Page 18 of Bloodwitch
Until two weeks ago.
Now everything was muddied. Now Aeduan felt trapped between duty and life-debts. Between his father and a child. He could not fullyserve Ragnor while also searching for Owl’s tribe. He could not find Owl a home—or repay Iseult what he owed—while also remaining committed to coin and the cause.
He was caught, like the man from the tale who wanted to feed his family during a blizzard, but could not bear to kill the lamb. In the end, everyone died of starvation, including the lamb.
For Lady Fate makes all men choose eventually. Even Bloodwitches.
EIGHT
Somehow, Iseult had become the one in charge. She didn’t like it. Not one bit. First of all, she had never been to Tirla, and “follow the signs” was the only advice Aeduan had been able to give in his current condition.
Second of all, Owl simply would not listen to her. Like her namesake, she was a fighter. If Iseult asked the girl to do anything—from washing up at night to simply staying within sight while they trekked onward—the girl instantly dug in her heels and refused. Or she just pretended she couldn’t hear Iseult at all.
If Aeduan, however, asked her to do the exact same thing… oh,thenOwl obeyed in a heartbeat. The sunset Threads stretching from her toward Aeduan sinewed stronger each day. Aeduan might not have Threads, but Owl was undoubtedly bound to him.
Over their two weeks of travel, it had not been an issue. An annoyance, certainly, but Aeduan had always been there to sweep in and take charge of any stubborn situations. Now, with Aeduan barely clinging to consciousness and all of his focus on getting one foot in front of the other, Iseult had to control Owl all on her own.
It wasn’t going well. In fact, since that morning when Owl had thrown their trout breakfast on the fire, Iseult had decided she hatedthe girl. She knew it wasn’t a good look, hating children, but Iseult was also convinced that even Safi, who had an actual knack for handling little ones, would call this child a “thrice-damned demon from beyond the hell-gates.”
Owl argued witheverything. Breakfast. Washing up. Wearing shoes. Staying on the path. And at any hint of sharp words from Iseult, she would scuttle into the nearest branches and hide among the trees. Or, when no trees were near, the stones served just as well.
One moment, she’d be storming off. The next, she’d have vanished entirely, as if the earth had sucked her right in. Then before Iseult could try to find the girl, Blueberry would trundle over, nostrils huffing vast plumes of fetid air while his silvery Threads flashed bright with distaste for Iseult.
The feeling was mutual.
The closer they got to Tirla, the more people clotted the roadways, their mules and wagons churning the earth to mud. Nestled in the middle of the mountains, Tirla connected three borders, and with war coming after nineteen years of peace, people moved. Families fled the growing raider threat; soldiers mobilized to stop it; traders hoped to make coin off them all. At the first hint of one such artery leading to the city, Iseult had called a halt. She did not want to go traipsing into humanity with a mountain bat in tow.
Aeduan, coughing heavily, had instantly dropped to the earth beside the stream Iseult had chosen for their break. Its shore was thick with blackberries, yet Aeduan had swept aside the thorns, no thought for blood or pain, and then gulped back water until his attack subsided. He was of absolutely no use in the argument that followed.
“I do not like it either,” Iseult said to a pile of rocks that was vaguely girl-shaped and bore hateful gray Threads overtop. “But you have to tell Blueberry to stay hidden. We’ll soon be with other people, and if they see him, they’ll try to hurt him.”
“Can’t hurt,” the stones insisted, a small mouth appearing amidst the pile. “He’s bigger.”
“Yes,” Iseult was forced to agree. “And that’s the problem. If they attack him, he’ll attack right back.”
Pink acceptance swirled up the stones’ Threads, as if Owl thought this was perfectly reasonable.
“And,” Iseult went on, “we cannot have that. Owl, we need to get into Tirla to help Aeduan. Don’t you care about Aeduan?” As if on cue, the Bloodwitch started coughing once more.
Actually, itwason cue, for when she glanced his way, she found the faintest smile brushing his tired lips.
“Owl,” he said between dramatic hacks, “tell… Blueberry… to stay here. I promise we will not be away from him long.” Aeduan’s voice was in tatters and his posture pained, but still he sent a weary gaze to Iseult and mouthed:What else?
And, Iseult mouthed back,no magic.
A nod, but he did not speak right away. Instead, he wiped water from his mouth and motioned stiffly toward the trees. In gruff Dalmotti, he murmured, “It might be best if you leave. I do not think… That is to say, it is simpler with only two people.”
“You mean she hates me.” Unwelcome heat rushed to Iseult’s face, but she did as suggested, and without a backward glance, she hauled up their packs—roped together so she could carry them both—and strode into the forest, aiming for the nearest road.
She didn’t make it far before Blueberry materialized from the trees, as silent as a true bat and with Threads burning disdainfully. It was as if he thought it entirely Iseult’s fault that he could not join them in Tirla. As if he thought itIseult’sfault that Owl was upset or Aeduan had been badly injured.
Iseult couldn’t help it. In complete abandonment of all her Threadwitch training, she fixed the massive beast with a sneer—and goddess, it felt good. The way her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled. The way her teeth bared and heat plowed through her lungs.
Burn him. Heat flickered in her fingertips.Burn his furry flesh and then burn the little girl too.
Instantly, Iseult’s expression fell. Cold scoured through.
This was not her temper. This was not her fire. And this wasnother voice. She had been trained to keep her body cool when it ought to be hot, her fingers still when they ought to be trembling. She wastrained to ignore the feelings that drove everyone else, yet here she was: driven.Draggedby emotions she could not control.
