“I helped, sure.” He looked across to a field where people trained with sword and fist and bow. And remembered the blood and the bodies strewn over it.
He’d never forget.
“I helped,” he repeated, “but you take on more than anybody, and you take it on here.” He tapped his heart.
“Odran did this, all this, to get to me. Not my fault,” she said before he could speak. “Not mine, not my father’s, my mother’s, Nan’s. It’s all his. But that doesn’t change the fact so many are dead because Odran wants me, what I am, what I have. So if I can lessen a little of the pain even for a little while by taking it in, that’s what I need to do.”
He unhooked their arms and used both of his to draw her in. “And that’s why I’m staying.”
“That’s why I’m asking you to go back.” Lifting a hand, she stroked his cheek, looked into his warm, worried brown eyes. “I want to go back myself, but I feel I need to stay awhile longer. But that means I’m not there for Morena, for Finola and Seamus. They’re family to me, Marco, and I’m not there for them.”
“You were, and they know you’re here now for Phelin’s mom and dad, for his wife, his brother.”
“That’s a big part of why I need to stay. Go, be there for Morena and the rest for me, Marco. For the valley. We lost too many. Go back with Brian.”
“First, Brian’s leaving tomorrow at freaking dawn, and he’s heading west on his dragon. No way in hell, girl, I’m flying on a damn dragon again in this lifetime.”
He made her smile. “I could make you a calming potion.”
“Hey, there’s an idea!” His big brown eyes rolled. “I fly on a dragon but get high first. How about no?”
“How about you ride on a horse? Keegan’s sending Brian and some troops west, and some will be on horseback. You like riding. Hell, you ride better than me, which sort of pisses me off. It would take a worry off, Marco. I swear to God that’s the truth.”
“Let me see that face.” He cupped it, looked into her eyes, then sighed. “Damn it, it’s the truth. I don’t like leaving you.”
“I know, so I know I’m asking you to do the hard. But I’ve got Keegan and my fierce dog.”
Bollocks leaped onto the bridge, shook joyfully. Water flew; his eyes danced. But she remembered how he’d leaped into battle; she remembered the blood on his muzzle and the warrior gleam in those happy eyes.
“And,” she added, “I just happen to be a pretty powerful witch.”
“Pretty powerfuldoesn’t cover it. I’ll go, but you have to promise you’ll send a message. Every day, Breen—that’s deal-breaker time. Send, you know, a falcon or whatever.”
“I went to Ninia Colconnan’s shop yesterday and got you a scrying mirror.”
“A what now?”
“It’s a way to talk to you. Plus, it’s pretty. Consider it a kind of Zoom call. I’ll show you how it works.” She pushed her hands through her mass of curling red hair. “This takes a load off, seriously. Plus, the practicalities. If Sally or Derrick try to get in touch, they can’t reach us. They’ll worry.”
It was a good lever, she’d calculated, using Sally, the mom of the heart for both of them, to nudge Marco along.
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”
“So you can head that off, do a little FaceTime with Philadelphia when you get back. And”—she drilled a finger into his belly—“get the hell back to work, for me.”
Crouching down, she ran her hands over Bollocks to dry him, had his purple-hued curls springing.
“What about you? I know you can’t be writing much.”
“A little.” She gave Bollocks’s doggy beard a gentle tug before she rose. “I haven’t been able to work on Bollocks’s next adventure, just can’t write the happy right now. But I’m working some on the second draft of the adult novel. I’ve got more insight into battle scenes now.”
“Ah, Breen.”
She leaned against him. She could always lean against him.
“It’s okay, Marco. We covered that already. We fought and killed evil things.” She looked back at him, her gray eyes hard, her shoulders set. “When the time comes, I’ll do it again. And again and again, until this is finished.”
Then the hard softened, and she took his hands. “Come on, I’ll help you pack and give you a lesson in scrying mirrors.”