The dog led the way, always in sight. As she saw the cottage through the trees—at last—Iona watched the hawk circle through the heavy sky.
The minute they were inside, Iona’s teeth began to chatter. As gray teased the edges of her vision, she pressed her hands to her knees, lowered her head between them.
“Sorry. Dizzy.”
“Hold your guts a moment.” Though her voice rang with impatience, the hand Branna laid on the back of Iona’s head stayed gentle, and the dizziness passed as quickly as it had come.
“Sit,” she ordered, giving Iona a shove into the living room, flicking her fingers toward the smoldering fire to have the flames leap up and spread more heat. “You’re having a bit of shock, that’s all. So sit, breathe.”
Briskly she walked to a decanter, poured two fingers of whiskey in a short glass. “And drink.”
Iona drank, hissed a little, drank again. “Just a little . . .” She sighed. “Scared shitless.”
“Why were you off the path, and so deep?”
“I don’t know. It just happened. I didn’t turn off, or don’t remember turning off. I was just walking home, and thinking about stuff. Boyle,” she admitted. “We made up.”
“Oh well, that’s fine then.” With two jerks, Branna pulled pins from her hair, tossed them on the table as it tumbled free. “All’s well.”
“I didn’t go off the path, not knowingly. And when I realized I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, should’ve been, I started back. But . . . the fog came first.”
Iona looked down at the empty glass, set it down. “I knew what it meant.”
“And didn’t call us, or your guide? Called to none of us.”
“It all happened so fast. The trees—they moved, the fog closed in. Then the wolf was there. How did you come? How did you know?”
“Connor was out with Roibeard, and the hawk saw, from above. You can thank him for calling Connor, and me.”
“I will. I do. Branna—” She broke off as the door opened and Connor walked in.
“There’s nothing now. He’s gone to whatever hole he uses.” He walked to the whiskey, poured his own. “And how are you doing now, cousin?”
“Okay. All right. Thank you. I’m sorry I—”
“I don’t want apologies,” Branna snapped. “I want sense. Where’s your amulet?”
“I—” Iona reached for it, then remembered. “I left it in my room this morning. I forgot—”
“Don’t forget, and don’t take it off.”
“Ease back a bit there.” Connor touched Branna’s arm as he walked over to Iona. “You gave us all a fright.” Now his hand stroked Iona’s arm, and the calm seeped into her. “It’s not your fault. It’s not her fault,” he said to Branna before she could snap back. “She’s barely a week under her feet. We’ve a lifetime.”
“She won’t have time or opportunity for more if she doesn’t have the good sense to wear what protection she has, and to call out for her guide and for us when she needs more.”
“And who’s been educating her if not you?” Connor tossed back.
“Oh, so it’s my fault now she’s no more sense than a babe in a pram.”
“Don’t fight about me, and don’t talk over me. It was my fault.” Steadier, Iona rose to go stand nearer the fire, and the warmth. “I took off the amulet, and I wasn’t paying attention. Neither will happen again. I’m sorry I—”
“By all that’s holy, I swear I’ll sew your lips shut a week on the next apology.”
Iona just threw up her hands at Branna’s threat. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Just tell us what happened, in detail, before we got to you,” Branna told her. “No, back in the kitchen. I’ll make the tea.”
Iona followed her back, then crouched to pet Kathel, to thank him. “I was walking home, from the big stables.”
“Why were you there?”
“Oh, Fin sent for me. They gave me a student, for jumping instruction. I rode over on Alastar. We flew a little.”
“Sweet Brighid.”
“I didn’t mean to, exactly, and I stopped. Then Fin had to leave, but Boyle stayed to supervise, to make sure I didn’t screw it up, I’d say. I asked to meet Darling, but first I met Aine, and oh my God, she’s miraculous.”
“I’m not interested in a report on the horses,” Branna reminded her.
“I know, but I’m trying to explain. Then I met Darling, and watched her and Boyle, and I couldn’t stay mad at him. Then one thing led to another because I wasn’t mad at him.”
“Why were you?” Connor wondered.
“Oh, we had kind of a thing this morning when he picked me up.”
“He kissed the brains out of her ears,” Branna supplied, and Connor’s grin broke out.
“Boyle? Did he indeed?”
“Then he was rude and nasty, and that pissed me off. But then, watching him and Darling, I just couldn’t stay mad, so I told him I wasn’t mad anymore, and then it was the one thing leading to another and he just grabbed me and did it again. I’ve probably lost at least twenty percent of my brain cells now. And the lesson went really well, it felt so good to have a student again, so I was feeling good, and distracted,” she admitted, “and thinking that maybe I should ask Boyle out—for a drink or the movies, or something. It was such a good day, after a rocky start, and I was just full of all of it. Then I wasn’t where I should’ve been.”
She told them the details she remembered.
“You didn’t focus,” Branna said. “If you’re to use fire as defense or offense, you have to mean it.”
“She’s never used it against anything or anyone,” Connor pointed out. “But she had the wit and the power to bring the fire. Next time she’ll burn his arse. Won’t you, Iona darling?”
“Damn right.” Because she’d never feel that helpless and terrorized again. “I was going to try again, and okay, I was terrified. Then Roibeard dived out of the sky. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“He makes a picture,” Connor said with a smile.
“Then Kathel was there, then both of you. I did freeze,” she admitted. “It was like being caught in a dream. The fog, the black wolf, the red gem glowing at its throat.”
“Feeding his power. The stone,” Branna explained, “and your fear. We’ll work harder. You’ll wear the amulet. Connor will walk you to the stables in the mornings, and we’ll see someone brings you home at the end of the day.”
“Oh, but—”
“Branna’s right. A week and he’s come at you in dreams, and in the here and now. We’ll be more careful, is all. Until we decide what’s to be done. Go get the amulet now, and we’ll get to work.”
Iona rose. “Thanks for being there.”
“You’re ours,” Connor said simply. “We’re yours.”
The words, and the quiet loyalty in them, made Iona’s eyes sting as she hurried through the back toward the kitchen and the cottage.
“She’s taken on a great deal in no time at all,” Connor began.
“I know it. I know it perfectly well.”
“And you were sharp with her, as you were frightened for her.”
Branna said nothing a moment, just went about the soothing process of making the tea. “I’m the one who’s teaching her.”
“It’s not your fault any more than it’s hers. And this was, for all of us, a lesson learned. He’s grown bold since she’s come here.”
“With the three of us together, he knows, as we do, the time’s coming. If he can harm her, or turn her—”
“She won’t turn.”
“She won’t, no, not willingly. She’s got your loyalty, I think, and far too much gratitude for too little given.”
“When you’ve had less than little in some things, you’re grateful for even a spoonful of more. We’ve always had each other. And we’ve always been loved. She wants love, the giving and the having of it. I didn’t pry,” he added. “It’s so much a part of her, I can’t not see it.”
“I see it myself. Well, she has us now, like it or not.”
Connor took the tea his sister gave him. “So, it’s Boyle, is it? Grabbing our cousin and kissing her stupid from the sounds of it. She’s barely landed on our doorstep, and my mate’s jumping her like a rabbit.”
“Oh, leave off being such a child.”
He laughed, drank tea. “Why would I leave off, when it’s such a grand time?”
10
FOCUS. BRANNA HARPED ON IT RELENTLESSLY. Iona struggled to find it, then hold it. She’d improved—Branna gave her frustratingly faint praise for that—but she’d yet to reach the skill her exacting mentor judged strong enough.
She wondered how the hell anyone could focus soaking wet and half frozen.
Rain poured out of thick gray skies as it had, without pause, for two solid days and nights. That equaled, for the most part, inside work for both her job and her craft. She didn’t mind it, not really. She enjoyed reorganizing the tack room with Meara, and working with Mick on instructing one young rider, and one feisty octogenarian in the ring.
She loved having extra time to groom and bond with the horses. She’d braided the manes of all the mares, delighted by the way they preened at the added attention. And though she sensed the geldings would have liked that style and attention just as much, she knew Boyle would object. So she’d worked a small, single braid into each, to please the horse and satisfy the boss.
And she learned. Inside Branna’s workshop with the fire simmering, the scents of herbs and candle wax sweetening the air, she’d learned to expand her own understanding, embrace her power, and begin to polish those raw edges. At night, she read, she studied while the wind blew that steady rain against the windowpanes.
But how the hell was she supposed to think, much less focus, with rain splatting on her head, and the raw chill of it shivering straight to her bones.
Worse, Branna stood there, absolutely dry, her hair a gorgeous black sweep, and her eyes merciless.
“It’s water,” Branna reminded her. She stood in the quiet sunlight she’d created, smiling coolly through the curtain of rain that fell outside her boundary.
“I know it’s water,” Iona muttered. “It’s running down the back of my neck, into my eyes.”
“Control it. Do you think you’ll be warm and dry and happy every time you need what you are, what you have? Will Cabhan wait for fine, fair weather to come for you?”
“All right, all right, all right!” Flickers of fire sizzled from Iona’s fingertips, and a stream of rain went to steam.
“Not that way. You’re not after changing it, though well done enough there. Move it.” Smoothly, effortlessly, Branna widened her sunny spot a few inches.