“I took it off, Branna.” Her fingers rubbed at her throat, where the necklace should be. “I wasn’t thinking, I swear. I was just caught up in the temper. So I took off the necklace he gave me and pushed it into my pocket.”
The hand stroking to soothe stilled. “The blue chalcedony with the jade and jasper beads?” Branna said carefully.
“Yes, yes. I just shoved it into my pocket, along with the charms. And I was picking fights with everyone within arm’s reach until Boyle had enough of me. He sent me out to the compost, and as it’s filthy work, and it was raining buckets, I switched my jacket for a barn coat. I didn’t think—didn’t even remember I’d taken the necklace off, you see. I wouldn’t have gone out without it. I swear, even in a mad, I wouldn’t have done that purposely.”
“You took off what he gave you out of love, what he gave you to protect you, what he loves, from harm. You cut through his heart, Meara.”
“Oh, Branna, please.” She sobbed in air as Branna rose, walked to the window to stare out at the dark. “Please don’t turn me away.”
Branna spun back, her own temper bright in her eyes. “That’s a cold and cruel thing to say.”
All the color dropped out of Meara’s cheeks again. “No. No. I—”
“Cold and cruel and selfish. You’ve been my friend, my sister in all but blood since my first memory. But you could think I’d turn you away?”
“No. I don’t know. I’m so confused, so twisted up inside.”
“The tears are good for you.” Voice brisk now, Branna nodded. “You don’t shed them often, and they’re good for you now. A kind of purging. There are five people in this house—no, that’s not true as Iona and Boyle have gone off now that you’re awake to pack up your things for you.”
“Pack up my—”
“Quiet. I’ve not finished. Those five people love you, and not one of us deserves you’re thinking we would stop because you’ve done something hurtful.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. But I’m here, Meara, standing between you and Connor, loving you both. He blamed himself, you see, for not giving you stronger protection.”
“I know.” Her voice hitched and shook on every word. “He said. I remembered. I told him. He left me.”
“He left the room, Meara, you idjit. He’s Connor O’Dwyer, as good and loyal and true a man as there ever was. He’s not your bleeding father or a man anything like him.”
“I don’t mean . . .” It flooded back, the force and clarity of it leaving her gasping for air.
“Calm. Be calm.” Branna rushed to her, gripped her hands, pushed her will against the panic. “You will be calm, and breathe easy. In my eyes, look in my eyes. There’s calm, and there’s air.”
“I remember.”
“Calm first. No harm comes here, and no dark. We scried the candles, laid the herbs and stones. Here is sanctuary. Here is calm.”
“I remember,” she said again, and calmly. “He was there.”
“You’ll let yourself settle a bit, and as much as I want to know it all, we’ll wait until we’re all together. You’ll only have to tell it once.”
And Connor, Branna thought, deserved to hear it all.
“What did he do to me? Can you tell me that? How bad was it?”
“Drink the broth first.”
Impatient, and stronger already, Meara just lifted the bowl, drank it down straight. And made Branna laugh a little.
“Now you’ve done it.”
“Tell me— Oh!”
It was like a jolt of electricity, or a good, quick orgasm, or a direct hit by a lightning bolt. Energy shot straight into her, rocking her back.
“What is that?”