Going to war, Marco thought. It seemed impossible he was falling for a man with wings who was going to war.
“Come back with me now. We’ll go over to the cottage.”
“I cannot. None of the Fey can travel outside of Talamh until after we settle things on Samhain. Will you wait for more, Marco, as I need to wait? I want more walks with you, more words, more time. I want to lie with you. But first, I ride for Talamh, for the Fey, for your world and all.”
“I’ll wait.” He held Brian close, felt the brush of wings on the backs of his hand.
Breen finally managed to slip away from the ceilidh. She’d done a quick search for Marco, then decided he’d take one of the options they’d discussed. Maybe she’d enjoyed herself more than she’d anticipated, but—no, she admitted, no question she had. Still, she found herself exhausted from talking to so many people, from drinking wine, from dancing (because no one gave her a choice). She really wanted bed.
Then she had Keegan to think about. Or not think about, she corrected, and she would think about him if she stayed. She didn’t want to think that in two days, her prophecy of the battle in the south could become reality.
She didn’t want to think, at least for a few hours, and if she slept, she wouldn’t.
It wasn’t hiding from that reality, she assured herself. It was more, right now, recharging to prepare for it.
When she started across the road, Bollocks let out a greeting bark. Glancing over, she saw Marco walking with the dragon rider—who was apparently also her cousin.
Holding hands, she noted, and felt her heart melt a little.
“Are you going back?” Marco called out.
“I’m partied out. Go ahead and stay. Your guitar’s still in there, and they’ll absolutely get you to play it again.”
“No, I’ll go back with you. I can get the guitar tomorrow. You haven’t actually met Brian.”
“That’s Cousin Brian.” He stepped up to Breen, kissed both her cheeks. “I liked your songs, very much.”
“Thanks. It’s really good to meet you. I didn’t know I had family here besides Nan.”
“Mairghread the Powerful is family enough for most, but you’ve quite a number of cousins across Talamh, and on the other side as well. And all are glad you’ve come, and I’m glad you brought Marco with you.”
He glanced toward the Welcoming Tree. “It’s sorry I am I can’t escort you back over. It’s not permitted until after Samhain.”
“I didn’t realize.” Then she did. “You’re going to the south.”
“Before the day breaks. But I’ll see you soon after at the Capital, and we’ll have more time to talk.” Smiling, he turned to Marco. “And walk. And more. Sleep well.”
Breen had to hold back a sigh when they kissed.
“Stay safe.” Marco squeezed his hands as Brian drew away.
“To a warrior you say, fight well, stand strong.”
“Okay, fight well, stand strong.”
“And so I will. Good night to you both.”
“And stay safe,” Marco whispered when Brian walked away toward the field of tents.
“You’ve got heart eyes, Marco Polo.” Breen grabbed his hands. “And I want to hear all about it on the way back.”
“Am I walking?” He went with her across the road. “Because it feels like my feet are way above the ground.”
“Your feet are walking. The rest of you’s floating. First let me say he’s charming, and he’s definitely smoking, and I’m pretty sure I saw stars in his eyes when he looked at you.”
“They sparkle.” After he climbed the wall, Marco sighed for both of them. “They really do. We sat on the wall out front for a while, just talking.”
Breen kept his hand because he still looked dazzled. “About?”
“Oh, about the party, the music, the cousin thing. That’s a hell of a thing, right?”
So dazzled, Breen noted, he moved from Talamh to Ireland without the slightest reaction.
“It is. He lives in the north?”
“Not right now. He’s in the Capital. Maybe it’s like being stationed there. And we walked down to the beach, and there were Mers swimming and singing, and the moons, and he has wings. Blue wings, like his eyes.”
“He’s of the Sidhe?”
“Yeah, that.”
Bollocks pranced along beside them instead of running ahead. He kept his head cocked, and his eyes on Marco as if taking in every word.
“I was feeling all I was feeling, but I wasn’t sure if it worked the same in Talamh, you know? So I thought I needed to ask rather than screwing it all up by making a move. And he kissed me.”
“You’re killing me, Marco. On the beach, with the Mers, the moons?”
“I know, right? And we just kissed and kissed, and he said we needed to wait until after this stupid battle because stuff. And he’s an artist, and he’s been to Paris. And I think I might be in love. I know I just met him, but I never felt like this. It’s more than the lust haze. It’s more.”
“Then I’m going to love him, too.”
“Maybe I’ll feel different when we’re out of Talamh, back in Ireland.”
“Marco, we’ve been back in Ireland, and we’re nearly back to the cottage.”
“What?” He tried to look everywhere at once in the light Breen had brought to guide their way. “Wow. Jeez. I don’t feel different, so that answers that. He’s going to fight those crazies, Breen. What if something happens to him? What if—”
“Don’t. Don’t think that way. I know it’s hard, but we can’t think that way.”
Fretting now, Marco rubbed a hand over his bracelet. “Can you make him something like this, something like you made me?”
“Yes, and I will. I have everything I need right here in the cottage.”
“I know it’s too late for tomorrow, but when he gets back … Can I help? I know I don’t have the woo-woo, but can I help make it?”
“You can pick the leather and the stones.”
“Thanks. Can we sit out for a few minutes? I just need to settle a little.”
“Sure. Bollocks wants his bedtime swim anyway. We’ll sit, and we’ll have one more glass of wine. I was too busy talking, singing, and dancing to drink very much. And you were too busy getting kissed in the moonslight. We’ll toast those who fight well, stand strong.”
He caught her in a hug as they reached the cottage. “No one ever had a better friend than you.”
In the morning, Breen got in as much work as possible before she heard Marco in the kitchen. Knowing keeping busy didn’t do away with worry, but could cut it back, she shut down.
He stood at the door with his coffee, looking out at the bay. And thinking, no doubt, of the bay on the other side.
She hugged him from behind.
“Did you eat?”
“I think I’m lovesick. Kills the appetite.”
“Tell you what. I’ll make us a late breakfast.” She went into the kitchen, got a box of cold cereal from the cupboard. “My specialty.”
It made him laugh. “That’ll work.”
“And after we eat, we’ll make Brian’s bracelet.”
“It can wait. I know you want to write.”
“I’m in a good place to stop, and this is priority.”
“Thanks.”
“And when we’re done?” She glanced up as she poured cereal into bowls. “We’ll go over early. We’re going to take that ride—our first ride together—to Dad’s grave. I told Nan last night we’d stop by on the way back, before I have to go train.”
She kept up the chatter as she brought over the bowls, the milk, another bowl with berries. “Let’s have pizza tonight, pop some corn, stream a movie. Then tomorrow’s Finian’s birthday, and I’ve got an idea for a gift.”
“You’re trying to keep me busy.”
“And me, too. I’m worried, too; afraid, too. And … I have powers, Marco, but they’re not enough. They don’t want me in this because I’m not enough yet.”