Page 113 of The Violet Raven
Casey lowers his voice. “Triona… I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m… we’re all just as confused as you,” I say, gesturing toward Finn and Callan. “This hasn’t been easy to process.”
They nod in unison, their earlier skepticism replaced by a quiet understanding.
Bran exhales, running a hand through his hair, the humour that usually dances in his eyes tempered by a flicker of something softer. “Banshees… it’s… bloody wild, and eerie as the grave. A spirit woman smiting deceptive cunts in the woods.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, but before I can respond, Bran speaks again.
“So… just to be clear, she’s on our side, right? No sudden appearances to scare us while we’re taking a leak in the woods?”
Casey snorts. “Bran, I swear—”
“Are you afraid she’ll try to steal yer cock?” Finn deadpans.
“What? No!” Bran balks. “I’ve a strong bladder, but I’m not made of steel. One jump scare and I’ll be down a pair of trousers. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t fancy pissing myself.”
The tension breaks, a ripple of quiet laughter passing between us. Even Callan smirks, though he quickly hides it behind a scowl.
Bran’s grin widens as he leans back against a tree. “That’s all I needed to hear. Banshees, welcome. Just… give a bit of warning so I don’t greet you with my arse out.”
The laughter that follows is sharp and strange—but welcome.
Callan rolls his eyes but mutters, “Bloody eejit,” under his breath.
Casey shakes his head, his voice a touch more serious as the moment settles. “Truth be told, we should’ve believed him straight off. I’ve been this lad’s brother for twenty years, and I can tell ye—Callan doesnae know how to tell a joke, let alone make one up.”
That draws a few more quiet chuckles, even from Callan himself. For a fleeting moment, it feels like we might be okay.
Callan exhales, rolling his shoulders, blade back in hand. His voice, when it comes, is softer.
“Deidre told me. Long ago. When I was just a lad.” He stares down at the blade like it holds the memory.
I swallow, something uneasy curling into my stomach. “How would Deidre even know that?”
“Deidre has been a presence in our parents’ lives since before we were born. I can only assume… she must’ve kent the truth of it all’.”
The truth of everything.
Had she known what was coming?
Had she known my parents’ fate long before it unfolded—watched it, carried it in silence, never speaking a word?
“I’m startin’ to truly believe what Da meant… what he said before we left. That the world we’re steppin’ into—it’s not the one we knew. Not anymore.”
No one speaks, but I feel the quiet acceptance of the truth—that the world has changed.
And somehow, I know—we are only just beginning to grasp its depths.
21
Faith and Folly
Triona
Saturday, 10 May 1823
Port Oban: The Day of Departure
