Page 38 of Ashes of Betrayal

The elderly woman bustled in then, bringing fresh drying sheets and soap, followed by her husband shortly after, with two large buckets of water. “We’ll heat these in the cauldron over the fire,” the old man instructed before lighting the logs waiting in the fire pit. His wife then tipped the water into the cauldron.

“Just ask if you need anything else,” his wife sang out as they departed.

In the cramped lean-to, Bree eyed the iron pot full of water that now simmered over the flames. “Curse it,” she muttered. “I can’t escape iron.”

“You won’t in Albia,” Cailean replied. “But I’ll pour the water into the washbowl when it’s ready.”

Bree nodded, still avoiding his eye. Nonetheless, she was grateful he wasn’t being obstructive.

She let her glamor fall then, for they were alone now.

Feeling his gaze upon her, she shrugged off her cloak and hung it from a hook on the wall. She then moved over to a stool, pulled it back from the hearth—so she wasn’t too close to the iron cauldron—and waited. As awkward as this situation was, it was a luxury to have proper lodgings for the night.

Once the water was warm enough, Cailean used the thick leather gloves the elderly couple had left to heave the pot off the flames and pour some steaming water into the earthen washbowl on the nearby table.

Bree watched the way his heavily muscled arms rippled as he swung the pot around as if it weighed nothing. The sight made her chest grow tight. In the past, she’d never thought the brawn of Marav males was attractive. But that was beforehim.

Cailean hung the pot back up over the fire and headed for the door without a backward glance. “I’ll be back later.”

The wattle door rattled shut behind him, and Bree let out a deep sigh. She then rose to her feet and started to undress. The clipped edge to his voice warned she wouldn’t see him for a while. In the meantime, she’d bathe and look at the wound on her arm.

He agreed you could accompany him as far as Morae,a voice whispered to her then.But what will you do if he continues without you tomorrow? You can’t keep stalking the man.

Bree’s breathing grew shallow. No, she couldn’t. Instead, she had to find a way to convince him he needed her at his side.

“Aye, the fighters were here.” The smithy wiped a meaty arm across his forehead, leaving a streak of soot behind. “But they only stayed a day.”

Cailean’s gaze narrowed. “Why was that?” He stood in the doorway of the smoky forge. Outside, night was settling over Morae. He’d asked at a few places, and no one had been helpful. Until he’d stopped here.

“Our chieftain refused to throw any of his men into the ring.” The blacksmith cast Cailean an assessing look, no doubt taking in the enforcer tattoos that covered his arms and snaked up his neck. “With war looming, he doesn’t want to waste resources.”

Cailean nodded. That made sense. Even so, frustration pounded like a fist against his ribs. He was still one step behind Eilig.

“Do you know where they went?”

“They took the highway west … heading to Cannich presumably. My wife passed them on the road. A ragged group they were too.”

Cailean took this in with interest. Once, Eilig mac Frang had led the most successful fighting band in Albia. No wonder his former master had been so difficult to find. His fights no longer drew crowds.

At first light tomorrow, he’d make for Cannich.

In many ways, The Upland capital was the best place for him to face Eilig again. It was big enough for him to move about without drawing too much attention to himself, and the sort of place where his former master would linger a few days. He’d be getting desperate to earn some coin now.

However, there was another reason why Cannich suited him.

The overking would have druids working for him—and at least one sacrificer among them. The following evening would be a full moon. Gateway was upon them. The fight with the hill-tribe warriors had drained Cailean, he could feel exhaustion starting to pull at his bones, a sign he needed to take part in a blood-letting.

It would be best if he was at full strength when he took on Eilig.

The fight master would be aging now, and by all accounts was lame these days. It had been twenty years since he’d seen him last. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him.

Bree was sitting a few yards back from the fire, wrapped in a drying sheet, when the wattle door creaked open and Cailean ducked inside.

However, upon seeing her half-clad state, he halted abruptly, his gaze raking over her. “I thought you’d be dressed.” His tone was almost accusing.

“I washed some of my clothes earlier,” she replied, gesturing to the garments hanging on the wall next to the fire. “They’re almost dry.” Pausing, her gaze settled upon his face. “Did you find out what happened to Eilig?”

“Aye.” His eyes glinted then.

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