Circenn rolled his eyes, and Adam, caught up in adoring himself, ignored it.
“I can teach you to sift time, but a fuller understanding of your abilities will not come for many years. Are you certain you wish to proceed? I will not have you later cry foul and be angry with me again. Five hundred years of your bad temper is all I can stand.”
“I am certain. Teach me.”
“Come.” Adam extended his hand. “Let us begin and regain your mate. Welcome to my world, son.”
* * *
Circenn’s instruction at Adam’s hands commenced the next morning, and the laird of Brodie began slowly to understand what he’d always sensed within him, and feared: the potential for unlimited power. He began to see why it had frightened him, he—a warrior who feared nothing. Such power was terrifying because the ability to use it carried immense responsibilities. What had once seemed a vast unexplored wilderness—his country, Scotland—was now put into astonishing perspective.
There were other worlds, far beyond the one they inhabited. He realized why the Tuatha de Danaan seemed detached to mortals. The tiny bit of land called Scotland and their tiny war for independence was one of millions in the universe.
Over the next few days of learning just a tiny bit about himself, he began to develop (loath though he was to admit it) some respect for the man who had sired him. Adam was indeed given to strange amusements, prone to meddle and to be prankish. However, considering the extent of what his “blackest elf” could actually do, Circenn realized that Adam generally exercised admirable restraint. He also began to realize how mortals, who had no such magic, could so gravely misunderstand those who wielded it.
He eyed his father, who was bent over an ancient tome from which he’d been reading aloud, giving Circenn more background on his race. It was difficult to conceive of the exotic man as his father, for Adam wore his customary glamour that made him seem even younger than Circenn.
“Adam, what of this bond I have with her? What happened that night when she and I …”
“Made love? Ah, tupped as Duncan would say.” Adam raised his head from the book. “What did Morganna tell you when you were a lad?”
“About what? She told me many things.” Circenn shrugged.
“What did she tell you about spilling your seed in a woman?” Adam asked, trying not to laugh.
“Oh, that. She told me it would fall off,” Circenn muttered darkly.
Adam tossed back his head, shaking with mirth. “That is exactly something Morganna would have said. She knew better than to reason with the stubborn boy you were. And did you ever spill in a woman?”
“Nay. At first I believed her and feared it would indeed fall off. Then, when I was old enough to realize she’d been jesting with me, I didn’t because I didn’t wish to scatter my bastards across the land. Finally, when I wed Naya and was ready to have a family, I discovered what you had done—”
“I told you the same day, didn’t I? I knew you would plan children.”
“You told me to prevent me?” Circenn said, startled.
“Of course. I knew what would happen if you did. You would have been bound to a woman you did not love, and that is the purest hell for us.”
“So spilling my seed in a woman links us?”
“It seems to be a side effect of our immortality. Our life force is so strong, so potent, that when we find our release inside a mortal woman the union that is forged connects us. And that link will soon include your child.”
“Lisa’s not pregnant,” Circenn said quickly.
Adam glanced at him mockingly. “Of course she is. You—half-fae and half-mortal—are much more virile than we are. You might be our hope for the future.”
“Lisa is carrying my child?” Circenn roared.
“Yes, from the moment you spent your seed, the first time you made love to her.”
Circenn was stuck silent.
“The first seven months are splendid. It’s amazing when the child’s force starts to mingle with yours and hers. You feel the babe’s awakening, its excitement, and burgeoning life. You marvel at what you have created, you hunger to see it arrive. Then the last two months become hellish. You, Circenn, were a pain in the ass. You wanted out, you kicked and brooded and argued, and suddenly I developed cravings for ridiculous foods I’d never wanted before, and ah—the birth, sweet Dagda! I suffered her labor. I felt the pain, and I felt the creation, the wonder. By the time you birth your first child, you and Lisa will be so deeply bound you won’t be able to imagine breathing without her.”