Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(70)

She lifted a ladle, poured a pale gold cream from bowl to bottle through a funnel, and touched the air with the scent of honey and almonds.

“There’s a fine-looking Italian come over to work at his uncle’s restaurant in Galway City. Our Kayleen met him a few weeks ago at a party, and they’ve been seeing each other a bit. I met him myself when they came into the shop, and he’s charming as a prince and twice as handsome.” She continued to work as she spoke, filling her bottles, then wiping them clean before sealing them with the stoppers.

“Kayleen’s mad in lust for him, and who could blame her for it? I’d have a go at him myself if I was in the market. Others feel the same, and it appears he’s fine with that situation. And who could blame him?” she added, tying a thin gold ribbon around the bottle’s neck.

“But Kayleen doesn’t want to share, and feels the handsome Italian only requires a bit of a boost to pledge to her alone. She had in mind I’d give her the boost.”

“I’m not following.”

Branna set the finished bottle in a box for transporting. “A love spell was her request, and she was willing to pay a hundred hard-earned for it.”

“A love spell? Can you do that?”

“Can and will are different matters entirely. There are ways, of course. There are always ways, and there’s nothing more dangerous or filled with pain and regret as spells that involve the heart.”

“You told her no. Because it’s taking someone’s choice away. And because you’re not supposed to use magick for gain.”

Hands quick and clever, Branna tied the next ribbon. “Every spell’s for gain, one way or the other. You want something or believe in something, want to protect or block or vanquish. This cream here, it’ll make the skin smooth and fragrant, and it can lift the ego of the one wearing it, as well as draw a response from the one catching its scent. I create it, someone buys it, and I’m paid. That’s gain as well.”

“I guess that’s a way to think about it.”

“It is. As for choice, there are times we do that as well, however well-intentioned. And so we have to be willing to pay the price, for magick’s not free.” She looked up then, met Iona’s eyes with her smoky ones. “Not for us, not for any.”

“Then why did you say no?”

“Emotions are magick of their own, aren’t they? Love and hate the strongest and most powerful. It’s my philosophy that you don’t tamper with feelings, don’t push them in one direction or the other, not with power. The risk is great. What if the love is already there, about to bloom? You push it along, maybe it opens to obsession. Or the one who paid for the spell has a change of mind or heart. Or there’s another who loves and would be loved and is now shunted aside by magickal means. So many ors and ifs there. I don’t play with love spells or their kin. You’ll make up your own mind where you stand on it, but it’s, to me, an unethical and risky line to cross.”

“Unethical, yes. And even more it just wouldn’t be fair.” For Iona, that was even more important. “And yeah, I get what you’re saying. A lot of magick isn’t fair. But love should be, I don’t know, sacred. People have to be able to love who they love.”

“And not love when they don’t. So I said no, and always will.”

“What did you sell her instead?”

“Truth. She’ll decide if she makes use of it. If she does, they’ll both be able to say what they feel, and want and expect. If not, she can go along enjoying what is for as long as it lasts. I think she won’t use it. She has a fear of magick, and she’s not ready for truth.”

“If she loved him, she’d want the truth.”

Branna smiled, slipped the next bottle into the box. “Ah, and there you have it. She’s a bit besotted and wildly in lust, but not anywhere near the borders of love. She only wishes to be. Love doesn’t break under the truth, even when you want it to.”

The door opened. Kathel trotted in, and Fin followed.

“Ladies.” He pushed back his wind-tossed hair. “I heard we had a bit of trouble. You’re all right, darling?” he said to Iona.

“Yes. Fine.”

“I’m glad of it. And still, I’d like the details of it all, and what’s being planned in the certainty there’ll be another attack.”

“Boyle didn’t come with you?”

“He’s dealing with the farrier, and Connor’s out on a hawk walk, so it’s left to the two of you to deal with me on this.”

“Boyle was there as well.” Branna carried the box to a shelf in the back. “He’ll have as many details as Iona.”

“He sees it from his eyes. I want hers.”

“We’ve work, Fin. She needs more knowledge, more practice.”

“Then I’ll help you with it.” As if it was already accepted, he shrugged out of his coat.

“We have different . . . techniques, you and I.”

“So we do, and Iona would only benefit from seeing, and trying the differences.”

“This habit of talking about me in the third person when I’m right here is getting really old,” Iona decided.

“And rude,” Fin said with a nod. “You’re right. I’d like to help, and once we’re done with the work, I’d very much like if you’d tell me exactly what happened, and how you left it—from your eyes, Iona. If you will.”