CHAPTER NINETEEN
MAEVE
Itossed and turned for a while, the vivid images and sensations of the dream still whirling around in my head. Eventually, I must’ve drifted back to sleep because I woke up the next morning to the sun streaming through my windows and the heavy weight of Obelix snoozing on my feet.
As soon as I moved, Obelix stood up and glared at me.The vibe in here just got hostile,he seemed to be saying. I won’t stand for it.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who can lick my own butt,” I shoot back at him.
Obelix jumped down and disappeared down the stairs, yowling at the top of his lungs for breakfast. I yawned and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The haze of jet lag that had hung over me the last couple of days had mostly gone – and the numbness in my chest had slid away a little more as well, leaving me raw and a little nervous.
You have nothing to be nervous about. The guys can’t tell you had an orgy sex dream just by looking at you.
Although, if they are witches…maybe they can.
Nope, not thinking about it.I pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a cap-sleeved t-shirt and padded downstairs. The rest ofBriarwood House was already awake. Voices echoed through the castle as the guys joked with each other in what I was learning was their typical routine. I tried to follow their voices, but sound traveled weirdly between the enormous spaces and heavy-duty stone walls, and I still didn’t know my way around all the rooms. I peeked in the kitchen, and they weren’t there, although the neatly stacked dishes beside the sink and a fresh basket of vegetables told me Rowan had been at work.
I tried the rec room, but they weren’t there, either. “Hey guys!” I called out. “I’m Dorothy, lost in the land of Oz. Help me find my way to breakfast!”
Corbin called back. “We’re out on the porch. You take a left at the Great Hall and come through the drawing room.”
I followed their voices through the winding halls, taking a wrong turn out into the internal courtyard where a line of visitors waited for the first tour to start, before finally locating the door that would take me out onto the sprawling porch at the back of the castle. It overlooked the garden and the rolling fields and the wood, and the wild Crookshollow Forest beyond.
Rowan bent over the table, setting down platters of savory muffins and scrambled eggs. Corbin handed around plates – his arm still a little stiff from where the fae had hurt him – and Arthur handed me a flute of pink champagne.
“I thought life couldn’t get any better than waking up to freshly baked scones.” I accepted the glass and took in a deep whiff of the fresh, buttery and bacony muffins. “But you proved me wrong.”
“We wanted to give you something special.” Arthur’s thick fingers brushed mine. “To welcome you to Briarwood. Plus Rowan informed us that you don’t like tea.”
“I don’t know how you can drink it! It tastes like dirt.”
The guys laughed.
“But seriously, you didn’t need to do this for me. We already went to the pub, and you left all those presents in my room… if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were buttering up your landlord. Do you want me to put in an air conditioner or something?”
The guys exchanged a look. My veins sizzle.Can they see my dream somehow? Are they trying to tell me?—
Finally Corbin said, “Everyone at this table knows what it feels like to lose someone. We just want to make sure Briarwood is a safe place for you to mourn or… do whatever you need to do.”
“Now that you mention it…” Flynn grinned, rubbing the red lattice on his face. “I always thought the castle would be much improved with a pool. Perhaps a sauna.”
“And we could definitely get someone in to clean the gutters,” Arthur added. “Castles have a lot of gutters.”
Four faces stared adoringly at me. I blushed, reeling in their kindness and in the news Corbin had just shared with me, that they’d all grieved for someone they loved the way I was doing now.
If only they knew about the filthy dreams I’d had about them all the night before.
Thank whatever weird pagan gods witches worship that none of them had that crazy spirit power that could see into people’s dreams.
If spirit magic evenexisted. I still had my doubts. I hadn’t quite figured out how witches and elemental magic fit into my multiverse theory yet. With every day that went by at Briarwood, I grew more inclined to accept their word that fairies and witches were real.
They certainlyfeltreal.
Arthur swept my chair out for me, and I settled in. “Thanks, Aragorn.” I beamed, and Arthur bowed.
The guys started passing plates around the table, and I helped myself to two muffins and a giant pile of scrambled eggs. Rowan even had homemade chutney (another new British word I learned) in a tiny bowl, and I dumped a glob of that on top and dived in.
“So, aside from my postponed sword fighting lesson, what’s on the agenda today? More fairy-slaying?”
