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I choked on the air, while beside me Cataline gasped. The baron, however, threw his head back and let out a long, belly-deep laugh before wiping at his eye.
“Aye, lad, I am.”
“And do rich grandsires give presents?” my son pushed, eyes gleaming.
The baron dissolved again, his laughter bringing the attention of his tense riders. They bristled, but the old man merely grinned and reached into the pouch at his side, pulling forth a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. He tossed it to Ewan who caught it with the precision of a warrior twice his age. He unwrapped it quickly, revealing in the soft moonlight—
“A dagger?” The lad’s eyes went wide and he glanced at me with such excitement that my Kteer purred in delight.
“For when you’re older,” the baron rushed to assure us, though whether he was speaking to Ewan or me, I was not certain.
“It used to be mine.”
Ewan studied it with the air of an acolyte accepting a holy relic, and I exchanged a wry look with Cataline over his head.
After tonight’s visit to the mainland, the lads could stay on Islay until they were strong enough to protect themselves in this world. I would teach him to use whatever blade he was given, because if Ewan was to cross the veil again, I’ll be dammed if the lad couldn’t hold his own. Then, once my son had proven his ability, mayhap he could visit his grandsire.
One day.
The baron’s gaze returned to Cataline, his lined face settling into something almost hopeful. Then his arms spread wide.
“Ewan.”
Ewan’s breath hitched, and he glanced up at his mother, some shyness finally overcoming him.
Cataline pressed her lips together thoughtfully, then looked at me. She saw my blade, the promise in my eyes, and very gently—very deliberately—she stepped forward with Ewan, hands on shoulders. She wouldn’t step between me and my sword, and she wouldn’t allow our son to step into this man’s arms alone.
The lad, taking Cataline’s lead, threw his arms around the old man’s neck. Baron Godwin embraced the lad with his eyes closed, hopefully not noticing how Cataline’s fear had spiked at the embrace.
Only I knew how brave she was being, because the worry tugged at me as well.
When they separated, Ewan scowled up at the old man.
“Your armor is hard.”
The baron made a choked sound as he wiped at his eyes.
“So ‘tis, lad—and so is the heart beneath it, I always thought. But with you…”
He sighed, then glanced up at Cataline.
“‘Twould bring me joy to see the lad each morning as I break my fast. To watch him grow into a man.”
Cataline, who understood the weight of that more than any of us, gave the baron a soft, sympathetic smile.
“We are happy where we are, my lord. But mayhap Ewan can visit you, when…when the time is right.”
The old man’s throat worked as he nodded, and when he raised his brow at Ewan, the lad’s face broke into a smile so wide I could see the gap where he had lost his tooth.
I should have known my son’s heart was big enough to hold one more.
The veil shimmered behind us, a restive mist coiling at the edges. I glanced back toward it, hearing the unspoken countdown in my head.
‘Twould close soon, and I needed my family to be on the other side of it.
My grip on my sword shifted, the weight of it grounding me as I took stock of this meeting. I still didn’t trust the baron entirely…but I also couldn’t deny the old man’s honesty in his questions, nor the way he looked at my son with something like longing.
Respect, then?
