Page 49 of Cathmoir's Sons

That’s because Rachel spends most of her time with people who are only questionably mortal.

“Didn’t Darwin’s grandfather die a few years ago?” I ask, stretching my throbbing brain to remember people close to Rachel who have passed.

Rachel nods. “Fae rituals are way different. No singing. A little chanting.”

I wince. The idea of chanting right now makes my ears ache psychosomatically. I crack the second water bottle and begin to chug it down.

The clatter of more trays on the scarred wood of the round table makes me wince again and glare at Teddy and Gabe as they sit on Rachel’s far side.

“All okay, Kells?” Teddy asks.

I nod sourly. “Any chance you’re packing a hangover potion?” I ask.

Teddy’s face creases. “Sorry, mate. I should have brought more. I just gave away my last one to Professor Tang.”

I wave off her apology. I should have stocked up myself.

Gabe holds his hand out to me, but Teddy pushes it down.

“You can’t even walk a straight line this morning,” she says. “You’re more likely to give her an aneurysm than heal her hangover.”

Gabe giggles.Giggles. He sounds just like Honour. No, definitely not letting him do magic on me until he’s sober.

Teddy shakes her head at him. “You’re gonna regret that last bottle of wine so hard in twenty minutes when Charlie shows up with the kids.”

Gabe just continues to laugh.

“How are the three cutest babies in the world?” I ask before cracking open the third bottle of water.

“Mmm.” Teddy takes a bite of eggs on toast and washes it down with tea that looks murkier than the Mississippi River. “I anticipate chaos. Callan and the Holly King babysat last night. Twins’ll either have learned a number of new words in a language none of us speak or how to summon a Fyre Serpent. It’s a toss-up when we leave them with elder fae.”

I chuckle, then rub my temples. Damn, Gabe’s not the only one regretting that last bottle of wine.

“So,” Teddy says. “Winter Study’s starting.”

I nod. “My first class is Monday.”

“Which means you’re free for dinner Sunday.”

Iam, but . . .

“Sure,” I say warily.

“Good,” Teddy says firmly. “See you for drinks at six. We’ll probably be at Thistlemist. I’ll text if we’re somewhere else. Dress casual.”

I squint at her. “Teddy?—”

She squints back at me.

I shut my mouth. Even when she’s not very pregnant, annoying the Teddy is a bad idea.

“Bring one ofthem,” she says, before sipping more of her muddy tea.

My squint turns into a glare. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“’Course not. Bring Jane, too.”

That I can do.

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