[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
Leinth stared at him for a long moment, the strength of his quietly spoken words sinking in slowly. Then, finally, she said, “You mean that.”
“You’re damn right I do.” Thom’s jaw tightened. “It may take a lifetime to make it happen, but that’s what I’m willing to spend if that’s what it takes.”
This time her hand made it all the way to his shoulder. She squeezed it gently. “I hadn’t seen it before, not truly,” she said in a whisper. “But I see it now. I see it now.”
“See what?”
“The Wanderer’s blood in you.” One corner of her mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Though now that I see it, I can’t believe I missed it before. You have his stubborn resolve.”
Thom exhaled softly and shook his head. “I suppose that’s a good thing.” He jerked his head to the side. “Go on. Seamus won’t say it, but he’d be better off seeing you before this all starts.”
Leinth squeezed his shoulder again and turned away, moving toward where Seamus stood a few dozen yards away, still talking to the knot of archers from the Wild Hunt. Thom closed his eyes, his hands curling slowly into fists.
He wanted Marin, but she was safer where she was, and he was needed where he was—was needed here to lead, to organize.
To be some kind of bloody symbol in a way. A giant walking target.
“She told you?”
He nodded in response to Sif’s question, opening his eyes but not turning toward the sound of her voice. “Leinth told me.”
“Your wife will put him to rights,” she said, clearly meaning it to be reassurance. Thom smiled weakly.
“Hopefully.”
“She will,” Sif said, then strode forward, headed for the wall. “I will fill her hole in the defenses,” she said as she started to climb up to Marin’s usual perch above and to the right of the gates. “Though I fear that I’m not quite the shot she is.”
Thom choked on a laugh. “I’m not sure anyone is,” he admitted. I don’t know how she does it or how much is Mar and how much is Brighíd. Probably more of the latter than any of us care to think about.
There were times he shivered to think about it—but then, he had his own issues with his own ancient soul. He tried to use the insights, the memories and the dreams, to his advantage but sometimes he had to wonder.
It didn’t matter in the end. Finn was a part of him. There was nothing he could do to change that.
“Sing out if you see something.”
“Of course,” Sif said, one corner curving in a momentary smirk. Thom wasn’t sure if it was because he was telling her something he didn’t need to or if it was for another reason.
Another thing that didn’t matter.
The drums were growing closer, louder.
“Thordin was coming after he got them to safety, right?”
“I assumed so,” Sif said, her gaze already turned to the view beyond the wall. “He’d best be. It won’t be long now.”
“No,” Thom said quietly. “No, it won’t be.”
Gods and monsters. Whatever powers that are out there, have mercy on us this time.
Please.
He began to climb the wall.
