She hoped she could help, would know what to say—what not to say. And when Iona went into the workshop, Branna was already at the stove, with a dozen mirrored bowls set out on the counter.
“I’ve an order for these, so want to get them done straight off, and I’ve a mind to make up some sets—the small bottles—of hand lotion and scrubs and soaps. Put them together in the red boxes they sent me too many of, tie them with the red-and-green-plaid ribbon. Eileen can put them on special, as the company didn’t charge me for the overstock as it was their mistake. Some will wait till the final moment for the holiday shopping, so they should move well enough.”
Iona went with instinct, crossed over, and, saying nothing, put her arms around her cousin.
“I’m all right, Iona.”
“I know, but only because you’re so strong. I wouldn’t be. Just so you know, I’d get behind you if you just needed to cut loose.”
“Cut what loose?”
On a half laugh, Iona eased back. “I mean rant, rave, curse the heavens.”
“No point in it.”
“The ranting, raving, cursingisthe point. So whenever you need to, I’ve got your back. I’ll get the bottles, the boxes. I know where they are.”
“Thanks for that—for all of that. Would you mind running the little sets into the shop once we’ve done them? I’d like them out as soon as we can.”
“Sure. But do you just want them in stock, or do you want me out of here?”
Her cousin, Branna thought, had finely honed instincts. “Both, but you, just for a little while. I’m glad to have you, but for just a little while I could do with some alone. And when you come back, we can begin the more essential work between us.”
“All right.” Iona got out the boxes, began to assemble them. “How many of these?”
“Half dozen, thanks.”
“I think you’re right if you want my opinion.”
“About the boxes?”
“No, not about that. About what happened. About it being another power that pulled you and Fin together.”
“I’m not sure I’m right, or I’ve concluded just that.”
“It’s what I think.” She brushed at her cap of bright hair, glanced up. “Maybe—I hope I don’t push too hard on a sore spot—but maybe both you and Fin want to be together, maybe that wanting stirs up from time to time, and maybe last night, for whatever reason, was one of those times.”
“A lot of maybes in your certainty, cousin.”
“Circling around the sore spot, I guess. There’s no maybe in the wanting or the stirring. I’m sorry, Branna, it’s impossible not to see it or feel it, especially the more we all bind together for this.”
Branna kept her hands busy, her voice calm. “People want all manner of things they can’t have.”
Sore spot, Iona reminded herself, and didn’t push on it. “What I mean is, it’s very possible the two of you were a little vulnerable last night, that your defenses or shields were lowered some. And that opened the door, so to speak, to that other power. Not Cabhan, because that absolutely makes no sense.”
“It hurt us.” And left a terrible aching behind. “He lives to hurt us.”
“Yes, but...” Iona shook her head. “He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t understand love or loyalty or real sacrifice. Lust, sure. I don’t doubt he understands you and Fin are hot for each other, but he’d never understand what’s under it. Sorcha would.”
Branna stopped working on the candles, stared at Iona. “Sorcha.”
“Or her daughters. Think about it.”
“When I think about it, I’m reminded Sorcha’s the very one who cursed all that came from Cabhan, which would be Fin.”
“That’s true. She was wrong, but that’s true. And sure, maybe, considering he killed her husband, tore her from her own children, she’d do the same thing again. But she knew love. She understood it, she gave her power and her life for it. Don’t you think she’d use it if she could? Or that her children would?”
“So she, or they, cast the dreaming spell? Where we were together, and all defenses down, so we came together.”
