Page 28 of The Guardian

“Ailith?” Erin asked gently, reaching to touch her arm. “What is the matter?”

Ailith didn’t answer at first. She swallowed hard, eyes misting. Then she lifted her head and looked at her sister, her voice hoarse from everything she hadn’t said.

“I should have listened to ye.”

Erin blinked, brows rising. “What do ye mean?”

Ailith let out a shaky breath, brushing wind-tangled hair back from her face. “Back then… when Brant came to me with his lies and his false concern. When he told me Hendry had betrayed me, that he he’d lain with women the entire time of our relationship and I believed him. I let the shock and grief blind me. And ye…ye told me to wait. To speak with Hendry when he returned. But I didn’t.”

Erin’s expression softened, her eyes already glistening. “Ailith…”

“I married Brant not out of love,” Ailith pressed on, her voice cracking. “But out of hurt. I wanted to erase Hendry. I wanted to prove that I didn’t need him. That I could move on. But I couldn’t. Not really.”

She let out a shaky breath, twisting the hem of her cloak in her hands.

“He came to my cottage yesterday. We spoke.” Her lips trembled.

Erin placed a hand on her arm, steadying her.

“He was furious, but it wasn’t his rage that cut me; it was his disappointment. His heartbreak. And it was justified. I believed the worst of him. Without ever giving him the benefit of a doubt.”

“Ye were hurting,” Erin said softly. “Ye loved each other fiercely. That kind of love, it can turn to fire if it’s wounded.”

Ailith nodded, eyes burning. “I see it in his face today. He’s changed. There was a hollowness in him I’d never seen before. And I wonder if I was the one who carved it into him.”

Erin’s grip on her arm tightened slightly. “What did he say?”

Ailith wiped at her cheek with the edge of her sleeve. “That I didn’t give him the chance to explain. That I believed a lie without fighting for him. And he’s right. That is what I did.”

A heavy silence settled between them, filled only by the quiet gurgles of the bairn, whose presence felt like a tether to something good.

“It is finally done,” Ailith whispered, voice breaking. “He will never trust me again. And rightly so.”

Erin took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “Ailith. Will ye fight for him?”

“I-I cannae, there is nothing left to be said. We can never recover from th-this,” Ailith stuttered. “It is best if I move forward and not look back.”

“The Ailith I ken does nae give up so easily,” Erin pressed on. “My strong sister is a survivor, a fighter. He is yer one and only Ailith, why will ye nae fight for him? Show him how ye truly feel.”

A realization hit her that she had to make things right. Had to show Hendry that she loved him more than anything in her life. Even if he never forgave her, she would seek him out and do her best to ensure he understood how sorry she was. Yes. She would fight for him. Fight so that joy returned to his eyes. So that he could continue on, to live life again without the burden of her betrayal.

She looked toward the path where Hendry had disappeared after the execution.

“I’ll fight for him this time. Even if he doesn’t want me to.”

That night, sleeping on the floor of her sister’s humble home, with Teller at her side, Ailith tried to formulate a plan. A way to do right by Hendry. But exhaustion from lack of sleep and the happenings of the day dragged her into a deep slumber.

Five days later

Despite the bitter wind that nipped at her cheeks and tugged at the hem of her cloak, the sun shone with unexpected brilliance. Its golden light spilling across the frost-kissed earth. Ailith stepped into the morning, a basket of feed in hand and a soft resolve settling deeper in her chest.

It was two days after the executions.

A day when death still lingered in the minds of the villagers, but for Ailith, it marked something else. A beginning.

Her path to healing had to start somewhere, and oddly enough, it began with the grumpy gray donkey now blinking at her from the gate.

The creature, stubborn and shaggy, had been her first investment since the storm that had torn her heart wide open. She’d used a portion of the coin Hendry had sent her, money she’d ignored out of pride, and purchased the donkey and a newly crafted cart from a local man, Erin’s husband had vouched for. It had felt strange, freeing even, to finally buy something without fear of having to sell it back.