Irish Moon by Amber Scott Read Free Book Online

earlier,” she said.
“Given time to consider the events of the day, I’ve decided to
trust that Heremon is well enough, wise enough to care for
himself.” Taking the high moral ground and turning her cheek felt
good. Why give him what he so clearly wanted?
    “Interesting. Do tell me then, Breanne, what
will you do if he fails to show, unaware that his devotee is
patiently awaiting a lesson he doesn’t recall scheduling?”
    His voice was less sour, closer to the dry
wit she’d grown accustomed to. But the words needled her worse.
Damn. He was too good at this vicious game. Breanne steadied her
breathing so that her mind and emotions would follow suit.
    Moonlight broke free from
a cloud, brightening the cluster of trees they walked through. She
had no candle to light, no book to be reviewed and possibly no
lesson to be heard , but she refused to give in to climbing regret. Finn wasn’t
right, he was simply most happy when making her unhappy.
    “I will check in on him,” she said succinctly
and began searching the small clearing for ingredients to make a
potion for Finn. Perhaps that would make him happy. In the
underbrush a swath of white caught her eye. Recognizing it, Breanne
bent and retrieved a candle that her master must have missed.
    “Of course you will, brave girl that you
are,” Finn sneered.
    Carefully, she set the candle upon the stone
altar and closed her eyes in concentration. She raveled up her
thoughts into a little bundle, compressed the bundle into a ball
and chanted the words in her mind. Breanne had successfully created
fire only twice before, and neither occasion were close in
proximity, but she might as well try.
    The small orb slowly spun until it grew and
colored to a deep blue. Breanne opened her eyes, looked at the wick
and blew. She could feel the glowing orb’s energy deep in her chest
and breathed inwardly to catch it and push it out of her. When the
burning sensation left her body, nothing happened. She sighed in
resignation.
    Suddenly, a tiny flicker of light sparked the
candle’s tip. A small happy shriek escaped her open mouth as she
saw the flame take hold and dance.
    “Finn. Finn, I can hardly trust my eyes. Have
I done it?” She searched for him.
    “Astonishing. You make fire. Forgive me if I
don’t dance a jig, will you?” Finn blinked slowly, his ears pitched
back.
    Her smile widened. Finn was back to his old
self and as annoying as that persona was, it also comforted her.
She’d had enough of change today to last some time. Turning back,
Breanne watched the flame she’d charged from her own mind and felt
lifted.
    I can do this. I am meant for this.
    The joyous thoughts buzzed her veins with
promise and certainty. She rested her chin on her bent knees,
feeling like she could wait all night for Heremon. And if he did
not arrive, she would take heed of Finn’s words and check in on the
old Druid priest.
    Beeswax melted faster than
tallow. Or was it the other way around? Breanne couldn’t
remember , but
quashed the urge to ask Finn for verification and decided that of
either substance, this one had burned well long enough to warrant
seeking Heremon out. The beeswax was nearly all puddle, the flame
dwarfed with so little wick left to consume. Heremon hadn’t
shown.
    Breanne blew the candle out. The darkness
spread out around them. It was colder and the moon looked to be on
its descent. She should return to the keep. If her mother had
looked in on her, there would be more than hell to pay. Breanne
stood and brushed at her gown. She nudged Finn with her toe to wake
him.
    “We must go. You were right. Heremon hasn’t
come.”
    The cat yawned and stretched but didn’t rise.
“I’ll wait here.”
    She realized that he
thought she was going to find Heremon. She’d intended
to , but the cold
and the dark, along with a nagging rawness in her chest, changed
her mind. Finn lay his head back down and peeked up at her through
one eye. He didn’t have to speak a word for her