Daughter Of The Forest by Juliet Marillier

anything was better than the blank-eyed despair with which he waited for the endless day to pass, the ashen-faced terror of his night waking.
    Then Finbar came. His pony had walked the last part of the dirt track; he left her some distance away and came on by foot. From habit, he moved in total silence, so his appearance was quite sudden, there on the edge of the grove. And Simon was up in a flash, his swift rasping intake of breath the only indicator of what this movement cost him, and then I felt my hair gripped from behind and cold metal at my neck.
    “Move one step further and I’ll slit her throat,” he said, and Finbar stopped dead, white-faced. There was no sound save for the single note of a distant bird calling to a rival; and Simon’s labored breathing somewhere behind me. Finbar stretched out his hands very slowly, showing them relaxed and empty; and then he lowered himself to the ground, back straight as a young tree, eyes watchful. His freckles stood out against his pallor and his mouth was a thin line. I could hear Father Brien humming to himself within the cottage. The knife eased away from my throat, slightly.
    “This is your brother?”
    “One of them,” I managed, my voice coming out in a sort of squeak. Simon loosened his grip a little. “Finbar saved you. He brought you here.”
    “Why?” The voice was flat.
    “I believe in freedom,” said Finbar with admirable steadiness. “I’ve tried to right wrongs where I can. You are not the first I have helped in such a way, though what became of them afterward I do not know. Will you let my sister go?”
    “Why should I believe you? Who in his right mind would send a little girl into his enemy’s arms, alone except for a doddering cleric? Who would turn traitor to his own family? What sort of man does that? Maybe you have a troop of warriors, there in the trees, ready to take me and finish what they started.” Simon’s voice was under control, but I could feel the tension in his body, and knew staying upright and holding me must be agony for him. He would not last much longer. I spoke to Finbar directly, without words, mind straight to mind.
    Leave this to me. Trust me .
    Finbar blinked at me, relaxing his guard for a moment. I read in his thoughts an anger and confusion that I had not seen in him before.
    It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s him .
    I have never been prone to the weaker characteristics of a woman; in fact, despite my small size and apparent delicacy I am a strong person and able to endure much. I should never have thought myself capable of such a deception, and I risked much in my guess at Simon’s probable reaction. But at the time, it was the only thing I could think of. So I gave a slight moan, and buckled at the knees, and it was to Simon’s credit that he dropped the knife and managed to catch me before I hit the ground. I kept my eyes firmly shut, listening to Finbar making noises of brotherly concern, and Simon regaining his weapon and warning my brother away. Then Father Brien’s voice—alerted by the noise, he was at my side quickly and wiping my face with a damp cloth that smelled of lavender. Opening my eyes cautiously, I met a very wry expression on the good father’s face. He didn’t miss much.
    I turned my head one way. Finbar sat exactly as before, cross-legged, bolt upright, his expression well schooled. I turned my head the other way. Simon was very close, his back against a large stone, the knife held loosely between his hands. I felt he had been watching me, but now his eyes were turned away, toward the trees. I did not like the look of his skin, which was showing that sweaty pallor that I’d hoped was gone for good.
    All four of us were apparently at a loss as to where to go next. The problem was solved unexpectedly by the wolfhound, Linn, who had tired of her rabbit hunt, and now hurtled toward us out of the forest, ecstatic to see so many friends at once. First she leapt on Finbar, planting her feet