The way Bollocks trotted beside her, she knew he was as happy to be back as she.
“We’re not really castle types, are we?”
She veered to the side when a wagon rumbled up, and noted the trio of kids in the back.
“No school today?” she wondered aloud. “What day is it? I’ve lost track.”
She saw the group she thought of as the Gang of Six playing a game with a red ball and flat sticks in a near field, so called out.
“No school today?”
Mina, the de facto leader, waved. “Well, it’s Saturday, isn’t it? And welcome back to the valley.”
“It’s good to be back.”
One of the boys transformed into a young horse, snatched the ball in his mouth, and raced off with it.
“Foul!” Mina cried, and went elf speed in pursuit. “There’s a foul!” Fantastic as it was, Breen thought as she continued on, it was blissfully simple. Children playing on a Saturday afternoon as children did everywhere.
Or should.
She made the turn toward Marg’s cottage, marveled at the flowers still blooming despite the chill. And saw the blue door open. Because she was expected. And she was welcome.
Inside, the fire snapped in the hearth and the air smelled of fresh bread and sweet things.
She heard Finola’s quick laugh.
They stood together at the counter, her grandmother and Marg’s closest friend. Faerie and witch, laughing together as Marg set a boule of crusty bread on a rack to cool.
“So I said to him, Seamus, if your arse wasn’t so warm, it wouldn’t invite my cold feet to rest on it. And what does he do but roll right over and …Ah, and look here, it’s Breen.”
Breen walked into the hug. “Don’t I get to hear what happened next?”
“What happened next is what you’d expect when a man rolls on top of you in the night.” She laughed again, blue eyes sparkling.
“And so it is Fi’s feeling chipper today,” Marg finished.
“Sure I am. And how are you, darling?” She brushed a hand over Breen’s hair. “It’s good to have you back in the valley, safe and well. Such a brave one you’ve been.”
“I don’t know about brave, but I’m glad to be back. Morena and Aisling are coming.”
“I expected they would, so Sedric brought me some fresh buttermilk from the farm for the soda bread. And there’s jam he made himself, and lemon biscuits. And,” Marg added, going into her jar, “we wouldn’t be forgetting such a good dog.”
“Where is Sedric?”
“He took himself off, leaving the kitchen to the women as a wise man would.”
“What he did last night? It was amazing. I can’t imagine what it took out of him.”
“He’s a lot in him, but I can tell you he slept like the dead, and there was no rolling over.”
Finola let out another laugh. “Well now, there’s always tonight. We’ll have wine, won’t we, Marg, for our girl talk?”
“We will indeed. I’ve a bottle of the sparkling sort I’ve been saving for such a day.”
“I wasn’t gone very long.”
Marg only smiled. “You traveled farther than you might think. Let’s have the fancy plates and such, Finola.”
“I’ll help with that. I met your son, Finola. Or I met him again, and his wife, their sons, their wives. I remembered them, Flynn and Sinead and Seamus and Phelin. As soon as I saw them again, I remembered.”
“Sinead sent a falcon to tell me. It meant that much to her. She loved you so.”
“I remember. I remember how Flynn would toss me in the air so it felt like flying, and how Sinead tied ribbons in my hair. I remember the night Odran took me, and you brought me back …”
Breen folded the colorful cloths into fans.
“What do you remember?” Marg asked.
“I remember my mother crying and shaking. It scared me. It’s not her fault, I don’t mean that, but it scared me. And you, Finola, you gathered her up, held her, rocked her, and Sinead took me and Morena into her lap.”
She paused as it came back, all so clear. “She must have been frightened. Her husband was fighting a war, but all I felt was her calm. The boys were there, too. They were just kids. And she told us a story about a young dragon and a young girl and a great treasure. I don’t remember exactly, but I remember her voice. So soothing. And Keegan—I’d forgotten. Keegan sitting nearby, watching me. Just watching. I fell asleep holding Morena’s hand, with Sinead holding me.”
“She was born to be a mother,” Finola said. “Some are.”
“And mine wasn’t. I’m not blaming her,” Breen said. “It was a terrible night for her. I think it broke what was already starting to crack. She loves me in her way, but her way is limited. I have you, both of you, and Sinead, and Sally in Philadelphia. That’s a lot of mothers for one person.”
Aisling and Morena came in, and Morena eyed Finola.
“Now, what would bring a tear to your eye today?”
“A sentimental tear. And where are those boys of yours, Aisling?”
“Napping, thank the gods, and I’ve young Liam O’Malley minding them, as he can keep up with their energies once they wake again. And how pretty it all looks, Marg.”
“We’ve sparkling wine to go with the rest. A few sips for you won’t hurt that baby,” Marg added.
“The way she kicks—and I’ll keep saying she until I get me a girl— she could handle a whole bottle and not slow down.”
They sat with bread and jam, biscuits and tarts, and Marg poured the wine.
“Sláinte.” Morena lifted hers. “One and all. And now I want to hear it. Tell us the story, Breen.”
“I’ve only had bits of it,” Aisling added. “And from Mahon, who’s a man—as most are—stingy with details even if he remembers them. But tell me first: Is it true Shana tried to put a knife in your back?”
“She did.”
“Ah, the devil’s whore. We never liked her, did we, Morena?”
“Not a bit. She always looked at me as if I was something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe.”
“She did.” Aisling gestured in agreement. “She did indeed. And to me it was a superior sort of smirk, queen to farmwife. And still, I want to know some of what she wore, as she had brilliant clothes.”
“There was a green dress, deep green with a sheen and a square neckline, and she didn’t quite hide the look that said I was considerably less than expected.”
She started the story at her approach to the Capital, her impression of it, and the village, and found as she went on—the scene staged in the courtyard, Shana’s visit to her room—their outrage equaled support. She could laugh, enjoy the wine and biscuits, and feel part of something.
A circle of women.
“I like Brian, what I know of him.” Morena slathered bread with butter and jam. “I can approve of him for Marco.”
“They’ll be relieved to hear it, as they really seem to be in love. And Marco looked very handsome for the Welcome, and he’ll thank you, Nan, for sending the outfit. As I do for the dress. I’ve never had anything so beautiful. Keegan said …”
Every one of them leaned forward.
“What?” Morena demanded. “Don’t leave us hanging on the hook.”
“He said I’d dressed in stars, and that’s how it felt.”
“That’s poetic coming from him.” Aisling nibbled on a biscuit. “I’ll have to see this dress for myself. It must’ve dazzled.”
“I was so nervous. It’s so different there. The grandeur of it, even though everyone—except you-know-who—was so warm. The banquet room, all the lights, the ceremony of it all. So lush after the strict protocol of the Judgment, and the heartbreaking beauty of the Leaving.”