Cormac was upright in an instant. “Aoife? What is it? What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t answer. Her hand flew to her chest, fingers pressing hard as though she could hold herself together.
The pressure built… and was gone.
Aoife gasped for breath.
The faint tightness that had lived in her chest since the day she entered this estate, so constant she had long since stopped noticing it, was simply… gone.
Cormac’s hand hovered near her shoulder. “Aoife?”
She smiled.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said softly.
Before he could question it, she leaned forward and kissed him.
This time there was no hesitation, no shadow lingering beneath the moment. Warmth and breath and the steady certainty of him.
When she drew back, her forehead resting lightly against his, she let out a slow breath.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
Chapter 33
The bushes were heavy with crowberries.
Aoife reached into the tangle of branches, careful of the thorns, and withdrew her hand slowly, a small cluster of dark fruit resting in her palm. She turned them in the light, checking for ripeness before popping one into her mouth.
A small voice piped up behind her.
“More please.”
Aoife turned. Bríd stood a few paces away, her mouth already stained a deep purple, her grin wide and unapologetic. Beside her, Tadhg was worse; his hands, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose were smeared with berry juice.
Aoife laughed. “I see you’ve both been very patient.”
Tadhg beamed at her, holding up his hands as though to show off the evidence.
Cormac stepped through the trees, a bundle of pale green in his hand.
“Mistletoe,” he announced, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
“It was a dangerous undertaking,” he added solemnly. “You should take it as proof of how much I love you.”
Aoife smiled, stepping toward him. “I’m sure I should.”
She leaned forward and kissed him.
Cormac shifted the mistletoe to one hand. “We should head back, or it’ll be dark before we get home.”
“I’ll race you!” Bríd shouted.
Before Aoife could answer, the girl darted forward, and in the space of a breath, her form shifted. Limbs lengthened, spine arched, and where Bríd had stood a moment before, a sleek Athraith no larger than a pony bounded through the trees.
“Bríd—” Aoife started. The girl was already gone.
Tadhg’s face crumpled.
