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“Deidre?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the din of the street.
She lifts a hand in a casual wave, as if she hasn’t been missing from my life for what feels like an eternity.
“Deidre!” The cry rips from my throat before I can think. My pack slips from my shoulders, clattering to the ground as I take off at a sprint. My legs move faster than they have all day, carrying me toward her, toward home.
When I reach her, I throw my arms around her, holding on as tightly as I can, like letting go might make her vanish. She hugs me back just as fiercely, her presence solid and warm, grounding me in a way I didn’t realise I needed.
“I thought—,” I murmur, my voice trembling as tears sting my eyes. “I—I didn’t know if—”
Deidre pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands still resting on my shoulders. Her gaze softens, and I can see the sorrow etched into her features, mingling with the joy of our reunion.
“I know, love,” she says, her voice low and tender. “I know about your parents. I’m so sorry, my girl.”
Her words hit like a stone dropped into still water, ripples of confusion spreading through me. “How…?” My voice falters. “How could you know?”
She hesitates as she considers how much to say. “There’s much we must discuss, Triona,” she finally declares, her tone steady yet laden with gravity. “But not here. Let us return to my home first—we shall have all the time we need.”
I glance back over my shoulder at the others, who stand rooted to the spot, staring at us with expressions ranging from shock to tentative relief. Callan nods once, as if to say we’ll follow Deidre’s lead.
“Finnis MacGregor,” she says teasingly admonishing him, gesturing for him to come over. “Still tall, still brooding, but a little more handsome than the last time I saw you.”
His head lifts at the sound of her voice, and the faintest hint of a smile crosses his face as he steps toward her. There’s something unguarded about the way he moves, a quiet eagerness in his stride that I rarely see from him.
Finn chuckles as he returns the hug. “I could say the same about you,” he replies, a rare lightness in his voice.
“You always were a charmer.” Deidre steps back, studying him with a fond smile. “You look well, boy. I was worried about you.”
“Dinnae fash yerself over me,” Finn says, shaking his head. “I’m not the one with a secret residence in Portugal.”
Deidre’s laughter rings out like a bell, clear and unapologetic. “Touché, lad. But I think you’ll find I had my reasons.” Her expression softens, her gaze searching his. “It’s good to see you. Truly.”
Finn nods, his grin dimming slightly, though the warmth in his eyes lingers. “Good to see you too, Deidre.”
Deidre’s grin widens as Callan approaches, his stride purposeful as always. She steps forward to meet him, arms open, and pulls him into a brief but fierce hug.
“Still a grumpy bear, I see,” she teases as she pulls back, her hands lingering on his shoulders. “Though maybe with a few more grey hairs this time.”
Callan snorts, a rare flicker of amusement crossing his face.
Casey’s next, striding up with an easy smile that matches Deidre’s energy. “Aye, and here’s my favourite troublemaker,” Deidre says, wrapping him in a warm hug.
“Always yer favourite, aren’t I?” Casey quips, his grin widening as he hugs her back.
“You know good and well that you’re tied with the others,” Deidre replies, winking at me over his shoulder.
When they part, her gaze lands on Bran, who’s hanging back slightly, his expression unreadable.
“This is Bran Mumford,” I say, stepping slightly to the side to let him come forward. “He’s… well, he’s one of us.”
She steps closer, studying him for a moment before speaking.
“You look so much like your mother,” she says, her voice tinged with something akin to nostalgia. “And you’re tall, just like your father.”
Bran’s usual guardedness falters, replaced by a look of sad fondness that makes my chest tighten. He blinks, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but no words come out.
Deidre smiles gently, her gaze unwavering. “They’re a rare people, your parents. The kind that are loyal to the very end.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, none of us speak. Casey and Callan exchange confused glances, while Finn straightens slightly, his brow furrowed. I can feel the questions rising to the surface, clamouring for answers. How does she know his parents? How does she know Bran at all? And why did Bran look so affected by it?
