Seamus slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her tight against his side. “Talk to me, Leinth,” he murmured into her hair. “What’s bothering you?”
“How did she find us, Seamus? How in the name of everything holy and sacred did she find you?”
Seamus blinked. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
“Shouldn’t it? I couldn’t find you. Phelan couldn’t find you.”
“You all thought I was dead,” Seamus said. “You didn’t know to look.” He suppressed a sigh. Truth be known, I suppose I didn’t want you to look. I wanted you to have the chance to happy. I was trapped.
Leinth leaned her head against his shoulder and he smiled faintly. “Is that supposed to be comforting, Seamus?”
“Give me some credit,” he said. “I am trying.”
She laughed and slid her arm around his waist, squeezing gently. “I know. I’m just uncomfortable, that’s all. And I wonder what my sister will do when she finds out all that’s happening—because you know that she will. You’ll be in danger, I suspect.”
He sighed. “I always have been, Leinth. I’ve never been truly safe.”
I want you to be, though. You and the kin we have because of what we were—what we are to each other. He thought of Cameron for a moment and sighed. It felt strange to know that he had a many-times over great-grandson—possibly one of many.
“What are you thinking?” Leinth asked as they walked deeper into camp, her eyes roaming, seeking Eriú.
“Do you know them?” he asked.
“Do I know who?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Our…descendants. Do you know them?”
Leinth grew very quiet, her arm tightening around him again. He frowned, looking down at her.
“Leinth, if you don’t—“
“It’s not that,” she whispered.
“Then what?”
“I think that Cameron might be the only one left.”
