“Aye.”
Brannaugh made the charm, and Sorcha hung it around her neck, next to her heart. She sipped more potion, and though her appetite was small, forced herself to eat.
She slept, and dreamed, and woke to find Brannaugh keeping watch.
“Off to bed now. It’s late.”
“We won’t leave you. I can help you to bed.”
“I’ll sit here, by the fire.”
“Then I’ll sit with you. We’re taking turns. I’ll wake Eamon when it’s his, and Teagan will bring you morning tea.”
Too weary to argue, too proud to scold, Sorcha only smiled. “Is that the way of it?”
“Until you’re all well again.”
“I’m better, I promise you. His magick was so strong, so black. It took all I had in me, and more, to stop it. Our Teagan, you’d be proud. So fierce and bright she was. And you, running toward us with your grandda’s sword.”
“It’s very heavy.”
The laugh felt good. “He was a big man with a red beard as long as your arm.” On a sigh, she ran her hand over Brannaugh’s head. “If you won’t go to your bed, make a pallet there on the floor. We’ll both sleep awhile.”
When her child slept, Sorcha added a charm to make Brannaugh’s dreams good and sweet.
And she turned to the fire. It was time, long past, to call Daithi home. She needed his sword, she needed his strength. She needed him.
So she opened her mind to the fire, opened her heart to her love.
Her spirit traveled over the hills and fields, through the night, through woods, over water where the moon swam. She flew across all the miles that separated them to the camp of theirclann.
He slept near the fire with the moonlight like a blanket over him.
When she settled down beside him, his lips curved, and his arm curled around her.
“You smell of home fires and wooded glades.”
“It’s home you must come.”
“Soon,aghra. Two weeks, no more.”
“Tomorrow you must ride with all haste. My heart, my warrior.” She cupped his face. “We have need of you.”
“And I of you.” He rolled over onto the vision of her, lowered his mouth to hers.
“Not for the bed, though oh, I ache for you. Every day, every night. I need your sword, I need you by my side. Cabhan attacked today.”
Daithi sprang up, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Are you hurt? The children?”
“No, no. But nearly. He grows stronger, and I weaker. I fear I can’t hold him.”
“There is none stronger than you. He will never touch the Dark Witch.”
Her heart broke at his faith in her, for she could no longer earn it. “I’m not well.”
“What is this?”
“I didn’t wish to burden you, and... no, my pride. I valued it too much, but now I cast it away. I fear what comes, Daithi. I fear him. I cannot hold him without you. For our children, for our lives, come home.”
