The thought of sinking into hot water to chase away the last of the Carlin’s lingering frost in my bones was almost too tempting. Blood had dried and caked all over my left side, pulling at my skin and making my leather trousers stiff. My stomach and chest were streaked with dirt and grass stains from thudding onto my belly after I tripped over my own severed arm.
The moment I took a step forward, I listed wildly to the side, almost falling straight back down until Nua grabbed my waist to keep me upright. I flinched away out of instinct and lost my balance again, my heart giving a mighty thud as I swayed into the wall.
“Please let me help you,” Nua begged, and I gritted my teeth as my face flooded with heat and my eyes burned.
I was still fucking helpless. Weak, with no control, with nothing to my name, and now I couldn’t even fucking walk properly because my arm was gone. I didn’t want Nua to help me or touch me. I didn’t wantanyoneto help me or touch me. But as I tried to plant my feet firmly on the floor and stand upright, I found myself swaying yet again, listing to one side because the right side of my body was now heavier than the left.
“Just… hold on to my shoulder,” I gritted out to Nua, tensing up when his long fingers gently gripped my left shoulder.
My vision swam when I took a step forward, but Nua pressed down on my left side to keep me upright and mostly stable. I still felt dazed, not really with it, as we followed Gillie through the archway and into a small, warm kitchen with a big butcher’s block in the centre. The fire was lit in here and a heavy cauldron sat over it.
A wall of shelves and cubbies had been built directly into the earth wall on one side, thick beams of wood slicing across it. An apothecary cabinet sat beside a rectangular table with four chairs, little labels affixed to the front of each tiny drawer.
Pots and pans hung from a thick beam in the ceiling, and a metal bucket with a wooden scrubbing board for clothes sat tucked into a corner. To the left of the big hearth was another doorway, and I followed Gillie on wobbly legs through it to see two lopsided wooden doors in a tiny corridor. I had to press my trembling hand to the wall to stop myself from falling over now that Nua was no longer keeping me stable.
Gillie opened the door on the left with a flourish, revealing a small space lit by another tiny fire, with a latrine tucked into the corner and a big copper tub in the centre.
I stared at the tub, suddenly yearning for my cottage. I’d been alone there, but I remembered being happy at times. I remembered smiling and laughing—at what, I didn’t know—which made me flush with embarrassment. Had I been losing my mind in there? Laughing at nothing, all alone?
“I’ll bring the water in,” Gillie said, snapping me out of the memories as he slipped past me.
He reappeared moments later, effortlessly carrying the big cauldron I’d seen over the kitchen fire, his hands wrapped in cloth. He poured steaming water into the tub until it was filled halfway.
“Soap and oil over there,” he said with a smile and a nod towards a tiny sideboard littered with bowls and jars and bottles, just like every other surface in this weird dirt house. “Let me bring you some clothes before you get in, though. Then we’ll leave you to it.”
He disappeared again, and I didn’t move in the entire time he was gone except to absently clutch at my left bicep, above my throbbing stump.
“Here we go.” Gillie’s voice was overly cheerful as he carried in an armful of clothes and placed them on a rickety wooden chair beside the fire.
After setting a pair of brown boots on the floor beside it, he straightened up and looked at me uncertainly.
“Do you… Do you want Nua to come and help with the lacing on your trousers?” He gestured down. “It’ll take a while for you to get used to—”
“No,” I barked, my face heating. “I can do it.”
He just sighed and nodded, turning to leave and shutting the door behind him. It didn’t sit straight in its rough wooden frame, and I darted forward to fumble with the little loop of rope that hooked round a wooden stopper nailed into the frame. I was sure they could smash the door down if they wanted to, but it made me feel a little better.
I looked down at the lacing on my trousers, despair filling me before I forced it back. I refused to be bested by a pair of fucking trousers. I could do this.
It didn’t take me long to undo the lacing, but I was hot all over by the time I managed to get the trousers off and over my feet, nearly tripping and falling several times. Helpless fury filled me. What had they done with my arm? Had Balor taken it to the palace to give to the Carlin? Was she going to fuckingeatit?
Why was everything so fucking difficult with only one arm? Surely I hadn’t needed to steady myself with both getting into the tub in the cottage. I wobbled madly as I stepped into the hot water, thumping down gracelessly with a splash. Then I gritted my teeth hard when I realised I hadn’t grabbed any soap or oil from the sideboard. I struggled back up and out, snatching up the first bar of soap I saw and marching back to the tub. At least the floors weren’t dirt. They were dark, warped wooden boards that were smooth and warm under my feet.
I refused to let myself cry as I sat there struggling to wash my hair with one hand. Crying wouldn’t bring my arm back. Crying wouldn’t bring my dead parents back.
I was going to kill the Carlin. And her three sons. I didn’t know how yet, but I was going to. It was the only thing I cared about.