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“Yes.” Breen pressed her fingers to her eyes, then let her hands fall. “Yes, even with everything that’s happened, could happen, I’m happierthan I’ve been for so long. I have so much. You.” Breen reached for Marg’s hand. “I have you. And what’s in me, and what’s in me brings me such joy. But what I did in the Capital this morning—just this morning,” she realized suddenly. “That was reckless. I let what was in me take over. I didn’t control it.”
“What’s needed is needed,” Marg repeated. “Was anyone harmed?”
“No. But—”
“Ah.” Marg held up a finger. “Do you trust me?”
“Completely, in all things.”
“Then trust this. What you have, what you are, couldn’t and won’t bring harm but to the dark, to what threatens others. I know this, as you’re my blood. You’re from my son.”
“Part of me is from him, from Odran.”
“As part of Eian was. He mistakes you, mistakes thinking he can use that part. It’s that part,mo stór, that will end him. Is this a worry of yours, that you’ll do harm?”
“It wasn’t until this morning. It was like with Toric at the Judgment. Just overwhelming. The heat of it, the strength of it.”
“It frightens you a bit.”
“It does.”
“It should. Power is a wild thing, and turned, consumes the one who wields it. But leashed too tight, it weakens and thins. We’ll practice, and we’ll work, but in the end, you have to find your own way.”
Every knot inside her loosened.
“This is only one of the reasons I missed you. You keep me steady. And the valley. Just coming back to it calms me. The Capital is beautiful and so full of life, but…”
“It’s not home.”
“It’s not home. I’ve seen the South now, and it’s beautiful, lively, and tranquil all at once, but… Oh, I almost forgot. The monument.”
“Sedric and I went to the South two days ago. Keegan sent a falcon to ask me to go, help with the raising of the dolmen, as he couldn’t yet leave the Capital. It’s a beautiful, stark reminder of what was lost and what was defeated.”
“Yes.” Now Breen pushed at her hair. “Maybe I made a mistake and it should have stayed beautiful and stark.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we stood there—Keegan and I—I felt, I saw… something different. Something more.”
“What more did you see?”
“I saw… Could I show you? In the fire?”
Rising, Breen went to the hearth, held out her hands, and waited for Marg to join her.
“I saw this.”
Spring first, with the trees blooming pink and white, the little pool at the leg of the dolmen reflecting the stone and the light, and the fire rising gold. Then blossoms falling to carpet the ground and fruit budding out, growing, ripening, the leaves going red and gold before they fell and the branches stood bare and waiting.
And through all, the fire burned gold.
Marg pressed a hand to her mouth as tears glimmered.
“This you saw?”
“So clearly, Nan. Keegan and I made the fire before we left, and—”
Marg simply turned to her, embraced her. “This was vision born of love and compassion as much as power. This is your father in you, for I believe with all my heart he would have seen the same.”
