Page 97 of Kill the Beast
“You arenotfine. We have to get you back to Ragnhild’s.”
“There’s something I want to do first,” Lyssa said.
Alderic looked bewildered and pleased all at once as she closed the distance between them. He opened his arms as if anticipating her embrace; instead, she cocked back her fist and punched him in the face. He staggered back, clutching his nose. “Ow!”
“That’s for lying to me.”
“I suppose I deserved that,” he said, his voice thick with the blood now cascading out of his nostrils. When he straightened, she wrapped her good arm around him in an awkward side-hug. “And this?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist in return.
“This is for seeing whoIreally am, and being my friend anyway.”
He pulled her closer and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. Lyssa laughed, dizzy with adrenaline and relief. Alderic laughed with her, breathy and trembling. Then their laughter turned to tears, until the sharpness of the almost-tragedy softened and they circled back around to laughter again.
“They’re going to write a ballad about this, you know,” Alderic said, and, to Lyssa’s horror, he broke into song. “Lyssa with the cold-hearted stare, there was a beast for whom she did care. It looked like a monster but in truth it was not, sir—it was her good friend Alderic in there.”
She pulled away to glare at him. “Do you want me to punch you again?”
“Not particularly,” he said, his grin lighting up his entire face. The sight of it sent a bloom of affection through her, and she let it fill her with its warmth. Let herself smile back at him.
It was over. They had done it.
They had won.
“Then shut up,” she told him. “I’m in enough pain as it is, without you adding to it with whateverthatwas.”
Lyssa and Alderic limped through the stone archway, leaning heavily on one another. A crow flung itself from a branch overhead and somersaulted into Nadia with a frantic blur and a harsh caw of delight that still sounded more bird than girl. The little witch threw her arms around Alderic with a sob of relief, and then—to Lyssa’s bemused surprise—hugged her just as fiercely.
“What happened? How did—”
“Later,” Lyssa said as Nadia pulled away from the embrace. “After I have a cup of coffee, something to eat, and a soak in the hot springs. In that order.”
“Hot springs first,” Alderic said, looking pointedly at her shoulder.
“You’re bleeding,” Nadia noticed with a frown. “Quite a lot, actually.”
Lyssa shrugged with her good shoulder. “I’ve had worse. Coffee first.”
Nadia bounded ahead, shouting for Ragnhild. Lyssa and Alderic moved at a much slower pace, Lyssa looking up at the soft golden light spilling through the leaves overhead. The sun was warm on her face, and her head still swam with the strangeness of it all, the feeling of one life ending and another beginning. The thought scared her—she had no idea who she was without her oath, her vengeance. But beneath that fear was a glimmer of excitement, and she realized that she was looking forward to whatever came next, as long as she had her friends by her side.
Her family.
As Lyssa and Alderic stood at the bottom of the porch steps, contemplating how to get up them without breaking every single one of Ragnhild’s potted plants, the kitchen door burst open anda bullmastiff-shaped blur slammed into them, obliterating said plants and almost knocking them on their asses.
“I’m here, darling,” Lyssa murmured as she knelt stiffly to let Brandy lick her face, Alderic kneeling alongside her so that she wouldn’t topple over. Brandy’s entire body wriggled with excitement, lips pulling back in the dog-approximation of a grin. He gave Lyssa’s cheek one last slobbery kiss and then turned his attention to Alderic.
Lyssa got to her feet with a grunt to find Ragnhild leaning against the kitchen doorframe, a smile on her lips.
“Is it done, then?” she asked.
Lyssa nodded, overcome by the pride on the old witch’s face. When she could finally speak again, she said, “It’s done. The Beast of Buxton Fields is no more.”
Rags nodded back, her rheumy eyes shining. “Coffee will be ready soon. We’re having mutton for dinner, with parsnips.”
“Good,” Lyssa said as she trudged up the porch steps, her legs and back protesting loudly. She would have given up on the cruel climb, if not for the scent of coffee coaxing her onward. “I’m starving.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
