Page 59 of Fang & Fury

Fern nodded before taking another swallow of wine. “Two of them.”

“What’s that about?”

“Maybe it’s the earth magic consuming them,” Darach suggested. “Back at Craeg Aonaranach, I was passing a group of warriors training when a woman fell in the mud … and instead of helping her up, her opponent just laid into her. Looked like he killed her.”

Ailsa’s lips pursed.

“You’re half right, Darach,” Kayla said as she cut bread with more force than was necessary. “But it’s not consuming them … it’s breaking them.”

“What do you mean?” Fern asked, frowning.

“There’s a reason why only those bearing the druidic gift are permitted to wield earth magic. Without it, the magic is volatile … too much of it and your mind will snap.”

Silence followed these words. Fern’s cup stopped halfway to her lips, while Ailsa shared a look with Darach.

Kayla cast Fern a sidelong glance then. “Did you know entering this hill would heal us of our battle wounds?”

“I had my suspicions,” the huntress replied cryptically. “Faerie mounds are difficult to predict, however … just like their inhabitants. You never know what might happen. Some people lose their memories … and others never want to leave.”

She shot a pointed look at Ailsa then, which Ailsa ignored. They all might think she was being foolhardy, but she wasn’t.

She glanced down then at her arms. Blood had dried on them, but the cuts she’d sustained during that fight earlier had scabbed during the long walk to this alcove; and every time she inspected them, they looked a little more healed.

Indeed, this was a strange place. Although that was hardly surprising, for the bavaan lived here.

She looked then over at the curtained area. She’d peeked behind it before sitting down and had found a privy bucket in one corner. There was a large pail of water too, as well as a basket of drying sheets with a rough block of soap. Apart from the freezing dunk in the river at the waterfalls, she hadn’t bathed properly since they’d fled Craeg Aonaranach, and her skin and scalp were beginning to itch. Once her belly was full, she’d scrub herself clean.

“Did Isleen say anything to you on the way here, Ailsa?” Kayla put down the bread knife and fixed her with a penetrating look.

“Not much,” Ailsa replied honestly.

Indeed, her mother had remained largely silent during the walk to the mound.

“What are you hoping she’ll tell you?”

Lifting her cup to her lips, she took a fortifying gulp. “I want to understand what it means to be bavaan.”

“Half bavaan,” Kayla corrected her firmly.

Ailsa huffed, waving her quibble away. “Isleen will be able to tell me if my urges will get worse. She might be able to tell me how to control them.” She paused then, warmth rolling over her. “And maybe she’ll tell me a little about my father.”

Silence followed these words.

Around the table, all three of her companions were frowning now.

Darach swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese and met her eye.

He was looking the best she’d seen him since they’d been reunited again. His face no longer looked gaunt in the glow of the nearby fire, and the cuts on his bare arms, including the deeper one upon his shoulder, seemed to have almost healed.

“Careful,” he said after a moment. “Your mother is likely to want more than just a chat with her long-lost daughter.”

Ailsa stiffened. “Such as?”

He shrugged, reaching for more bread. “You heard Fern before … some people never want to leave these places. Keep your guard up when you meet with her.”

“He’s right,” Fern said softly. She regarded Ailsa over the rim of her cup, her gray eyes veiled. “The bavaan have much in common with my people. We fae can be fickle. Question everything she tells you … and” —Fern’s gaze ensnared hers— “don’t make her any promises.”

Darach emerged from the bathing nook, toweling off his wet hair with a drying sheet. Sighing, he padded barefoot across to the glowing fire. It had been a relief to wash the blood, mud, and grime away. The faint scent of wild mint now lingered on his skin and hair from the soap.