Contents ( 20)
- Praise for Daughter of the Forest
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter One
- Tor Books by Juliet Marillier
Red was very pale, but he was determined to speak. “For whom did she work, for whom did she keep her silence these three years, for whom did she choke back her laughter and her tears and her screams of pain? You accepted what she did for you. You are as guilty as I, all of you.” He had taken the support of Ben’s arm; gripping it, his hand was white at the knuckles.
It was as if they had forgotten I was there.
“Conor,” I said.
“What!?” snapped my brother in a tone he had never before used to me.
“This is my decision,” I said quietly. “I will be quite safe. I will not go far; just beyond the door.”
And I walked out, eyes straight ahead. Nobody tried to stop me. Outside the room, two men still stood on guard. The door closed behind me.
“You can go,” said Red to the guards. Ben had remained within; a gesture requiring some courage, under the circumstances.
We were alone. I stayed where I was, by the door. He was quite close, leaning back against the wall. Looking up into his eyes took all my strength. They were wintry cold, his face blank as an empty sheet of parchment.
“It seems I have fulfilled my purpose,” he said. “Clearly, you have no further need of my protection.”
“It’s better this way.” I forced the words out. “Better for you, and for your household. Better for everyone.” And I thought, if the doom the Fair Folk laid on you is not yet lifted, wait only until I leave these shores. The boat will carry me beyond the ninth wave, and you will begin to forget.
“I told you once,” said Red, “that I wanted to hear your voice. I did not think the first words I would hear would be these.”
It’s true, I thought. We have become adept at hurting each other. In a whole year, after everything, is this all we have learned?
“Those were not the first words,” I whispered, fighting tears. I would not weep.
“No,” he agreed. “They were not. You saved me; and I you. Perhaps that was what it was for. Perhaps that was the reason. And now that it’s over, you wish to return home.” Red’s tone was courteous. He might have spoken thus to any departing guest. “I will see to your safety as far as the coast. I have no doubt your brothers will guard you well for the journey home.”
I swallowed. The light was dim; one lamp burned low in a niche, casting deep shadows. But outside, it was nearly dawn. There was so much to say; and nothing I could say.
“I said that I would tell you about your brother,” I ventured. “About Simon.”
“Oh, yes. Our agreement. Safe conduct home, in return for information. I had almost forgotten.” He made an attempt at nonchalance, but I could see how his hand was shaking as he reached up to adjust the bandage.