“I was payin’ attention to other things.”
“Aye.” He paused. His expression was warm, certain, slightly amused at her. “Ye were.”
The elder unwound the cord from their wrists and handed it to Noah, who pocketed it with the particular care of a man who intends to keep it.
The ceilidh was in the great hall itself, the tables pushed back, and the fiddlers already playing before the ceremony had properly finished.
Elliot had apparently been involved in organizing this, which explained why it was both well-run and slightly chaotic around the edges, in exactly the ways a ceilidh should be.
Annabeth found Ava first, near the edge of the dancing.
“Marcus is speakin’ to Elliot,” she said, appearing at Ava’s elbow. “Which means they’re almost certainly talkin’ about somethin’ they willnae tell us about. I’ve stopped askin’.”
She looked out at the dancers. A stretch of the Willow currently in lively motion, Caitlin visible at one end of it, smiling. “A few years ago I wouldnae have thought this would happen, ye ken.”
“The ceilidh?”
“Noah,” Annabeth said plainly. “He was different back then. After his father died, the debts and the war with our clan. Thankfully, Marcus and he were of the same mind ththat it was all nonsense and agreed to rebuild what their fathers nearly destroyed between the clans.” She glanced at Ava. “He managed everythin’ on his own Whatever it took to save his clanHe was good at it. Steady, capable and never once behaving as though he’d rthere be anywhere else. But there was a quality to him like somethin’ bein’ held under pressure for a very long time.”
She glanced at Ava. “He isnae like that now.”
“He’s still intense,” Ava said.
“Oh, completely. But it’s different. It’s...” Annabeth considered. “He’s present, now. Before, he was always a step outside of everythin’, managin’ it. Now he’s actually in it.” She smiled. “That’s ye.”
“That’s him,” Ava said. “He decided.”
“Aye. But he decided because of ye.” Annabeth touched her arm briefly. “I’m glad. Truly.”
Marcus appeared at Annabeth’s shoulder.
“The fiddle’s startin’ a reel,” he said. He looked at his wife. “We’re dancin’.”
“We are?”
“Aye.” He held out his hand with the flat, total certainty of a man to whom alternatives have not occurred.
Annabeth took it with a smile.
“He does that,” she told Ava, as she was pulled gently toward the floor. “Just presents it as fact. I still havenae figured out if it’s charmin’ or insufferable.”
“Both,” Marcus said, without looking back.
Noah was beside Ava before the reel had properly begun.
He had appeared the way he always appeared. She hadn’t heard him coming, and then he was simply there, at her shoulder.
“Ye were talkin’ to Annabeth,” he said.
“Aye. She told me ye were different before.”
“She’s nae wrong.” He was watching the dancers. “I was.”
“Different how?”
He thought about it in the way he thought about things, honestly, without deflecting.
“Like everythin’ was a problem to solve. Includin’ things that shouldnae have been.” He glanced at her. “Ye’re nae a problem to solve.”
