Thirty-two – 01

Seamus just stared at them, looking forlorn and lost for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered at last. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t…I couldn’t imagine.”

Phelan shook his head. “You knew the mantle you’d settled on my shoulders,” he said. “I’m shocked that you can’t imagine it.”

Seamus closed his eyes, exhaling a sigh. Neve reached for his hand and squeezed it hard.

“We’ll find a way,” she whispered. “I promise you, deartháir mór, we’ll find a way to win you from them.”

He gave her a grim smile, gazing at her through his lashes. “It’s a nice thought, Neve.”

“We’ll make it happen,” she said stubbornly. “You know us, we’ll find a way.”

He only nodded, seeming distracted for a moment as he gazed into the shadows of the ravine, at the branches like ink against the snow and sky. Neve’s hand tightened around his and he sighed softly, looking like he was about to say something.

“Seamus!”

He went rigid at the sound of Leinth’s voice, his eyes springing wide, breath catching in his throat. “Phelan,” he rasped, “when you said she was alive—“

“I told you she was here,” Phelan said. “Probably pissed as hell at me, too, since I had her guarding the fucking gates.”

Seamus’s breath came in ragged gasps as he sucked in two deep ones before he turned toward the sound of Leinth’s voice. “Mo ghrá daor,” he said in a bare whisper, moving away from his sister and his cousin, turning the face the ball of rage and pain moving quickly in his direction.

She slapped him. “That’s for letting me think you were dead.”

He rubbed at his stinging cheek. “I thought they killed you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you’d lived until Phelan told me.”

“That’s no excuse,” she said, voice shaking. Tears sparkled in the dim light. “I can’t believe she didn’t lord it over you.”

“She was the one who told me.” Seamus took her face in his hands and kissed her hard, wrapping one arm around her waist and drawing her tightly against his chest. “Nothing could have stopped me from escaping then if I’d known, mo ghrá daor. I swear it.”

Phelan sighed quietly, giving Neve a gentle squeeze as they watched Leinth return her lover’s kiss, his embrace.

“We should go,” he murmured to his cousin. “I don’t like feeling like a voyeur.”

Neve snorted humorlessly. “I’m afraid if we let him out of our sight, he’s just going to vanish.”

“He won’t,” Phelan said. “He’s here for a reason.”

“Did he tell you what it was?”

“He doesn’t even know.”

Neve shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. It almost felt like they were being watched, though she knew that wasn’t possible. She glanced toward the end of the bridge, toward camp, then back behind them. An unseasonable mist rose beyond the end of the bridge, near the arboretum and the pathway to the barrows.

“Phelan, look.”

He glanced back and swore, sweeping her up into his arms. “Seamus, Leinth, ward lines, now!”

Seamus jerked as if he were a puppet on strings, staring at Phelan. “What?”

“Bloody Grays,” Phelan snapped. “They were Vammatar’s puppets and now they’re back.”

He pushed past his cousin and headed for camp and the safety of the wards.

“What are you waiting for? Move!”

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This entry was posted in Book 4, Chapter 32, Story, Winter. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Thirty-two – 01

  1. Rather strange lovers reunion. Of course I understand the slap. Done that myself. When all hell breaks lose, it’s going to be noisy and deadly.

    Thanks for the new chapter.

    psssssst — I am female. No mister. LOL

  2. Lol whups! Sorry Ms Diekmann – no offense meant!

    Thanks for another wonderful, powerful instalment Erin – keep going!

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