Seamus huffed and took Asherton’s arm in his hands, gently running his fingers along the length of his crooked radius bone. “The swelling is better,” he said. “How did you break it?”
“Magdala fell on me,” Asherton replied dryly.
“Magdala saved his life,” Magdala said, ruffling his hair as she passed into the kitchen.
Zephyr was standing at the counter, looking weary and grumpy as he prepared tea.
Seamus stilled, his eyes resting on the fresh marriage scar around Asherton’s wrist.
Magdala lifted her chin defiantly, holding up her own arm. With a sharp inhale through his nose, Seamus gripped Asherton’s elbow and wrist, yanked, and twisted.
Asherton screamed and lurched forward on the table. The teapot shattered on the floor, and Zephyr cried, “Slorus, you animal!”
“DA!” Magdala shrieked. “What is bloody wrong with you?”
Seamus dropped Asherton’s arm. “Fixed.”
Asherton dragged his newly straightened arm into his lap and then bent over and vomited on the floor.
“What the hell, Da!” Magdala snapped. She ran to Asherton as he sat up, panting.
Seamus pushed his chair back loudly and stalked into the kitchen. After rifling around in a drawer, he found a wooden spoon and some leather straps and returned to the table.
“I’ll splint it,” he said, holding out his hand for Asherton’s arm.
Asherton let out a dry laugh. “Your bedside manner needs work.”
“You defiled my daughter,” Seamus growled.
“Unfortunately, there hasn’t been any time for defiling,” Asherton said.
Before Seamus could reply, Magdala snatched the supplies from him and sat in the chair across from Asherton. “Stay away from my husband,” she said.
“Why couldn’t you get a paper marriage, like your mother and I?” Seamus moaned. “Those are just as legal, and they’re not magical, eternal bonds with very serious consequences.”
“He has a point,” Zephyr muttered, then he looked mortified at himself. “Not that I agree with him, but it seems hasty.”
“Mags, I don’t think they believe we’re serious about this,” Asherton said.
“Well, it is hard to tell if this will last — it’s not as though we’ve both risked our lives for the other …”
“Several times …” Asherton added.
“You nearly drowned for me.”
“You were nearly blown up for me.”
Sinking into the lone wooden rocking chair by the fire, Seamus said, “No getting rid of him now, is there?”
A hopeful smile lit Magdala’s face. “Thank you, Da.”
“But Elegy belongs to you now, does it not?” he asked, leaning eagerly forward.
Magdala’s smile faded. For a moment, she had thought he was accepting her and Asherton because he loved her, because this was what she wanted. But it was still all tied to that wretched, wretched house.
“You can’t have the house, Da. We will live there if we want to, but you can’t have it back. It isn’t yours, and it never really was.”
Something dark crossed Seamus’s face—something Magdala couldn’t translate. “Alright then,” he said.
