“Drink it,” Maigdeann told him, her voice gentle, but stern.
“I’m drinking,” he replied, taking another sip. “It’s not going to put me to sleep again, is it?” He was tired of sleeping.
“No,” his sister answered. “It’s the antidote. But you’ll have to keep taking it until the next full moon.”
Bran sighed, then took another sip. “And when’s that?” He had no idea how long he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness.
“Another ten days.”
He took another sip, and this time Maigdeann took away her hands, letting him hold the cup on his own. Thankfully, he wasableto hold it on his own. “And how long have I been here?”
The look his sister gave him was pitying. “A fortnight.”
“Lugh damn it.”
“Don’t curse the gods, Bran,” Maigdeann chided him.
“I’ll stop cursing them when they stop cursing me,” Bran retorted.
Maigdeann shook her head, her pale seafoam cloud of hair rippling. “They’re cursing you because you curse them,” she replied. “The gods know what they’re doing.”
Bran snorted, but kept his skepticism to himself. He didn’t disbelieve, exactly, but he didn’t share his sister’s more full devotion to the gods of their people—it was in their natures, he supposed, since as finfolk, Maigdeann was Sidhe, whereas Bran, a boobrie, was Sluagh. It was the Sluagh in him that made himpush back, question the rules, and refuse to be bound by the social niceties that so bothered his sister.
Not that Maigdeann was particularly sanctimonious—especially for a Sidhe.
The distinguishing feature of Bran’s family was their mixed nature—Cairn was Sluagh, but his wife, Gaotha nì A’Mhuir, was Sidhe. Their children were half-and-half, born of the elements that made up their parents in different combinations. Cairn mac Darach was a wight, his magic tied to the earth, water, and the grave, while Gaotha, elegant and ethereal, was a white lady, her essence that of the air and life.
Maigdeann was finfolk, what some humans called a mermaid, although their fanciful drawings of naked women with fish tails were not particularly accurate to Maigdeann’s physiology. A water elemental, Maigdeann was also a healer, and her water-garden held dozens of healing herbs that she and their father used to make teas, poultices, and tinctures. Bran couldn’t help but think that Jamie would enjoy learning about them, given the man’s fascination with spells and recipes.
Bran himself was a mix of water and air, his boobrie form that of a massive predatory sea-bird. That Jamie would likely term a monster, if he ever saw it. Unlike the finfolk—or wights or white folk—boobrie were shape-shifters, and Bran and his brother Iolair could choose bird, human, boobrie, or fae form. The rest of the family were wights or white folk, except for Iasg, another finfolk, who herded the slow and lumbering, if stupidly affectionate,crodh mara.
Bran took another mouthful of tea. “Maigs, did you ever question your threadbond with Sian?”
Maigdeann was the only other of Bran’s siblings to have a threadbond—when Bran had been born with one, as well, it had been a surprise, and the Wyrthings had spent many days, or soIolair had told him—debating whether having two threadbound in the same family was a good omen or a bad one.
Gaotha had always told him that it was a blessing, a gift from the gods. Bran wasn’t so sure—although he’d spent so long viewing his bond to Jamie as a curse, the fact that he was now uncertain was itself a little unsettling.
Sian nì Seòl, Maigdeann’s bondmate and wife, was a kelpie. Like Iolair and Bran, Sian was a shape-shifter, able to take the form of a woman, a horse, a fae, or her full kelpie form, with sharp teeth and front hooves, and a writhing scaled tail. Bran had always thought Sian was particularly striking in her fae form, with her heavy dark green-black braids, dark-skinned hands, and scaled legs and webbed feet. She preferred the water to the land, and rarely came to the Court of Shades from their home on the water’s edge.
Maigdeann hummed softly, the sound slightly hypnotic, and Bran frowned. “I’d like an answer, Maigs. Not to be lulled to sleep.”
His sister sighed, her fingers toying with the edge of the fabric on her finned legs. “All threadbonds are different, Bran.”
“I know that, Maigs. But did you never wish to be free of it?” Bran wasn’t sure he wanted to be free of his anymore, either, but he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the possibility completely, particularly because he didn’t think Jamie would take too kindly to the idea of being tied to a monster. Because even if Bran didn’t think of himself as such, he knew Jamie would.
“Of course not,” his sister answered. “Sian and I have always known we belong to each other.” Maigdeann studied him, her blue-teal eyes sharp. “You know this would all be much easier—and less painful for you—if you would just complete the bond.”
Bran sighed, letting the teacup come to rest on his thighs, leaning back against the stacked pillows. “Aye, but you never hadto explain to Sian what you were. What a threadbond was. You both always justknew.”
Maigdeann rubbed a hand on his blanket-covered leg. “Aye, that’s true. We knew we were Fated to be together—although we dinna always know what form that would take.” Maigdeann smiled at the thought of her bondmate and wife. “And we certainly didn’t expect Bhàth.” Bhàth mac Creach was a fideal, Sian and Maigdeann’s husband. Bhàth was the other reason Maigdeann and Sian lived at the water’s edge. While both finfolk and kelpie could move easily on land, the fideal needed to stay near water—Bhàth could leave the shore for a short while, but his scaled skin would become dry quickly, so they preferred to stay near the water, even though their children, Mara and Sìolaidh, were finfolk and kelpie, and could—like their mothers—leave the water for an extended period of time.
Bran actually liked the fact that Maigdeann didn’t live in the Court—it gave him an excuse to leave it himself, to fly out over the crashing waves. Boobrie may have been creatures of the air first, but they were also creatures of water, chasing the waves and the fish within them. Bran missed the sea, and wondered when he’d be strong enough to go back, to feel the salt wind in his feathers, the taste of fish so fresh it was still thrashing against his tongue.
“Bhàth is different,” Bran pointed out. The fideal wasn’t a part of the threadbond shared by Maigdeann and Sian. “You bothchoseBhàth.”
A part of him was in fact jealous of his sister’s husband—not because he was particularly interested in Bhàth, but because the fideal was a choice, someone Maigdeann had fallen in love with without the interference of the threads of Fate.
And yes, Bran knew full well that the Wyrthings would answer that all were tied with the threads of Fate, but what he had with Jamie—and what his sister had with Sian—wasdifferent. It wasn’t the ordinary Fate of two people meeting, whether in friendship or romance. It was an obligation, a weight that had been tied to their chests that they had no choice but to bear.