Page 86 of Threadbound

The trow—whom Bran deeply regretted not killing—had said he was looking for a humanwitch. As far as Bran could tell, Jamie didn’t have a lick of magic beyond that shared by every living thing. Bran didn’t know if the trow had made an assumption, if the Sidhe King had been misinformed, or whether there was more to Jamie than even Jamie knew, because Bran was confident that Jamie would not have hidden having magical ability from Bran. Not once he knew what Bran was.

Bran supposed it was hypothetically possible that this was a long game, that Jamie had known what Bran was all along and strung along an elaborate fiction of his own innocence in an attempt to gain Bran’s trust and drawn the fae into his debt. But the whole idea feltwrong. And while Bran was more than aware that his instincts—particularly when it came to magic—were unreliable, he just couldn’t imagine Jamie having that much guile and successfully hiding it.

If anything, in their odd relationship, Bran was the liar.

It wasn’t fair, what Bran had done to Jamie. Disrupting his life, putting him at risk, asking him—without actually asking—to give up time, money, and energy, to say nothing of having to reframe his whole understanding of the world. He was lost in the mire of these thoughts, staring out the window at the Nimh Coille, when Cairn mac Darach entered the room.

Bran didn’t acknowledge his father’s presence.

After a pause, Cairn spoke. “He is choosing this, Bran.” Cairn’s voice was gentle.

“He doesna understand what it is he’s choosing,” Bran countered, disliking the petulance in his own voice. It was difficult not to act like a child when speaking to his father—the approximately twelve centuries of age difference between them would ensure that even when Bran had passed his own fifth century, and almost twenty-eight years was not nearly enough for Bran to pretend to maturity when facing Cairn.

“He understands enough,” came the calm response. “And, I dare say, more than you give him credit for.”

Bran grimaced at his father. “Jamie knows very little of our world,” he observed.

Cairn’s smile was… something. Mysterious? Mischievous? Bran wasn’t completely sure, and it unsettled him.

“Jamie knows what’s important,” came the reply.

Bran’s brow furrowed. “And what, exactly,isimportant,Athair?” he asked wryly.

Cairn’s smile broadened. “That all depends on who you are,” he responded cryptically.

Bran couldn’t help rolling his green eyes. His father did love his riddles. “So what’s important to Jamie, then?” he pressed.

“Not being Jamie, I canna tell you that,” Cairn responded. But before Bran could express his frustration with that answer, Cairn continued. “But I imagine that you rank fairly highly.”

That wasn’t what Bran was expecting. “Why do you say that?”

Cairn raised eyebrows that were only a slightly darker grey than his stony skin. “He is here,” Cairn answered. “And he intends to complete the threadbond, despite your stubborn refusal to ask or explain it to him—because he understands that this could help you.”

It was a nice thought—and one Bran wanted to believe was true. He didn’tactuallybelieve it, of course. But he wanted to.“He agreed to it,” Bran informed his father, “because Darach mac Craobh-na-Beatha sent a trow to kill him, and the Lugh-cursed creature killed the wrong big, blond human. Jamie is doing this to save himself, too.”

Bran couldn’t read the expression in his father’s eyes. “I think,” Cairn said softly, “that he is here much more for you than himself.”

Bran wasn’t sure what to do with that—a very significant part of him wanted Cairn to be right. Another part of him was afraid that the care Jamie showed him was kindness rather than affection. Rather than something more. Because the more time Bran spent with his own thoughts, the clearer it became to him that it would be so, so very simple to fall in love with Jamie Weaver.

Very simple, and also very dangerous. Dangerous for Bran, but even moreso for Jamie. And that was the real reason Bran continued to resist what was starting to feel inevitable. And it was why he promised himself that he wasn’t going to evertellJamie, no matter how deep his own emotions grew.

And, Bran knew, the threadbinding itself had the potential to very much strengthen their connection. Or enable them to move on with their separate lives. Bran was a little bit chagrined at the strength of the pang that thought sent through him. But, he reminded himself firmly, if that was what Jamie wanted, Bran would respect that choice.

Mostly. As long as he was confident that Jamie was safe. Bran would keep his distance, of course—and he would actually stay hidden this time. No accepting offered gifts of crackers. After all, it wasn’t like Bran could become any more indebted to Jamie, so pesky things like the rules of decorum and hospitality no longer really applied.

But despite his better judgment, Bran couldn’t help but hope for more than being distant strangers. If he were beingcompletely honest with himself, he wanted a lot more. But he couldn’t let himself hope for that. Keeping Jamie as a friend would have to be good enough.

“Jamie is a good man,” is what Bran said out loud.

“He seems to be,” Cairn replied.

“Not ‘seems,’” Bran corrected. “He is.”

“If you say so.” Cairn’s response was mild. “I havena had the pleasure of really getting to know him.”

It was placating, Bran knew that, but he also understood that his father probably wasn’t going to fully accept Bran’s judgment, given that he’d essentially destroyed his own magic due to stubbornness. He hadn’t exactly demonstrated stellar decision-making, particularly when it came to his own well-being. Bran sighed, but didn’t say anything more.

In three days, the threadbinding would be complete. Perhaps it would stabilize Bran’s magic, or perhaps he had already done irreparable damage from which he would never recover. Perhaps the threadbinding would bring Bran and Jamie closer together, or perhaps it would simply allow them to never speak again. Perhaps it would make Jamie safe, or perhaps it would put him in even more danger.

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