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Lorcan grunted, but Caitlin beat him to the reply. "I'll hold onto him all night. I'll even lock the door and hide the key, if it helps."
"Right, then let's give Gabriele a little bit more time alone and I'll help Evie get everything prepared." Bram said to Brenna, "Bring the others when they're ready."
Brenna bobbed her head and Bram squeezed Gabriele's shoulder one more time before exiting.
Threading her arm through Killian's, Caitlin turned him toward the door. "I'll take your mate for a short while, Brenna. Take your time and find us when you're ready. We'll be in the private waiting room."
Killian kissed Brenna and Caitlin led her son out the door, Lorcan fast on her heels.
Once in the waiting room, she sat and gestured for Killian and Lorcan to take a seat on either side of her.
Taking a hand of each, she squeezed them and sang a tune, one that spoke to the loss each of them had endured over the years.
However, from that loss, she wanted to forge a better future. Together, she was confident they could.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adrian Conroy sat on the bed of his temporary residence on Stonefire, staring at the letter Caitlin Todd had passed on to him from her son.
The letter from Elsie Day.
If his dragon wasn't still groggy from being drugged quiet, his beast would've demanded that he open the blasted letter and see what the human had to say.
Flicking his thumbnail against one corner of the envelope, he debated what to do. If the female wanted to see him, it would only encourage his dragon to pursue the human.
And for many reasons, Adrian couldn't do that. The least of which was the history between his family and hers. They might live in separate countries in the present—his family in Northern Ireland and hers in England—but the Days and Conroys had been neighbors before the Second World War.
His grandfather had even considered mating one of them before the betrayal.
No, Adrian needed to sever ties, which meant never reading the letter. Going to the kitchen, he lit the gas burner on the cooker and put the envelope to the fire. Once it caught, he tossed it into the sink and watched the flames consume the paper.
Whatever Elsie Day had wanted to tell him wouldn't change his mind.
Or, so he told himself.
Lorcan and Caitlin would be returning to Northcastle the next day. Adrian would join them, return to Northern Ireland, and never have to see the female again.
Because if he was alone with her pretty eyes and curves made to be held close, his fortitude might slip and he'd probably end up kissing her. That meant a mate-claim frenzy.
Which could never happen.
As soon as the flames died, he turned on the tap and washed away the ashes. As the last of them disappeared down the drain, he felt a sense of closure. Elsie Day wasn't to be his. Ever.
~~~
Brenna stood next to her father and brother, with Killian on her other side, and stared at the shroud-clad form of her mother on top of the pyre.
Some said that dragon-shifters had begun cremating their own since the eighteenth century to prevent humans from digging up the bodies for research. But no matter how it had started, the tradition was ingrained into the way of life. Cremating a loved one signaled the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
Caitlin and Lorcan had asked to stay for the ceremony, and Caitlin had been given the task of singing the traditional dirge since Brenna's father couldn't do it, being the mourner. As Caitlin's soprano tones warbled the final notes, Brenna squeezed Killian's hand in hers. It was time.
As the eldest child, she had a duty to fulfill. Brenna released her mate's hand and marched over to Bram, who held an unlit torch. He held it up and said the traditional words, "Sharon Rossi may be departing the earth, but she will forever be a part of our clan, helping to nourish the trees watching over us all."
He flicked on a lighter and the torch soon blazed with life. As Brenna took it, she replied, "I shall also carry on her legacy, through blood and memory."
Since she had cried herself out over the last two days, Brenna took a deep breath and turned toward the pyre with a neutral expression.
She took a second to memorize the moment. The white shroud was embroidered with a large image of the Stonefire crest, which was a dragon clutching a shield and the two pieces of a broken sword. Surrounding the crest were roses, her mother's favorite flower. Every member of the clan had contributed at least one stitch to the design; appearance wasn't the most important. No, sending off a fallen clan member with haphazard designs meant little compared to the sense of clan and togetherness. It didn't matter that her mother had spent time away in Italy. She was Stonefire, always and forever.
