“Whatever everyone is avoiding telling me,” he explained, “which I’m assuming has something to do with me waking up with my wound healed, and a fresh scar on my palm.”
“There is much to explain,” Finn began, her gaze returning to her lap, “but to put it quite simply, I mixed my immortal blood with your mortal blood, thus giving you a fraction of my life force.” She met his eyes briefly, then quickly added, “I had little choice, you were about to die.”
Stunned, he sat down on the bed beside her, holding his palm open to stare at the new scar. Finn held out her own hand, revealing a matching mark.
He stared at their hands side by side. “I’m afraid I cannot quite comprehend what you’re telling me.”
“Does it matter?” she asked, her expression pleading. “You are alive and well now.”
He closed his hand and rested it in his lap, then turned to fully meet her worried gaze. “I’m not sure what I should say, or what I should ask, but I suppose I should start with thanking you.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief. He had a feeling there was much she wasn’t telling him, but he’d get it out of her once she was ready. For the time being, he could only think of two important questions.
“Will this change anything for me?” he asked, “Having a bit of your . . . immortal blood?” It was odd to even think of Finn as an immortal being. Rationally he knew she was hundreds of years old, but just being with her, he simply couldn’t fathom it.
“I do not know,” she breathed, gazing distantly at the cold fireplace. “I apologize.”
He nodded, not as worried about that answer as he was about the next one.
He took a deep breath. “Will this change anything for you?”
Her shoulders gave a slight jump, as if he’d surprised her. She turned wide eyes to him, her jaw slightly agape. He had the urge to lift his hand to gently close it, but resisted.
She blinked several times, considering her answer. “I feel the same as I always have, but I’m not sure, really. I believe,” she hesitated, “I believe there will be consequences, but only time will tell what those consequences might be.”
He nodded again, then decided not to resist his next urge. He took her scarred hand in his and gently traced the mark she’d incurred for him. She had resumed looking at her lap, and he finally had to use his free hand to turn her face to him. She still seemed to think he was going to react badly.
He smiled to reassure her. “My thanks, dear lady.”
She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. You may still curse me yet.”
He laughed. “I have cursed you several times already. It doesn’t seem to have worked.”
Finally she smiled. “And I you. Perhaps I’m to blame for your poor luck.”
“Whatever do you mean?” he joked. “It’s not every day a man gets to fight assassins and live.”
She laughed as he stood, then pulled her up off the bed with their joined hands. “We should probably pack up and move on before said assassins come and stab me all over again. I don’t want to push my luck with requiring your blood a second time.”
She grinned mischievously. “A wise choice, as I’d be loath to give it to you again.”
He playfully glared at her, and she tugged her hand free to shove his shoulder.
Together they left the room and went back downstairs to join the others. He was still horribly confused, but there was one thing he now knew for sure. Finn cared whether he lived or died, and that was worth all of the consequences in the world.
While Kai and Finn discussed things privately, Iseult left the common room to tend the horses. He’d watched over them most of the night, only briefly relieved by Sativola, who seemed to not have suffered any of the negative reactions to his wounds as Kai.
It had been nearly morning by the time Sativola relieved him, and he’d gone upstairs to find Finn asleep in a chair in Kai’s room. He’d carried her to her own room, at which time she’d woken and detailed all she had experienced.
He trusted none of it. Finn believed the woman she’d encountered was her mother, but without her memories, there was no way to know for sure. The woman had previously admitted she traveled with the Cavari, and the Cavari were after Finn.
He stroked his horse’s soft muzzle as it shifted its hooves, clearly ready to get back on the road. So was he. He’d never remained in one place for long. As long as he kept moving, he felt like the ghosts of the past would never find him. A chill crept up his spine.
Now they had more reasons to keep moving than ghosts. Though Finn had easily bested the assassins, he suspected they might still follow and try again. Slàine did not seem the type to give up, and neither did Maarav.
He frowned, realizing he half-wished Maarav would follow. Here he had been ready to be rid of his brother, and now he found he almost missed him. Almost.
It made sense, he supposed. The idea of family had always appealed to him, but it was something he’d hardly known. He didn’t know what to do with the emotions it elicited.
He was saved from his own thoughts by Bedelia, the companion he questioned even more than Maarav. Her muddy brown hair, styled unusually short for a woman, framed the grim line of her mouth and her determined eyes.
He turned to face her, noting that her bow was nowhere in sight, and her hands were relaxed at her sides, not poised near the pommel of her blade.
“I have something I must tell you,” she said upon reaching him, brushing her pin-straight hair behind her ear. She wore her lightweight armor, and had her belongings slung across her shoulder, as if preparing to leave . . . though that did not make sense without her bow. Perhaps she wanted to project an air of harmlessness. He knew better.
Leaning back against the wooden poles of the stable, he gestured for her to continue.
She sighed. “This would be easier if you wouldn’t eye me so coolly.”
He crossed his arms. “It is the only way I know how to . . . eye.”
Her shoulders slumped as she looked down at her feet, then seemed to force herself to meet his gaze. She eyed him defiantly. “I wanted to say this to Finn, but I fear I am not brave enough. I know you and she are close, so I hoped you could be the judge. Tell me whether I should tell her, or tell me to leave.”
He nodded for her to go on, hiding his surprise. He knew she was hiding something, but had never suspected she’d so easily divulge her secrets.
She opened her mouth to speak, then turned her gaze as the inn door opened. Anna and Sativola hurried toward them.
“An Fiach is near,” Anna huffed. “We must depart immediately.”
“How do you know?” Bedelia gasped.
Anna glared at her, then turned her gaze to Iseult. “I just know,” she hissed. Her eyes urged him to comprehend what was unsaid. She must have experienced one of her visions. “We must leave,” she pressed. “Please trust me.”
Iseult found that against his better judgement, he did trust her. He knew she could see things others could not, and her goals were currently aligned with his. If Anna said they needed to depart, then it was wise to listen.
“Ready the horses,” he ordered, his gaze on Anna and Sativola.
“But-” Bedelia began to interrupt, but he cut her off with the raise of his hand.
“You come with me,” he instructed. “We’ll help the others gather our supplies, then we will depart.”
Bedelia’s shoulders hunched, but she nodded and followed him toward the inn, while Anna and Sativola branched off toward the horses. Iseult would get everyone moving, then he’d aid them with the saddling.
Like an angry storm, he burst through the inn’s double doors to find Finn and Kai frantically speaking with the innkeep. Anna had obviously already alerted them. Good.
He turned toward Bedelia. “Gather your weapons and check the rooms. Then return to aid Anna and Sativola with the horses.”
She nodded and rushed off toward the interior stairs. While it was against his better judgement to let her out of his sight, time was short, and he’d just keep Finn in his sights instead.
He approached the pair arguing with the innkeep, just as the stout, round-bellied man waved them off.