Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(56)

“Far from helpless,” Connor soothed. “But precious. And necessary. We need you, so a few precautions, at least for now, will ease our minds.”

“Precious. Necessary.” Fin turned, his face cool. “I agree with that. And yet you didn’t call me when the precious and necessary was threatened.”

“It was quick,” Connor told him. “And in truth I only thought to get to Iona, and to bring Branna as fast as we both could. So you’re right, the fault’s mine there.”

“Could you have done more?” Branna asked Fin.

“We can’t know, can we? But you have to decide, all of you, if I’m to be a part of this, or if you’ll hold me outside.”

Rather than answer, Branna changed angles. “Can you read him? Sense his thoughts?”

“I can’t, no. He’s blocked me out. He knows I’ve chosen my side. Sure he believes I can be turned still, and he’ll pull at me. In dreams, and in waking ones.”

“You don’t block him.”

Fin bit off a curse. “I’ve a life to live, don’t I? Other thoughts in my head. He’s got only the one purpose for his whole existence, and I’ve more than that. And if I block him altogether, if I could, there’s no chance then, is there, none at all that I might learn something that could help us end this. If you don’t believe I want that, to end it, to see even the thought of him destroyed, I’ve nothing left to convince you.”

“I don’t doubt that. I don’t.” Branna rose to go over, stir the soup. “She needs the horse. Iona needs her guide.”

Sheer frustration flicked over Fin’s face. “He’s been hers since the first I saw him. You’ve no place to keep Alastar here, so he’s with Boyle and me. If you don’t trust that, I’ll sign his papers over to her tomorrow.”

“No!” Appalled, Iona pushed to her feet. “That’s not right.”

“Nor is it what I was saying or meaning. It’s you who have to tell her he’s hers. You and Boyle, as you brought him here, and you’re keeping him for her. I only meant that.”

“Even without any magick to it, the horse was hers the minute they set eyes on each other.” Boyle lifted his hands, let them fall. “And Fin’s the right of it. You’ve no place here to keep him as he needs to be. We spoke of it the very night Fin came home again.”

“I’m grateful to you, both.” Branna’s tone softened. “And I’m sorry, truly, if it seemed I wasn’t.”

“I’ve never wanted your gratitude or your apologies,” Fin told her.

“You have them, wanted or not, and can do what you please with them.” Setting the spoon aside, Branna came back to the table.

Iona, like Fin, remained standing.

“Thank you.”

“You’re entirely welcome,” Fin told her.

“And thank you,” she said to Boyle. “Since he’s mine, I’ll pay for his food and lodging. And that’s the end of it,” she said as Boyle opened his mouth in obvious protest. “I haven’t had much that was mine that mattered, but I take care of what belongs to me.”

“Fine then. We’ll work it out.”

“Good. I also know what it’s like to be held outside. There’s no colder place than right outside the warmth. None of you know what that’s like but me, and Fin. All of you have always been a part of something, even the center of it,” she added, looking at Branna. “So you don’t know what it is to feel you’re not wanted or accepted or understood. I think what’s between you and Fin, and what stands between you is personal. But there’s a lot more here to consider. You said I’m part of this, that this is family and it’s mine. So I want to say that Fin’s my family, too.”

On impulse she picked up the wine, and though he’d barely touched his, added a few drops to his glass. “You should come sit down,” she told him.

He murmured something in Irish before he came back, took his seat. And lifted his wine to drink.

“He said his heart and hand are yours,” Branna told her.

“Oh. Back at you, and that’s why we’ll win.”

“You’ve shamed me in my own house.”

“Oh, oh, Branna, I didn’t mean to—”

“And it’s good you did. I earned it, and it seems needed, the same sort of unfiltered thoughts and feelings you gave Boyle. We’re a circle or we’re not, and a circle with chinks in it is easily breached. So a circle we are, from here till it’s done.” She lifted her glass, held it toward Fin. After a moment, he tapped his to it.

“Sláinte.” Connor tapped his own to Fin’s, then his sister’s, then around the table. “Or better yet, may all the gods who ever were bless us, and help us send the bloody bastard to hell.”

“I’m good with that.” A little exhausted from the emotion, Iona sat again. Under the table Boyle took her hand in his. Surprised, she looked at him, met his quiet, steady gaze.

She all but felt something spill into her heart, something full of warmth and light, and hope.

“Well,” Meara said from across the table, “now that we’ve settled all that, what the hell do we do next?”