Breanna had dealt with Keely’s wrath. The dog sat at her feet, looking up at her until she took the offering and gave the expected praise. “And I’d better let you get back to your own work.”
Breanna studied the dog. Then she looked at him, the light in her eyes making him want to check to make sure his purse hadn’t been stolen. “How old is your sister?”
“Ten,” he replied cautiously.
“Wouldn’t she like a dog?”
“I’m not taking him.”
“He’d be a fine companion for a young girl.” “He’d be a domestic disaster.”
She drew in a breath to say something else, then simply grinned. “He is that. But you could consider him a peace offering.”
He grinned back at her. “Your keeping him here is a much better peace offering.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Come along, then. I’ll walk you over to your horse.”
He fell into step with her, keenly aware of how easily their strides matched.
“Keely,” Breanna said quietly. “Oakdancer has to go home now.”
Keely pouted, reminding Liam of Brooke. “Arthur hasn’t come to fetch him yet.”
“He’s not going home with Arthur,” Breanna said firmly. “He’s going home with Liam.” She gave the stallion a pat as she slipped an arm around Keely’s shoulders and moved her away from the horse.
Liam mounted. “Ladies.”
“Blessings of the day to you, Liam,” Breanna said.
How much had it cost her to say those words? Liam wondered as he held Oakdancer to an easy canter all the way home. How hard had it been to grow up with a mother who had never grown beyond childhood emotionally? That had been his father’s doing, the scars Elinore said time hadn’t healed. And yet .
Breanna was his sister. She was a witch. She had power that frightened him now that he’d seen a small demonstration of it. And yet she was a woman like any other.
A sister.
A witch.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, how he felt about her. But he knew he’d find another reason, before too many days had passed, to cross that bridge again for another visit.
“You liked him.”
Standing next to Nuala as they watched Keely throw a stick for Idjit to fetch, Breanna nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I liked him. I didn’t expect to, didn’t want to.”
“He’s your brother,” Nuala said quietly.
Breanna shook her head. “He’ll never be that.”
“Never is a long time. Things can change.”
“Not that much.”
“We may need his help. He may need ours. The family is uneasy about the things that are happening in the eastern villages. Harsh words are being said about witches, and that has the elders worried, too. Some of our cousins will be coming for the Summer Solstice — and they may be staying for quite some time.”
Breanna turned to look at her grandmother — the gray that streaked the dark hair, the lines that accented a strong face. “Are you worried?”
Nuala remained silent. Then, “Yes, I’m worried. I dream of water that turns dark from the gore spilled into it. Keely has had a couple of nightmares recently about trees that weep blood. What about you, Breanna? What have your dreams carried in them?”
“Wind that turns black, becomes filled with wings and fangs. And everything it touches dies.” Remembering those dreams made her shiver.
Nuala nodded. “So, you see, I have reason to be worried. And the Small Folk have told me that the Fae have been skulking about lately.”
Breanna shrugged, but her voice had a bite to it. “The Fae come and go as they please and don’t care whose land they use to do it.” Not that she’d actually seen any of the Fair Folk. Well, perhaps once, when she was still a girl and had snuck out of the house one restless summer night to take a walk. But those riders she’d glimpsed at a distance in the moonlight could have been anyone.
“They’ve never questioned the Small Folk before, never paid any attention to anything beyond themselves,” Nuala said.
Breanna frowned. “What would they