“We’ve important business to discuss as well,” Branna reminded him. “And should be doing that with clear heads rather than French bubbles.”
“It’s her birthday.”
“Ah well.” On a sigh, Branna relented. “One bottle among us shouldn’t hurt anything.”
***
“I SHOULD’VE BEEN AFRAID,” MEARA MUTTERED TO CONNORon the return as Fin popped the first cork. “She’s a right terrible driver.”
“Only needs practice.”
“Please the gods and be right on that as I thought she’d do us both in the first kilometer. Still, it’s worth it. She never expected such a thing. Not just the gift, but the whole of it. And I think for all my family is fucked, I’ve never given a thought but there’d be a bit of a fuss for my birthday.”
“We’ve cake as well.”
“I never doubted it.” In the mood, Meara gave him a quick and affectionate one-armed hug.
He linked his arm around her before she could pull away, did a quick step. Laughing, she mimicked the footwork, then reached for the glass Fin held out. “I’ll take that for certain.”
“I’m going to make a toast,” Iona decided. “Because I’ve thought of what I want to say. In addition to thank you, which just doesn’t cover it. All of you, you’re mine, and that’s a gift I’ll always treasure. Every one of you is a gift to me, a blend of friends and family that’s stronger and truer and brighter than anything I ever imagined having. So, to all of us, together.”
She sipped. “Oh God, that’s really good!”
“A fine toast, and fine champagne.” Branna opened a cupboard, took a wrapped gift off a shelf. “And from your grandmother. I put it aside for her as she asked me.”
“Oh, Nan.” Delighted, Iona set the glass aside to open the gift, took out a sweater in dreamy blues. “She’d have made it,” Iona murmured, rubbing it to her cheek. “It’s so soft. She’d have made it for me.”
She took out the card, opened that.
For my Iona. There’s love and charms and hope in every stitch. Wear it when you want to feel most confident and strong. With wishes for your happiness today, and all days.
Love, Nan
“She never forgets.”
“Put it on,” Meara urged her. “I’ve never seen a lovelier jumper.”
“Good idea. I’ll be right back.”
“When you’re back, we’ll begin,” Branna said. “We’ve time before the food’s done to talk of the solstice, and what we’ll do. We do it well and right,” she added, “and on Iona’s next birthday, we’ll have nothing but friends and food and wine. And that’s a gift for all of us.”
“Well said,” Fin murmured. “Put on your gift, as it brings your grandmother close. Branna and I will shroud the house. No eye, no ear, no mind but ours will know what we do here, say here, think here tonight.”
20
THEY USED LIGHT, NOT DARK, TO CLOAK THE COTTAGE AND ALL IN IT. If Cabhan looked, as shadow, as man, as wolf, he would see only the light, the colors, hear only music, laughter.
It would, Branna explained, bore him, or annoy him. And he would think they simply played while he plotted.
“At moonrise, on the longest day, we form the circle on the ground where Sorcha lived, and where she died.”
Candles flickered throughout the kitchen where Branna spoke. The scents of cooking, the simmering hum of the fire, the steady breaths of the dog who slept under the table all spoke of ordinary things while they talked of the extraordinary.
And that, Iona realized, was the point.
“It’s for Fin to seek him, to lure him. Blood to blood.”
“You still doubt me.”
