Cormac shook his head. “No. I came straight here.”
Warmth unfurled in her chest.
“Oh.” She turned away quickly to hide her smile. “Well… they’re happy. He built them a small house by the river.”
Cormac nodded. “Have you seen my parents? Are they all right?”
“Riona was here a few days ago.”
Cormac gave a relieved smile.
“They’re well. Everyone is. The murreroot harvest was better than we’ve had in years.”
Cormac stopped, turning to her. “How?”
“We started again, with the few plants that survived the blight,” Aoife explained. “You’ll have to ask Ultán if you want all the details.”
“He’s still managing the estate?”
“Not just the estate, the whole county. The shipments still go out as they always have; the records are kept the same way.”A faint smile touched her mouth. “As far as anyone beyond the estate is concerned, Lord Halverton is still in charge.”
Cormac huffed a quiet breath. “And no one’s questioned it?”
“Not yet. I think they’re used to not seeing him.” She shrugged lightly. “And Ultán’s careful.”
They walked a few steps in silence, the orchard thinning around them. Cormac opened his mouth several times to speak, but kept changing his mind. Finally, he settled on, “How is your family?”
Aoife smiled and shook her head. “They’re well. Eoin tells me Mrs Harrow comes over for dinner almost every day.”
Cormac chuckled. “What does he think about that?”
“Mrs Harrow is good with him.” Despite her age, the former housekeeper had boundless energy for Eoin’s antics and endless patience for Maire’s questions. She shone when she was with the children, and for the first time Aoife could imagine Halverton as a child, listening rapt to Mrs Harrow’s every word. It wasn’t hard now to understand why she had been so forgiving of him. She’d known the small boy with endless potential he had once been. It could be hard to see the person standing in front of you when you still saw the child they once were.
Cormac stood in front of her, and it wasn’t hard to see the man, not the boy she once knew. He’d changed while he was away; he looked older, more rugged, stronger. He wasn’t just the friend she’d climbed trees with; he hadn’t been for a long time, and she found it hard to say when that had changed.
They reached the old bench beneath the apple tree and sat next to each other, a tiny distance between them now, and Aoife longed to close it.
For a while, neither spoke. Aoife’s heart raced. She needed to speak before she burst.
“What’s the Otherworld like?” Aoife asked, only to stop herself from saying other, more vulnerable words.
Cormac shook his head slightly.
“It’s hard to describe, at least in human terms.”
She studied his face, relieved to find he had not learned to lie while he was away.
“Did it help?”
He nodded slowly.
“It helped me understand what I am.” His voice was quiet now. “And where I want to be.”
When he said it, he looked directly at her.
The weight of his gaze made her chest tighten.
The uncertainty stirred in her again. Would he see the changes in her? The habits she hadn’t shaken? The pieces of Lady Eva that still lingered beneath her skin?
