I coughed and then nodded. “I thought it was a dream, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “What did you see?”

  “When the Syr marched to the riverlands, you were there. You and Aine.”

  Cailleach slowly nodded. “We were.”

  “You were at the rear of the column, the two of you.”

  The elf stiffened. “We were.”

  “The head of the column were Syr regulars, several hundred. Militia next, with six Harvesters marching beside them. Behind them, three mages on horseback. Probably those war mages Fiachra told me about.”

  When I’d began listing units, Cailleach had stilled. Checking down the list, her stillness only deepened. By the time I paused, she was motionless.

  “The tail of the column, two dozen House veterans. You two looked—younger isn’t quite the right word— you looked untroubled, I think.”

  Cailleach’s pupils widened just before she blinked and looked away. Her face fell to the floor and her voice was quiet when she asked, “Where?”

  “Just outside Annesport, there was a cart evacuating wounded soldiers that pulled off the road for the column. I watched from the near side of the cart.”

  Her eyes met mine for only a heartbeat before they lost focus. “Human, male, early twenties, bruises all over his face and neck, reeked of magic.”

  I sat back. “That’s the guy. Lady Badb smiled at him. That was Lady Badb leading you, right?”

  Cailleach made a single slow blink. “You saw the Lady and she smiled? At you?”

  I shrugged. “Not sure if it was at me or him, but she smiled.”

  “What did she look like?”

  I frowned. “Like an elf in a long cloak? Like you, maybe, but a little taller. Beautiful and completely ageless.”

  The elf sitting next to me suddenly relaxed and color came to her ears a moment later.

  “I assume she can look like many things, then,” I added.

  Cailleach nodded. “If she appeared to you as herself, then that can only be a blessing.”

  “What about the fog? There was this sound eating fog surrounding her.”

  Cailleach pursed her lips. “I suppose it would make sense for you to see the mists, considering the man on the cart was clearly a mage, but for you to remember any of it? Samuel, you must understand that the Lady shows her presence to remarkably few people, even amongst the House. Those capable of remembering her presence, much less her face, are notably rare.”

  A smile bloomed on her face, and she threw herself at me with zero warning. Crushed by the sudden embrace, I was still processing what was going on as she whispered into my ear. “I can’t speak for Aine, but when we marched that day, I felt no fear because I knew the Lady watched over us. That’s it. I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t know she led us herself. What an honor. Thank you, Sam.”

  She sat back with a guilty smile on her face and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “That was the last I felt her presence in person, Sam. I thought— I don’t know what I thought. What I saw that night, I—there’s no telling of it all, really. We were broken, all of us, and—” Her eyes grew distant before she looked away. “—then I had to kill them again, for the last time. After, there was nothing left for us, nothing but survival. I thought we’d been freed from our obligation.”

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  The growing pain in her voice spoke of more than despair. I sat up and when I laid my hand on her knee, she leaned into my shoulder. “Is this obligation that bad?”

  Cailleach drew a breath with a slight tremble. “It can be such a heavy burden at times, Sam, yet so light at others. Before we left, when Lady Rowan asked me if we could serve her as members of the House in addition to being Harvesters, I hesitated to answer.”

  I echoed the thought that came to me, what I’d find myself thinking if I were in her shoes. “Do you dare pick up that burden once more?”

  She slowly nodded. “Was it even mine to bear anymore? Was I still worthy when I’d already walked away?”

  “If you’d truly walked away, you wouldn’t be a Harvester, Cailleach.”

  After a quick sniffle, she wiped at her nose with the back of a wrist. “I suppose that’s why I agreed, but without Lady Badb’s guidance, I had reservations.” She glanced at me with reddened eyes. “If she’s made herself known again, then for the first time in decades, my doubts are gone. Some questions still remain, though. Sam, you have too many tasks before you already, but I must ask another of you.”

  I prompted her with a slow nod.

  Cailleach sat her bandaged hand in her lap and slowly unwound the cloth. While the outer windings were simple cloth, the last two were soaked in some clear gel, and the last bore streaks of blood.

  At first, the wound looked like a simple cut across the back of her hand, but within seconds of exposure it began to weep blood and clear fluid while the skin along the cut began to blacken and bubble. Hastily rebinding the wound, she glanced up. “As one of the Lady’s chosen, I’ve taken your sister’s burden in her place. She’ll recover, but until we address Lady Badb’s displeasure, this wound will remain.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “The riddle of the message’s delivery is our only hint. I suspect you’ll learn more in the riverlands, likely near where the cart stopped outside of what remains of Annesport. More than that, I cannot say. I may be her servant, but unless she speaks her mind I cannot read it.”

  Now thoroughly unsettled, I noticed a faint tension to her she hadn’t carried earlier. “Does that hurt?”

  “No more than I deserve. It is small penance for losing my faith.”

  I stared at the young woman sitting next to me. “You’re more a tool to be used, Cailleach.”

  Her eyes hardened. “If my people’s survival requires me to be a tool, I need not be more. I am as my Lady wills me to be.”

  Eyes narrowed, I turned to a safer subject. “What happened to Jenna?”

  “Our weapons are more than merely blades to be wielded. A true weapon of the House carries a blessing from our Lady, a small measure of her power that brings true finality to the blow. Were you to hand Fiachra or even his master that stave, they’d find no magic within. Somehow your sister found a way through the mist’s grasp. How, I don’t think I will ever understand, but she did, and when she did she laid bare eyes directly upon the power of the Lady. Is it little wonder gazing into the sun renders one blind?”

  I suppressed a shudder, managing to do little more than stare at her nonchalant shrug in horror.

  “I felt the release of magic from the gate. When I reached your room, you were both dead and the sword on the floor between you. I’m happy you were spared from witnessing Jenna’s wounds. Some things, family should not bear witness to. Bandaging her eyes was nearly useless as they bled through quite quickly. What little healing I know, ineffective. We summoned the expedition’s priest, and they fared no better. The Green’s priest arrived only minutes before you did and he wasn’t making any headway either. That’s in the past now. Her sight should recover given time.”

  Cailleach paused and absentmindedly touched the back of her bandaged hand. “As much as this makes me want to go with you now, I cannot. Duty demands I stay. If there is no resolution by your return, I’ll go myself if possible. I’ll beg Lady Rowan to give me leave to do so if I have to.”

  “And if she says no?”

  Cailleach sighed. “While I carry duty to Lady Rowan and the Glade, I have always served a higher power. If I must choose between betrayals, then the choice is simple.”

  Given the finality in her words, I had little doubt which she’d choose. “When I met Quinn and Eidhneán, they introduced Aoibheann as the last patron of the Syr, as the Syr Goddess of life and death, amongst other titles. If Lady Badb is a goddess, then she’s not a patron unless Aoibheann lied to me. Also, Lady Badb’s power seems to be pretty focused on death. Isn’t that Aoibheann’s back yard? Who and what is Lady Badb?”

  Cailleach eyed the doorway for a heartbeat before turning back to me. “You are correct. Lady Badb is no Patron. Aoibheann’s realm may be life and death, but Lady Badb’s connects them. She is the Syr’s first and last protector, the White Reaper, the Lady of Winter, where all things meet their end.”