Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(108)

“You’re bloody calm about it,” Connor muttered.

“I know. It’s odd. Why worry when it’s meant, right? And still I should be jumping out of my skin, but I just feel . . . right. Maybe I’m saving the jumping for when it’s done. Then I’ll probably babble like an idiot until you want to knock me unconscious. But right now, I’m ready.”

“If you’re so ready, tell me all the steps, from the beginning,” Branna ordered.

“All right. We gather here, an hour before moonrise.”

Iona walked her way through it as she spoke, envisioned it, every step, every motion, every word.

“And when Cabhan is ash,” she concluded, “we perform the final ritual and consecrate the ground. Then comes the happy dance and drinks on the house.”

Gauging her cousin’s expression, Iona reached for Branna’s hand. “I’m taking it very seriously. I know what I have to do. I’m focused. I trust you, all of you. Now you have to trust me.”

“I’d wish for more time, that’s all.”

“Time’s up.” To demonstrate, Iona rose. “I want to change, and get everything I need from my room. I’ll be ready.”

When she walked away, Connor rose as well. “I’d take some of her calm just now, but I’ll have to make do with too much energy. I’m going to check on the hawks, yours and mine, Fin, and the horses as well.”

As the door closed behind him, Branna got up to put the kettle back on. Though she doubted a vat of tea would drown the anxiety.

“You think we’re asking too much of her?” Fin asked.

“I can’t know, and that’s the worry.” One that ate at her, night and day. “If I try to see, and he catches even a glimmer, all could be lost. So I don’t look. I don’t like putting the beginnings of it all in her hands, even knowing it’s the right choice.”

“She asked for trust. We’ll give her that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much for her?”

“I can’t know,” he said in an echo of her words, “and that’s the worry.”

She busied herself making tea for both of them. “You care for her a great deal.”

“I do, yes. For herself, as she’s charming and full of light, and such . . . clarity of heart. And again, as my friend loves her, even if he buggered it up.”

“He did that. And still she went to him last night.”

“She forgives, easier than others.” Fin rose to walk toward her, to stand near her. “There are things for us, Branna. Words to be said. Will you forgive me, at last, when this is done?”

“I can’t think about that now. I’m doing what I have to do. Do you think it’s easy for me, being with you, working beside you, seeing you day after day?”

“It could be. All those things used to make you happy.”

“We used to be children.”

“What we had, what we’ve been to each other wasn’t childish.”

“You ask for too much.” Made her remember, far too clearly, the simple joy of love. “Ask for more than I can give.”

“I won’t ask. I’m done with asking. You don’t reach for happiness, or even look for it.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“What then?”

“Fulfillment. I think fulfillment contents me.”

“You wanted more than contentment once. You ran toward happiness.”

She had, she knew. Recklessly. “And the wanting, the running hurt me more than I can bear, even now. Put it away, Finbar, for it only brings more hurt to both of us. We’ve important work to do tonight. There’s nothing else but that.”

“You’ll never be all you are if you believe that. And it’s a sorrow to me.”

He walked away, walked out. And that, Branna told herself, was what she needed.

He was wrong, she told herself. She’d never be all she was, never really be free, as long as she loved him.

And that was her sorrow.


*


AT AN HOUR BEFORE MOONRISE THEY GATHERED. Branna lit the ritual candles, tossed ground crystals into the fire so its smoke rose pale and pure blue.

She took up a silver cup that had come down to her, stepped into the circle they formed.

“This we drink, one cup for six, from hand to hand and mouth to mouth to fix with wine our unity. Six hearts, six minds as one tonight as we prepare to wage this fight. Sip one, sip all, and show each one here answers the call.”

The cup passed hand to hand three times before Branna placed it in the center of the circle.

“Power of light, strong and bright, bless us this night, shield us from sight.”

Light erupted in the cup, burned like white flame.

“Now his eyes be blind until this magick I unwind. Not heart nor mind nor form will he see. As we will, so mote it be.”

She lowered the arms she’d lifted. “While it burns we’re the shadows. Only you, Iona, when you break this vial. Wait,” she added as she pressed it into Iona’s hand. “Wait until you’re on Sorcha’s ground.”

“I will. Don’t worry.” She slid the vial into her pocket. “Find him,” she said to Fin.

“So I will. Find, seek, lure.”