Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(93)

“And so we are,” Connor agreed. “If you’ve found a way to connect us again with Sorcha’s three, I’d like to hear it, for I feel, and all through me feel, they must be a part of it. They must be there.”

“And I believe they will, as the shadows of them came on Samhain. To bring them full, it may be another thing. Three and three and three,” Branna repeated. “But there are two armed with only courage and sword or fist. They have no magicks. Sorcha’s three, we three, and Fin—part of us, part of Cabhan. Then Boyle and Meara. It doesn’t truly balance.”

“You said we wouldn’t leave them out,” Iona began.

“And I gave my word I’d never lock her or Boyle away, whatever my wish to protect them.” Connor ignored the biscuits, frowned at his sister. “If you think to appeal to others of our blood, to our father or—”

“No. We are a circle, and nothing changes that. We go, three by three by three, as is meant. But that balance can be met, if we’re willing. And in turn if Boyle and Meara are willing.”

“You’d give them power.” Fin sat back as he began to understand. “You would give them, as Sorcha did her children, what we have.”

“I would—not near to all as she did, never that. We need what we are, and I would never burden two we loved with so much. But some, from all of us, to them. It can be done. I’ve studied how Sorcha did it, I’ve worked on how to pass—gently as we can—some of what we are. It’s a risk if I’ve got any of it wrong, and it must be a choice for all.”

“Sorcha’s children already had power, through her,” Iona pointed out, “through the blood. I’m newer at this than all of you, but I’ve never heard of transferring magicks into, well, let’s say laypeople.”

“They’re connected. Not just to us, but also through their bloodline. With or without power, that connection is real. And it’s that connection that would allow this to work, if it’s meant to work.”

“They’d have more protection,” Connor considered.

“They would, though as much as I love them, my purpose here is balance. It’s the fulfillment of what prophecy came through me. But it must be our purpose. Ours and theirs. And we can’t know, not for certain, what the powers would be for them.”

“But in having them,” Fin began, “they, with me, become truly another three.”

As that was exactly her thought, Branna let out a pent-up breath. “Yes, another three. I’ve come to believe that. Now each of you must think it through, and decide if you’re willing to give them what is both gift and burden. I can show you how it can be done, how I believe it can be done, without draining any of us, or giving them more than they can hold. If any of us aren’t sure, aren’t willing, then we set it aside. If we are, but they aren’t, again it’s set aside. A gift like this must be given freely and with a full heart, and taken the same.”

“Should any come from me? If there’s willing on all sides,” Fin continued, “should any come from me, as what I have is tainted?”

“I don’t like hearing you say that,” Iona replied.

“This is too large a step not to speak plain truth, deirfiúr bheag.”

“I’ll speak plain truth when I say I asked myself the same while I worked this through my head.” After scanning the table, Branna looked directly at Fin. “Even before we learned you come from Daithi, I had come to believe—again with a full heart—that yes, also from you. They’re yours,” Branna told him, “as they’re ours. And you are of the three. What you have in you isn’t pure, but that—to my mind—makes the light in it all the stronger.”

“I’ll agree to it, if they do. They must be sure they can accept what comes from me.”

“You need to take time to think it through,” Branna said, and Connor snorted, grabbed a biscuit.

“And didn’t I tell you this one thinks too much? Haven’t you taxed your brain on this enough for all of us?” he asked Branna. “Fiddled and figured all the little steps, the ways and means, the pros and cons and the good Christ knows what else? If they’ll take it, it’s theirs.” He looked to Iona.

“Absolutely. I’m not sure how Boyle will react to the idea. He accepts all this—we all know. And he’ll fight and stand with us. But at the core . . .”

“He’s a man with feet planted firm on the ground,” Fin said. “That’s true enough. We can only ask, as Branna’s asked, and leave the rest to him, and to Meara.”

“Well, I can see I wasted time making copious notes for the three of you.”

Connor grinned at his sister. “Too much thinking,” he said, and ate the biscuit.

“When do we ask?” Iona wondered.

“Sooner’s better than later,” Fin decided. “When the day’s work’s done?”

“Then I’m cooking for six.” Branna shoved at her hair.

“Happens I’ve the fat chicken you put on the list for me,” Fin told her. “And the makings for colcannon.”

“As well. Dinner at Fin’s then. I’ll go over and start on that, but I think it best and fair we tell them what we’re thinking before a meal. They’ll need time to . . . digest it all, we’ll say.”