“From who? Salom?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. We correspond often.”
“If you do, then you’ll know that the only thing I’ve been making are foes. Most Glacins are convinced my father orchestrates monthly blood sacrifices during which we kill a virginal, pure-blooded male.”
“How preposterous.” Yet my great-grandfather grins.
I raise an eyebrow. “You find this funny?”
“Let me guess…” Jaytair sighs, eavesdropping on our little chat. “A fabrication of Aodhan’s?”
“Now, now, Cathal,” Aodhan begins. “If you were stuck in a land with a bunch of pointy-eared snobs—alone, I might add”—he slings a piercing look my father’s way—“I dare you not to have sought out a little fun.”
“Aren’t you glad I did send you up north, though?” Dádhi asks.
Aodhan turns to look at his mate, who’s wandered toward Agrippina and Ceres. “I would’ve been glad for a friend,” he murmurs.
“You didn’t have any,” Jaytair deadpans, which makes Bisnonno hoot and my father crack a smile, a rare thing these days.
I worried his mood was brought on by the sight of Konstantin’s ring, but my mother promised it had everything to do with Lucin politics and nothing to do with my situation.
“Aside from giving us a predatory reputation,” I say, “Aodhan’s been amazing.”
Aodhan smiles. “Hear that, Mórrgaht.Amazing.”
My father shakes his head, smile still in place.
“How I love to hear about my greatness,” Aodhan muses.
That earns himmanyeyerolls.
“Where’s my favorite great-grandchild?” Mimi cups my face and presses a kiss to my brow.
“Youronlygreat-grandchild,” I reply with a grin. “I better milk that status before it changes.”
“You’ll always be my favorite great-grandchild. Just like your brother will soon become my favorite. I’ll simply havetwofavorites.” The intakes of air are so swift it sounds as though my family’s gaping mouths have managed to gulp down even my friends’ chatter. “What?”
“You weren’t supposed to divulge the babe’s gender, mi cuori,” Bisnonno chides her gently.
“A boy!” Mádhi exclaims, her pink eyes starting to glitter as she palms her abdomen.
My father heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Thank Mórrígan she had mercy on us this time around.”
“Lore!” My mother smacks his arm, but she’s smiling. And crying a little. But mostly smiling.
My father is all dark smiles. And winks. Well,onewink. For me.
“Would you care for a word of wisdom on your birthday?” Mimi asks, recapturing my attention. At my enthusiastic nod,she says, “Challenges don’t make one a challenger; they make one a fighter.”
I’m still absorbing her aphorism when I’m squashed in a hug by Lachlano and Naeva. Which of course, has Elio flinging his arms around the lot of us, loath to miss out on anything.
“Happy quarter-century!” they holler in unison.
“Do you think this is the year Isla masters adulthood?” Lachlano asks.
I laugh. “Says the most childish of the bunch.”
“Personally, I hope not,” Naeva murmurs. “Can you imagine her taking the time to think crazy schemes through?”
