“No one knows. He wouldn’t let anyone read it,” he answers, shaking his head. “I didn’t know she’d be here. I’m sure he’s fuckingreelingright now.”
“I don’t remember much from that year…” I say, trailing off. I drop my eyes to my fingers and pick at an unraveling thread in the comforter.
“Hey,” Callum’s feet appear in my line of sight. Instead of pulling my face to his, he crouches down so that he is looking up at me. “You were healing. No one else gets a say in how we clean up the blood.”
My eyes shoot to his.
“What’s the rest of that saying?” I ask slowly, thinking of the engraving on my book light.
“The people who wound us get no say in how we clean up the blood,” he recites, a small smile on his face.
I smile back. “I should have known. That was the only present I accepted that year. Thank you,” I whisper.
“Always,” he says, those icy blue eyes boring into mine with a sincerity that aches.
“So,” I say brightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you gonna tell me how many times you did things like that? How many things you snuck into my life without me knowing,” I say playfully.
“Nope. After all, you said you always knew when I was around. I’m not sure howthis oneslipped by you, so you’ll just have to figure it out on your own,” he says playfully. He stands again, pulling him with me. “Ready for dinner?”
“As ready as I can be. What should I expect?”
“Well, Uncail will not talk business at the table. Period. That is always done outside of his home, in the building out back. It’s something I had to get used to, but I actually like it now. It’s like a separation of church and state, ya know?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I say thoughtfully, thinking that I’d like to adopt the same practice whenever I take over for my father, and the thought surprises me. I’d never considered any real plans for it, never even pictured myself doing it. But now, for some reason, Icanpicture it. After everything that has happened over the past couple of days, I feelstronger, more capable. And with Callum by my side, I even feel… invincible.
I smile as I lace my fingers with his, and we descend the stairs. Voices float toward us from the living room as we get closer.
“Ah,Garnia, how were your travels?” I hear a gravelly voice exclaim, and I see an older gentleman who can be none other than Declan rushing over to greet Callum, extending a hand toward him.
“Travels were good. No issues to write home about,” Callum says, shaking Declan’s hand, then holding my left hand up to show him my ring. “Well, besides this.” A proud grin stretches across his face
“My futureGarneacht?Our boy did well, no?”Declan says, bowing to me. I nod my head, smiling broadly. He walks toward me, his gait surprisingly fluid for someone using a cane, and he kisses the top of my hand after admiring the ring.
“Come,” he says, motioning for us to follow him. “Let us eat, then we will talk.”
Chapter 38
Callum
Philalethist (n) someone who seeks truth
We walk into the formal dining room, and I pull out the chair to my right, gesturing for Maeve to sit. Uncail sits at the head of the table, where a glass of whiskey is already waiting for him.
“Where has Orin run off to?” Uncail Declan asks.
“He went to put his things away, I believe,” I say, covering for him. Tardiness is not something Uncail appreciates. “I asked him to make the chef aware that Maeve doesn’t like mushrooms, as well.”
“Ah, well,” Uncail Declan says with a hint of disapproval, throwing up his hands. “So Maeve, how is Cormac doing these days?”
“He’s well. I don’t really see him all that much.”
I can hear the hint of hurt in her tone, and I place my hand on her thigh and squeeze lightly.
“Good, good. You know, you remind me a lot of Imogen,” Uncail says thoughtfully, and Maeve stiffens.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice tight.
Suddenly, a man in a neat suit walks into the dining room, bowing slightly. “Lord Declan,” he says in a thick Irish brogue, “dinner is ready as soon as you are.”
