,” he growled furiously as I disbanded the silencing ward.

“I did, Carrick. As a leader and a lover. Ineveryway,” I maintained with such absolute certainty that not even my uncle seemed to know how to respond before I turned away from him.

“Rian!” he shouted, but I could not speak anymore. Not unless I wanted all the pain I had carefully tucked away to come out of me in a dangerous and anguished fury as it had the night before.

Gods, I needed a drink. I glanced at the right corner of my tent where Sage had left the remainder of my wine. Beneath the table, I hoped Aodhan’s silvercneasúpipe had survived my earlier fit of rage in the trunk.

“I will find some food for all of us,” Carrick offered when I did not stop, and I finally hesitated just outside the curtain to my bedchamber.

“Thank you,” I said over my shoulder. “Nuala?”

There was no answer, but I did not hear the splash of water either, so I slipped inside to find she was still sitting on the edge of my bed. The finished cup of tea was on the table in front of her, and she seemed to be waiting with her head turned toward Éadrom. My vargr had remained exactly as I had left him with his chin on his paws and his green eyes on the witch.

“He will not harm you,” I assured her as I made sure the curtain was closed fully behind me.

“He looks at me the same way that you do. Éadrom,” she spoke his name with a soft affection. A name that she could not have known since I hadn’t spoken it except to my uncle under a ward.

To my shock, the vargr’s ears perked, and he lifted his head to turn it curiously at her before lowering it back onto his paws again without removing his eyes from her.

“You know him from your visions as well?” I guessed as I went to kneel on the ground in front of her, but she had focused on my knees in evident confusion.

“Why do you kneel?”

I was taken utterly off guard by her question, so I took a moment to consider my response.

“Does it offend you?” I asked instead, hoping to learn more about her response to this innocuous action.

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