It was Mabon, the Autumn Festival, a time of harvest and plenty, a time for celebration.
And a handfasting.
Jamie had only one regret—that his siblings were not here. He’d written to Billy—Will, he reminded himself, as his half-brother had decided to change his nickname to something that put more distance between himself and his father—and told him about Bran. Will was twenty-one, and had managed to get himself into a community college while working night shift as a janitor. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he knew he had to do something to get out of Maynardville. Nora was almost eighteen, Ginny fifteen, and Tommy eleven. Will was afraid for the youngest two—and so was Jamie, but Jamie also knew that when he was there, Bill Eckel was angrier than when he wasn’t.
Will had written back, promising that he would look out for the youngest two, since Nora was applying to a real four-year college in Memphis and was moving out—whether their father liked it or not. She didn’t plan on telling him.
Jamie missed them all. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know what to do beyond sending a little money and promising to come visit soon—Knoxville, so Bill Eckel wouldn’t know.
Jamie wished there had been a way to steal them all away—bring them here, to Elfhame, and keep them safe. But he also knew that would mean taking them from everything they knew. And it would mean convincing them that any of this was real, because he wasn’t going to abduct his own siblings, much as part of him desperately wanted to.
Will told him that things weren’t as bad as they used to be. That he should stay in Scotland and get married. That he should be happy.
Jamie still felt guilty about it.
Patch let out a soft chirp, and Jamie reached up absently to scratch her fluffy head. Bran had found—well,invented—some sort of charm that would supposedly turn thegealach marcaicheinto a large cat. Or, at least, make her look like one when she wore a collar that Jamie hadn’t yet had the heart to put around her neck. But then she could come with them back to Edinburgh.
“Come down now, love,” Bran said softly, winding his fingers with Jamie’s. “And dinna fuss.”
Jamie didn’t bother denying the fussing. Bran knew. “Okay,” he agreed, squeezing Bran’s hand.
Trixie and Rob and Mad Ally were waiting below. Trixie had braided autumn flowers and vines into her hair, wearing a dress of metallic gold that looked fantastic on her, Rob in a suit of vibrant orange, Mad Ally in the same camel brown he always wore. Jamie himself wore white—he couldn’t help it, it feltwrong not to—but Bran’s shirt was a rich, crimson red that made his eyes glow in the porcelain of his fair skin, the black of his hair and talons a vivid contrast.
He was gorgeous.
Jamie ran a hand through Bran’s feathered hair. “I love you,” he murmured.
Bran’s lips quirked. “I love you,” he replied. “Second thoughts?”
Jamie bent and kissed him.Never.
