Page 77 of Bloodwitch
“Yes, well.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Woodisdead. But that does not make it unsafe. See?” To prove his point, he tossed the first of their supply sacks on board. It thumped down beside the pulley, and the wood creaked like a ship at sea.
The ferry itself, though, scarcely budged.
Still, Iseult and Owl did not join the prince. Iseult had no interest in peeling her back off the mountainside, and Owl had no interest in peeling herself off Iseult.
“Have you used this before?” Iseult asked.
“Many times.”
“How many?”
Leopold heaved the second supply sack onto the ferry to a second fanfare of groaning wood. “I have ridden this four times? Perhaps five? Admittedly, I don’t use it every time I visit.”
As far as Iseult was concerned, “five times” did not equate to “many.”
“And how many times have you actually visited?” she asked, even as she knew she was stalling for time.
Leopold indulged her, his grin wide. The cold air suited him. His cheeks glowed pink. “I have been here more times than I can count, Iseult. Ever since I was a boy. The new Abbot is the sixth son of a Cartorran nobleman, and the Abbot before him was theeighthson. Men like that, you see, are useful to princes.”
Iseult did not in fact see, but she supposed she would learn soon enough what Leopold meant. No more standing here clutching Owl. No more waiting for courage to find her. After three stabilizing breaths, Iseult knelt beside the girl.
“We have to get on,” she said in her gentlest tones. “I know it’s scary, but we can’t stay here any longer.”
“Why?” Owl’s Threads hummed with red resistance.
“Because it’s the only way to reach the Monastery. And this”—Iseult motioned to the fog and narrow path—“isn’t a good campsite for us.”
“Why?”
“Why… what?” Iseult’s nose twitched. She did not want to argue. Everything had been going so well with Owl since last night.Please, Moon Mother, don’t let it stop now. “Why can’t we camp here? Or why are we going to the Monastery?”
Owl nodded, and Iseult had to assume she was nodding at the second question. “Because we’ll be safe with the monks.”
“I don’t want to.” Then, before Iseult could stop her, hundreds of tiny pebbles scuttled across Owl’s body, and within half a breath, she was hidden away.
This time, Iseult’s nose really wrinkled.Stasis,she reminded herself, even as fire sparked in her fingertips.
“I like it here,” Owl added, a tiny mouth appearing in the stones. “So I will stay.”
Ah,Iseult thought, and just like that, her frustration bled away. She had heard these words before. She hadsaidthose words before—ten years ago.I like it here. So I will stay.Her mother had tried to pull her from a tree in the Midenzi settlement. It wasthetree Iseult had always sought refuge in when the other children had turned on her.
On that particular day, Iseult had refused to come down when Gretchya called, so her mother had snipped, “Fine,” before walking away. It had made Iseult’s heart drop to her toes. Made her whole body feel empty. She had wanted her mother to argue with her. She hadwantedher mother to ask why she was even in the oak tree at all.
But Gretchya hadn’t asked that day, nor did she ask on any other.
Iseult wouldn’t make the same mistake.
“Why don’t you want to go?” Iseult aimed a taut smile at the stones.
“Dead,” Owl replied.
“Yes, but lots of things are dead, Owl. The inn we stayed at was dead. The leather on the saddle you rode was dead. It doesn’t mean it isn’t safe.”
More confusion in her Threads. Then a tiny frown.
“It’s the only way we can reach the Monastery, Owl. We have to take the ferry.”
“You could tell the rocks to bring you.” A tremor waved across the earth. It wobbled Iseult and knocked stones straight off the cliff.
