What on Eile had just happened? He recalled returning home from the perimeter check only to find the barn ablaze with light and music. He had known the travelers wanted to host a Solstice celebration, but the biggest surprise had been seeing Seren dancing. At first, Brenn had felt slight irritation. Had he not asked her and Rori to stay to the house until he returned? But then, the sheer joy radiating from her was intoxicating. For what seemed like an age, he stood in the doorway, staring disbelievingly at the timid girl who had always guarded her emotions so well.
But there she was, flying across the ground with reckless abandon, moving to the music as if she had been born from the melody itself. Yes, he had been surprised, even more so when she sighted him, her golden brown eyes gleaming. She had marched over, radiating confidence and pure delight, to pull him into the dance with her. He’d been so mesmerized, he had followed without a second thought. And then, it was just the two of them and the music. Everyone and everything else just faded away, including the lingering anger, fear and darkness that had been clinging to him since the mistletoe harvest the day before. Every word spoken by Baird and Uscias wiped clean and replaced with Seren’s radiance. And she had been radiant, more than she’d ever been before. She had drawn him in, even as he’d tried to retreat within himself. She had chased after him, a beacon among shadows, and erased the cold darkness, entreating him to come to her light so that he might share in her joy and shake off his melancholy.
Even now, as Brenn stared absentmindedly into the darkness, he curled his fingers into a fist. They had been so cold earlier, and not just because of the winter night. His confrontation with the Druid and his new apprentice the day before had called forth the faeduhn glamour once more, like a breeze stirring new flame from diminishing coals. And that small blaze had threatened to leap forth and engulf everything in its path. But not anymore, now that Seren had entered into his life. He feared the ever growing faeduhn darkness, and he always would, but it seemed every time it threatened to overtake him, Seren would outstretch her hand and force it back into its cage. It was still there, a cold speck lodged deep within his soul, but it was dormant once again. She had done something to staunch its unnatural growth. And that realization alone thrilled and terrified Brennon. He did not want to believe it; would not dare to hope. But he couldn’t deny the woman, with her glamour or her mere beauty of spirit, had put a stopper on the well of darkness within him.
Brenn closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Suddenly, the barn was too much for him. Too many sounds and smells and too much heat. His skin was burning, and his mind was focused on only one thing: he had to find Seren. He had to find her and draw her to him once again, to hold her close before the wonderful feeling faded away. To kiss her long and deep, stealing her breath away, before he lost his nerve. To do what he had been wanting to do for weeks now, something he denied himself because of what he was, of what he was slowly becoming. But Seren’s warmth had burned the cold darkness away, and he would take advantage of his sudden bravado while he had the chance.
Brenn charged out into the night, the heat clinging to his skin cooled by the crisp air. He drew in long, deep breaths, feeling wild and free for the first time in ages. He headed straight for the trail and lunged up the hill at a brisk pace, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The wolfhounds greeted him at the top, their tails wagging and some of them whining in excitement at seeing their master. He brushed past them, aiming for the door.
Inside the great room, all was dark except for a faint red glow emanating from the fireplace.
“Seren,” he said aloud, his voice coarse and deep.
There was no answer. Nothing stirred, not even a wisp of night wind creeping in through a cracked window. Wondering if Seren had bypassed the house and went elsewhere, Brenn turned to resume his search outside. If it took him all night, he would find her. He was about to pull the door back open when a faint, grumpy meow caught his attention. Nola. He turned his head and cocked it to the side, gazing up onto the dark balcony hallway above. Had Seren gone to bed already? He had to know for sure. Turning on his heel, he headed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Her door was open, but the room was cold and dark. Brenn was about to change his mind again when a loud purring emanated from the middle of the room. Seren must be in bed, after all. Without a second thought, he bypassed the threshold and immediately sucked in a breath. The room was ice cold and the fireplace a black pit. Brenn narrowed his eyes and trained them on the bed. Just enough clouds had parted above to allow a sliver of pale moonlight to pour in between the curtains. Seren was wearing the same dress and shift she’d worn to the Solstice Eve gathering in the barn. Although she had managed to throw most of the quilt over her legs and waist, Brenn knew she couldn’t be very warm.
Drawing in a deep breath through his nose, he tamped down his desire to draw her into his arms and instead headed toward the fire place. The time out in the open air had taken the edge off his single-minded goal and in a small way, he was glad of it. Did he really think he could march in here and force himself on her? Brenn reached for a log, tossing it into the cold ashes, then shivered as a terrible thought wormed its way into his conscious. He had thought Seren’s essence had chased away some of the darkness, but maybe it was the exact opposite. Perhaps the reason he had wanted to kiss her so badly was because the faeduhn magic was settling in, enticing him to do something that would, in the long run, hurt Seren. And perhaps, that was why he found it harder to resist that temptation now.
It isn’t wrong to want this woman, a small voice inside of him said, but, in a way, it is wrong to forget you cannot have her. Would you satisfy your own desires at the risk of her heart and soul?
Brenn clenched his teeth so hard his jaw began to ache. No, he told himself, no. I will not risk her goodness for a moment of happiness on my account.
Drawing on a little of his glamour, his good glamour, Brenn set the neatly piled logs aflame, waiting as the fire caught and spread, filling the room with warm, cheerful light. Once again he was reminded of Seren’s joy and beauty back in the barn. That craving to touch her, to be near her, to kiss her, burned in his heart again, but he fought it. He wasn’t entirely convinced it was the faeduhn glamour driving him, but at least now he was lucid enough to practice a little caution.
Abruptly, Brenn stood up and turned to face the bed. He could see Seren a little better now with the fire burning brightly in the hearth. Her softly curling hair, in tones of deep brown and russet, spread out like a cloud upon the pillow. Her head was angled to the side, her dark lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, her beautiful copper-hued skin appearing soft and smooth.
Unable to help himself, he reached down a hand to brush away a stray curl, relief flooding over him when he realized her skin was warm to the touch. After some time, Brenn reluctantly pulled his fingers away. He turned and walked to the door, shutting it gently behind him. It felt like closing himself off from the sun after a long, harsh winter. He wanted to stay beside her, to make sure she remained warm and safe, but the past few days’ trials were starting to wear on him.
Before going to bed, he went down into the great room and got another fire going in the large fireplace. Rori was still down in the barn. He had seen the boy perched atop the hay bales before becoming wholly wrapped up in Seren’s presence. His nephew would either crawl back up to the house later, or, more likely, spend the night in the barn with the pile of hay as his bed. Brenn allowed himself a small grin. He wasn’t worried about the travelers making off in the night with his nephew any longer. They were good people, and he almost wished they were staying for more than one night.
Glancing out the window one last time, Brenn imagined the party was still going strong, the faint notes of a joyous tune drifting through the brightly lit barn door and floating up to the main house. If he’d had the energy, and if Seren was still down there, he would have gone back.
Rubbing his hands over his eyes, Brenn headed once
again to the stair case and climbed to the second floor. His room was just as empty and cold as Seren’s had been. After getting a fire going, he strode over to the chair, picking up the saddle bags he’d left there the night before. When something fell from an open pocket, he paused. Furrowing his brow, Brenn bent down and picked it up, immediately recognizing the item. It was one of the wooden statues he’d purchased from the woman in town, the woman who turned out to be Grandmother Peig, wrapped in paper and garnished with a sprig of holly. Grinning, he set it down carefully on his bed and fished for the other one. He moved to set the second package next to the first one when something resting on his pillow caught his attention. Something also wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon.
Brenn arched his eyebrows and sat on the edge of the mattress, drawing the item into his lap. It had no name signed to it, but he knew who it was from before he even opened it. Feeling that warm tingling sensation in his heart again, he gently tugged the ribbon away and folded back the paper. Upon seeing the masterfully woven item within, Brenn smiled brightly. With careful, reverent fingers, he drew the scarf out, unfolding it to its full length. The width was broad and the weave just loose enough to allow the scarf to pool softly in his hands. He recognized the individual yarn from the large collection he had gifted to Seren, and when he set the paper and ribbon aside, he noticed the blended colors of blue, grey and russet matched the pattern of his family tartan almost perfectly. The gift was both heartfelt and practical.
Brenn drew the scarf up and carefully wrapped it around his neck. After three passes, he stopped and waited as the wool warmed his skin. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the sensation and took deep, soothing breaths. The scarf smelled faintly of Seren, and its beauty reminded him of her. Standing up, Brenn removed the scarf and carried it to the chest at the foot of his bed. It was something to be treasured, this gift of Seren’s, and he would put it somewhere where it would be safe.
Standing back up, Brenn reached for the two parcels he’d purchased at the Solstice Faire. Since Seren had already delivered her gift, he decided he ought to do the same. After carefully unwrapping the doe and rooster, he made his way down the hall, first visiting Rori’s room and leaving his little rooster statue on the windowsill, then stopping by Seren’s chamber on his way back. As silently as he could, he opened the door and crept in. She was still fast asleep, her fire burning down a little lower than before. Without lingering too long, he strode to the small chest beside her bed and set the statue down, hoping she might see it first thing in the morning.
Having made his deliveries, Brenn headed back to his own room, the weariness from earlier growing heavier behind his eyes. He managed to make it to the edge of his bed, removing his clothing before collapsing onto the mattress and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
All throughout the remainder of the night, Brenn dreamed of summer evenings and cool, crisp autumn mornings spent with Seren and Rori. He was laughing and smiling in all the scenes, and the dark, faeduhn glamour he’d accumulated over the years with the Morrigan had been wiped clean.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Counsel
Seren woke up groggy the next morning with a terrible headache. As she lay in bed, waiting for the pain to cease its pounding against her skull, she scoured her mind, looking for memories from the night before. All she could recall was the exhilarating rush of music flowing through her veins, and the pure delight which had accompanied it, but very little else. Sighing and giving the task up, she rolled over and paused as something on the nightstand caught her eye. She may have forgotten many of the events of the night before, but the exquisitely carved statue of a young deer beside her candle was a new addition to her small room.
Sitting up carefully, she reached out a hand and trailed her fingers over the fine details and smoothly sanded hazel wood. In her opinion, the artist had done an excellent job capturing the perfect image of a doe. Seren followed the smooth curve of the animal’s neck and ran her fingertips down the delicate legs. A shiver shuddered through her as the wild doe inside of her pranced, wanting desperately to be set free. It had been a long time since she last took that form and although it had only happened a few times in her life, she was eager to experience the freedom of running through the forest once again. Biting her lip, Seren forced down her eager magic. She could not transform, not yet. Her wild glamour would just have to wait.
Turning her attention back to the statue, Seren wondered where it had come from. Two people, besides her, had access to the house, but only one of them could have given her this gift. Brennon. As soon as the realization hit her, the memories from the day before came flooding back: finishing Brenn’s scarf and wrapping it and Rori’s carefully before placing them in their rooms, becoming ensorcelled by the music drifting up from the barn, joining the traveling merchant family in their Solstice celebration, seeing Brenn in the doorway and pulling him into a dance, her healing glamour flaring and wrapping around the darkness she’d sensed in Brenn until the edges melted away and it was forced to retreat, Brenn leaning down to kiss her …
Seren shivered and then felt heat rising in her cheeks. She had gone and done what she had promised herself she would never do again. She had displayed her rare glamour for all the world to see. Had she passed out after all of that? Had Brenn, once again, carried her back to the house where she could rest? Did he now know her secret? Seren glanced down and noticed she was wearing her wrinkled clothes from the night before. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to think around the headache. After the dance and almost kiss from Brenn, she had fled.
Fresh embarrassment washed over her then, and she wondered if it would’ve been worse to just stay and let the night run its course. At least then she’d have a lovely memory to hold onto. But no, she had run away. She was always running away. Perhaps someday, she told herself, you will find the courage to stand your ground. Her doe, now mostly nestled against her internal well of glamour, gave a slight shiver. Seren released a snort. When half of her existence consisted of a timid prey animal, it was no surprise she was always running.
Taking a deep breath, Seren pushed aside her troubled musings and gave the beautiful wood carving of the doe one last appreciative glance before rising up out of bed. Whether she had given away the secret of her healing glamour or not, she could not hide up in this room forever.
Seren quickly made her bed, changed into a fresh set of clothes and brushed back her hair. Although she was nervous to face Brennon again, she would do so with her head held high. To her relief, and she couldn’t help but notice, disappointment, Brenn wasn’t downstairs when she finally made her way into the great room. Instead, she found Rori, his fingers running over a carving similar to hers. In this case, the wood was red, and the animal was a rooster. Seren smiled brightly. Brenn had known just what to get each of them for the Solstice.
“Seren, is that you?” Rori asked, his voice hopeful.
He set his rooster down carefully on the desk next to their pile of books and leapt out of the chair, feeling his way across the room until he was in front of her. Somehow, he knew just where to stop.
“Where did you go last night?”
Seren searched her still-foggy memories, then shrugged and answered him, “I came back here. I was so tired from the dancing. I barely managed to deliver your Solstice gift before collapsing onto my bed. Did you get it?”
Rori beamed then turned on his heel and scurried back to the chair he had vacated, carefully avoiding the wolfhounds scattered over the floor as they napped. The boy pulled the scarf out from the corner of his little nest and held it out for her to see.
“Tell me what color it is!” he exclaimed, as he wrapped it snuggly around his neck.
The loving way he cradled the woven garment made Seren want to cry. Was it possible for her heart to feel any more love for this boy?
She walked over to him, schooling her features. Even though he couldn’t see her, he would know her mood. He always did.
Rori blinked up at her, his eyes not quite landing on her face. “Why?”
Seren lifted a hand and gently ran her fingers through his longish hair, pulling him in for a slight hug as she did so. “Because you have a little bit of each of those colors in your hair.”
Rori reached up and fingered a strand. “I thought I had blond hair,” he remarked.
“You do,” Seren agreed, “but beneath, it is a little bit darker.”
Rori shrugged and hugged Seren around the waist, resting his head against her ribs. “I love my gift. Thank you.”
Seren only had a few moments to enjoy his affection before he was darting off to get his Solstice gift for her. He came back with a braided cord of that flax he had been turning into bowstring, only the one he offered her was worked into a bracelet with a few beads strung on it.
“I made it myself,” he said proudly. “Uncle Brenn helped me with the beads. They are carved from mistletoe, and each bead has a letter in your name stamped on it.”
Seren clutched the bracelet as if it might fly away. Carefully, she turned the cord in a circle, noting each letter. Although she could not read as well as Brenn, she had made great progress since she and Rori started their lessons those few months ago.
“Oh, Rori,” she finally said softly, slipping the bracelet over her hand and tugging the smaller strings to tighten it, “I love it.”
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