Page 122 of The Choice


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Water towered and spilled from the fountain, and though the air held a lingering chill, flowers thrived.

Bollocks sent a longing look toward the river—a favorite for his swims—but walked with Breen toward the massive doors of the castle. When they opened, Minga stood in brown leggings and a white tunic belted in copper to greet them.

“Welcome, Taoiseach. Breen and Mahon.” She took both Breen’s hands, kissed her cheeks. “The air runs cool yet. You’ll want a fire. And welcome to you as well.” She stroked a hand over Bollocks. “Tarryn mediates a minor disagreement but shouldn’t be much longer. Your rooms are ready whenever you want them.”

Even as she spoke, a young elf rushed over to take Breen’s bag, then blurred away up the central stairs with it.

“I have some duties to see to and need Mahon for the first of them.” Keegan turned to Breen. “We’ll sup with my mother tonight, a quiet meal, thank the gods.”

“All right. Is there anything I should do?”

“There will be. If you’d stay close, I’ll find you when you’re needed. Mahon.”

When they walked off, Minga smiled. “He’s not one for wasting time. Come, I’ll take you up. You’ll have some tea and get settled. And there’ll be a biscuit for you, of course.”

The wordbiscuitsent Bollocks’s tail ticktocking.

“And how are Aisling and the boys? I know Tarryn’s counting the days until she can see them all again.”

“They’re great. Morena’s teaching them falconry. Well, not Kelly, who somehow gets more adorable every day.”

They started up the stairs, a grand focus of the entrance hall, and one, Breen knew, that became a high stone platform in times of battle and defense.

“And your family?”

“All well,” Minga told her, “I’m grateful to say. It’s a quiet time, for now, this edge between winter and spring. And Marco? I’ll tell you there was deep disappointment he wouldn’t visit with you, especially in the kitchens.”

“He’s pledged.”

“Ah, I’d heard this! To Brian Kelly—such a good man, is Brian. When he does visit again, we’ll have a celebration.”

She climbed beyond the wing where Breen and Marco had stayed on their first visit and continued up to the chambers of the taoiseach.

“Brigid asked to tend to you again. I thought you’d enjoy that.”

“Yes, thanks. I’d like to see her again.”

Minga opened the door. “And I see she’s already got the fire going and some food and drink. As I see you’ve already got a visitor.”

“I couldn’t wait.” Laughing, Kiara ran forward to hug Breen. “I saw the dragons and came right up. Please say you don’t mind.”

She had her mother’s coloring, the deep golden skin, the thick black hair. But in place of Minga’s steady dignity, an infectious cheer lived in Kiara.

“I more than don’t mind. I’m so happy to see you.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. Don’t talk the ears off the sides of her head, Kiara.”

“But I have so much to say!” Laughing again, Kiara knelt right down to hug Bollocks. “Oh, you’re bigger, aren’t you? And with the same sweet face. I’ve been helping tend to the littles, so I’m in my rough clothes, as I didn’t take time to change.”

The rough, on Kiara’s scale, equaled plum-colored trousers with matching boots and a flowing lavender shirt. Gold drops dangled from her ears.

“You look wonderful.” Nothing less than the truth. “I love your hair that way.”

“Do you?” She skimmed a hand over the multitude of narrow braids spanning the crown of her head before they exploded into a curling cloud. “I wanted to try something new.”

“It’s gorgeous. Come, sit down, have tea with me. And spill some.”

No one had better castle and village gossip than Minga’s daughter.

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