“You looked so frightened that night.” Hæra tightened her grip on Madeleine’s hand. “You didn’t look as if you thought I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The mud had been slick under Madeleine’s feet while rain soaked into her sweater. She’d been holding a kitchen knife as if to ward off the truth’s horror. Every inch of her skin had crawled in protest. “I wasn’t exactly thinking,” she said. Just reacting. She shivered. That had been the last time she’d seen Jonathan alive—and Hæra as an Each-uisge. The first was horrible. The second…

“You did hurt me. Just not like you were planning to.” She remembered something else the Great Mare had said, something about love, and how Madeleine had replied. She remembered food from the Sunrise Café. “I forgive you,” she said. “You’re sorry, and you tried to make amends. You offered yourself to your mother for my sake.”

Hæra looked away. Her dark hair hid her face. “The least I could do. She came after you because of me.”

“She came after me because she wanted to,” Madeleine said firmly. “And she was more interested in you, remember? The way Beathag behaves isn’t your fault.”

“She killed my father.” Hæra flopped back down onto the mattress with a groan, although she didn’t let go of Madeleine’s hand. “If I actually loved anyone in my family, it was him. She did to him what I’d thought to do to you.”

“Yes and no.” How strange, to speak of her own planned gruesome fate this reasonably. “You wanted to grow and change. To escape what life had in store for you. She wanted to destroy your father rather than lose him.”

Hæra blinked at her.

“Granted, you still shouldn’t have planned to kill anyone,” Madeleine conceded.

“Correct.” Hæra rubbed her thumb against the back of Madeleine’s hand. “I’ve learned that much of human morality already, haven’t I? But you’re eager to excuse me for something awful.”

“I am not excusing you,” Madeleine said flatly. “Forgiving you is different.”

“Ah. I see.” Hæra pressed her lips together. “You forgive me. That’s more than I deserve. Do you love me as well?”

The question landed between them with enough weight to crack a new fissure in the seabed. Madeleine searched for words. Well, one word. A simple one.

“I told you that you did,” Hæra said. “I should have asked you instead.”

Madeleine’s back and underarms began to sweat. Her heartbeat kicked into high gear. Even she couldn’t tell if it was hitched to anticipation or terror. “I …”