She had a
good death. They don’t let you suffer.’
Seth said, ‘Nor do we.’
‘Seth. Please.’ I didn’t want to cry.
‘Sorry. Told you I was selfish.’ Reaching for my hand, he interlinked our fingers. ‘It gets better, Finn. At first you don’t think it will, you don’t even want it
to, but it does, like any wound. Then you know you’ve betrayed them, but it happens anyway. It might leave a dirty great scar but it scabs over, it heals. That’s how life works.
It’s the way it goes on.’
‘I’ve betrayed her just coming here.’ He was right: the guilt was a racking thing, all the more so because it had never crossed my mind to respect Stella’s wishes. I had
waited only for my mother’s death before doing what Stella had so desperately wanted me not to do.
Seth was watching me, I could feel it, but he sounded surprisingly kind. ‘You’ve no obligation to the dead, Finn. Our lives would never be our own.’
‘Speaking of which. Eili’s wound? Has that healed?’
Seth was silent for a long moment. ‘Eili’s grief is all poisoned with rage. That’s my fault. That doesn’t heal so well.’ He shut his eyes, smiling.
‘She’ll kill me, of course.’
‘She’ll have to get through me,’ I said.
He raised his eyebrows, amused. ‘Who’d have thought it?’ Tightening his fingers around my hand, he lifted it to study the puckered white weals on my palm. ‘She’d
have mended that properly, if you’d asked.’
‘I didn’t want her to. It doesn’t hurt. Does yours?’
‘Sometimes. If Eili’s in a very bad mood.’ His laugh was a little forced.
‘It hurts all the time, doesn’t it?’ I frowned, suspicion scratching at my gut.
‘Well. Why did you keep your scars?’
‘That’s different. I told you, they don’t hurt.’
‘You kept them to remind you. Eili keeps mine alive to remind me.’ He squeezed my fingers. ‘It’s because of you and Jed it’s only the crossbow scars. I get sick
when I think how it would be if she’d had access to the… to…’
He still found it hard to say it, I realised. ‘The whipping scars,’ I finished for him.
‘They healed by themselves. You did right to keep the healers away. Especially
her.’
He tried to release me, but I tightened my fingers on his. I was not going to let him
withdraw and shrink into himself in that maddening way of his.
‘You never explained that one,’ I said lightly, touching a deep crude scar on his palm.
‘Jings, Dorsal, this is like
Jaws
.’ He laughed, and I smiled, pleased I’d pulled him back from his dark place. ‘That’s nothing sinister.’ Mildly
embarrassed, he mumbled, ‘Blood brother cut.’
‘
Murlainn!
How teenage!’ I examined it, still not letting him pull away. It was no mere nick. It had once been a savage slash, and it ran from the lowest joint of his little
finger to the base of his thumb. ‘Were you after a complete blood transfusion?’ I flicked it disapprovingly with a fingertip. ‘I hope the other guy looks this bad.’
Seth grinned. ‘Oh, he does.’
‘So who? Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I never told you ’cause you wouldn’t believe it.’ He pulled me to my feet.
‘Okay, be mysterious.’ I nodded at the blue roan. ‘What kind of mood is he in?’
‘Doesn’t matter. You’re not riding him.’ Seth lifted the pack of hardware supplies and tied it onto the garron’s saddle, making it sag to the side and earning a
reproving glare from the pony.
‘You’re strapping me onto the pack horse or what?’
He jiggled his eyebrows. ‘Don’t put ideas in my head.’
‘Okay, pal, I’ll walk. And the whisky I brought you, I’ll drink it myself.’
‘Ha! Still a little madam. I wish your Uncle Conal could hear you. You’re not walking, Dorsal, and I’ll be deprived of the sight of you slung across a pack horse. I’ve
got something for you.’ He untied a fabric bundle from the garron’s saddle, then unrolled it with care, and when
good death. They don’t let you suffer.’
Seth said, ‘Nor do we.’
‘Seth. Please.’ I didn’t want to cry.
‘Sorry. Told you I was selfish.’ Reaching for my hand, he interlinked our fingers. ‘It gets better, Finn. At first you don’t think it will, you don’t even want it
to, but it does, like any wound. Then you know you’ve betrayed them, but it happens anyway. It might leave a dirty great scar but it scabs over, it heals. That’s how life works.
It’s the way it goes on.’
‘I’ve betrayed her just coming here.’ He was right: the guilt was a racking thing, all the more so because it had never crossed my mind to respect Stella’s wishes. I had
waited only for my mother’s death before doing what Stella had so desperately wanted me not to do.
Seth was watching me, I could feel it, but he sounded surprisingly kind. ‘You’ve no obligation to the dead, Finn. Our lives would never be our own.’
‘Speaking of which. Eili’s wound? Has that healed?’
Seth was silent for a long moment. ‘Eili’s grief is all poisoned with rage. That’s my fault. That doesn’t heal so well.’ He shut his eyes, smiling.
‘She’ll kill me, of course.’
‘She’ll have to get through me,’ I said.
He raised his eyebrows, amused. ‘Who’d have thought it?’ Tightening his fingers around my hand, he lifted it to study the puckered white weals on my palm. ‘She’d
have mended that properly, if you’d asked.’
‘I didn’t want her to. It doesn’t hurt. Does yours?’
‘Sometimes. If Eili’s in a very bad mood.’ His laugh was a little forced.
‘It hurts all the time, doesn’t it?’ I frowned, suspicion scratching at my gut.
‘Well. Why did you keep your scars?’
‘That’s different. I told you, they don’t hurt.’
‘You kept them to remind you. Eili keeps mine alive to remind me.’ He squeezed my fingers. ‘It’s because of you and Jed it’s only the crossbow scars. I get sick
when I think how it would be if she’d had access to the… to…’
He still found it hard to say it, I realised. ‘The whipping scars,’ I finished for him.
‘They healed by themselves. You did right to keep the healers away. Especially
her.’
He tried to release me, but I tightened my fingers on his. I was not going to let him
withdraw and shrink into himself in that maddening way of his.
‘You never explained that one,’ I said lightly, touching a deep crude scar on his palm.
‘Jings, Dorsal, this is like
Jaws
.’ He laughed, and I smiled, pleased I’d pulled him back from his dark place. ‘That’s nothing sinister.’ Mildly
embarrassed, he mumbled, ‘Blood brother cut.’
‘
Murlainn!
How teenage!’ I examined it, still not letting him pull away. It was no mere nick. It had once been a savage slash, and it ran from the lowest joint of his little
finger to the base of his thumb. ‘Were you after a complete blood transfusion?’ I flicked it disapprovingly with a fingertip. ‘I hope the other guy looks this bad.’
Seth grinned. ‘Oh, he does.’
‘So who? Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I never told you ’cause you wouldn’t believe it.’ He pulled me to my feet.
‘Okay, be mysterious.’ I nodded at the blue roan. ‘What kind of mood is he in?’
‘Doesn’t matter. You’re not riding him.’ Seth lifted the pack of hardware supplies and tied it onto the garron’s saddle, making it sag to the side and earning a
reproving glare from the pony.
‘You’re strapping me onto the pack horse or what?’
He jiggled his eyebrows. ‘Don’t put ideas in my head.’
‘Okay, pal, I’ll walk. And the whisky I brought you, I’ll drink it myself.’
‘Ha! Still a little madam. I wish your Uncle Conal could hear you. You’re not walking, Dorsal, and I’ll be deprived of the sight of you slung across a pack horse. I’ve
got something for you.’ He untied a fabric bundle from the garron’s saddle, then unrolled it with care, and when
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