Page 54 of Bride of Mist
“If I knew the truth, if you can tell me exactly what happened…”
“What happened?” he scoffed. “Why don’t ye ask the mac Girics?”
“I haven’t got the mac Girics. I’ve only got you.”
He lowered his brows. He compressed his lips. He ground his teeth. The attack was obviously something he didn’t wish to relive.
“Bloody hell,” he said at last on a vexed breath. “Fine. Ye want to know what happened? I’ll tell ye what happened.”
Apparently unsure whether to trust her, he continued to grasp her wrist, as if his human shackle could prevent her escape. He lowered the sword, however, and pushed himself up until he was sitting on his woolen plaid. Then he nodded to the cloth, indicating she could sit beside him.
As he began to speak through clenched teeth, he worked his thumb back and forth over his clasped fingertips in agitation. It couldn’t be easy to recount a massacre.
“There was to be a christenin’ at Kirkoswald,” he said.
She lowered herself onto the plaid. “Where exactly is Kirkoswald?”
“A few miles from Castle Darragh.”
“But that’s four days’ ride from Creagor.”
“Three if ye’ve got a fast mount.”
She frowned. That made no sense. “What dispute could the mac Girics have with villagers a hundred miles away?”
“How am I to know?”
She tapped thoughtfully at her lip. It was possible, though unlikely, that a few rogue mac Girics might have slipped away to perpetrate the violence.
“How many men attacked the village?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
She blinked. “But you saw…mac Girics…setting fire to the church?”
He sighed. “Nay.”
She was taken aback. “Nay?”
He stared morosely into the flames.
“Nay?” she repeated.
He cursed under his breath. Then he choked out, “I arrived too late.”
“I see.”
She nodded. So he’d only seen the aftermath. And he likely blamed himself for what had transpired. For not arriving earlier.
No wonder he had nightmares.
Despite wishing to kill him only moments ago, she felt sorry for the Westlander.
“The villagers,” she continued gently, “they didn’t say how many attackers there were?”
“The villagers?” His voice was bitter. “What villagers?” A muscle twitched along his clenched jaw. “There were none left. The mac Girics killed them all.”
“What about the women? The children?”
