Page 20 of Threadbound

He was also trying not to think about the fact that he’d gone ahead and blurted out his full name. Names had power. He knew this. And yet when the half-breed had asked him, he somehow couldn’t stop himself from saying not only his first name, but his patronymic, as well.

And now Jamie Weaver—at least the human had the decency to reciprocate the exchange of names—knew Bran’s name. He was fairly certain Jamie lacked the capacity todoanything with it, but Bran was under no illusions that he was the only fae in Edinburgh. The city was old, and magic ran through its streets like the blood of long-forgotten wars. The crags that loomed over the streets and buildings—old and new alike—held just as much power as the city itself, formed by the magic of wind and earth and water just as the energy of both people and fae had shaped the bricks and stone and mortar of the city.

Not that he expected Jamie knew any other fae, but one never knew whose ears were listening in a city like Edinburgh.

Jamie and the woman from the other day came through the gate, the woman stopping with a set of keys and a grin as she began pulling a chain and padlock through the handles of the gate. “Go on, now. I’ve got this.”

Jamie’s cheeks, Bran noticed, were flushed a slight pink.

“Thanks, Trixie,” he murmured, not meeting either the woman’s eyes or Bran’s. “Um. Trixie, this is Bran. Bran, Trixie.”

The woman held out a hand, a grin on her face. She was pretty enough, Bran supposed, with blue eyes and blonde hair, but he found he preferred the shades of blue and blond on Jamie over hers.

And then he was a bit surprised that he had that preference.

He shook the woman’s hand. “Well met,” he forced himself to say, grateful that at least Jamie hadn’t used his father’s name.

“Pleasure,” Trixie replied with a grin. Then she winked at him. “You boys have fun.”

“Night, Trixie,” Jamie said, his voice sounding strained.

“Bye!” The gate locked, she turned and headed down the street after giving them a wave.

Bran watched her curiously, wondering with a flash of what he told himself wasn’t jealousy about the nature of her relationship with the man standing beside him.

“So,” Jamie said, clearing his throat. “Dinner. What did—What were you thinking?”

Bran turned his attention back to the half-breed, having to tilt his head up to study Jamie’s features, which, he decided, he definitely preferred to the woman’s much smaller, more delicate ones.

The woman’s hair had been cut shorter than Jamie’s, which appeared tousled, almost as though he’d just gotten out of bed. The half-breed ran a hand through the honey-gold strands, his full lower lip caught between his teeth, which explained why his hair looked that way. But his eyes were what Bran found particularly arresting—a sharp, royal blue, the color of a deep highlands loch beneath a summer sky. There was a hint of rose on his nose and cheekbones, probably from the morning runs that Bran often followed him on, winging his way over the city and out to the crags as Jamie’s feet carried him through the streets and up the steep paths that led to Arthur’s Seat.

“What was I thinking about what?” Bran asked.

“Dinner?” Jamie sounded uncertain, and Bran wondered if he should release the half-breed from his invitation.

But although he’d had regrets while waiting for Jamie to come back out of the museum, he now found he no longer had an interest in neglecting his obligations of hospitality. Bran wasn’t sure whether to praise or curse Condatis for that. He supposed time would tell.

“I was hoping you would have a preference,” Bran answered. Although he knew the twists and turns of the city well, he wasn’t particularly familiar with all of the places humans ate. He’d kept to a couple of takeaway places near Jamie’s apartment—pizza and sandwiches and one of the groceries.

“Do you like sushi?” Jamie asked.

“Aye.” Bran liked fish of any kind—it was in his nature, he supposed, as a boobrie. His elements were wind and water, and he loved the brine and salt spray of the ocean. Sometimes he flew out to the harbor and the beaches—leaving Jamie behind, of course—just to clear his lungs by flying over the waves.

Jamie offered a smile, then. “I know a couple good places,” he said. “I—There’s one not far that’s decent, but pretty affordable.”

Bran waved a hand. “I dinna mind the cost,” he replied. He’d made a point of getting a bank to change out some coins for bills after he kept getting funny looks at the grocery. If he went through what he had, he could always make more coins.

Then he saw Jamie’s cheeks coloring again and realized that the offer was less for him and more for the half-breed’s own benefit.

“I offered the invitation,” he said.

Jamie studied him, uncertain. On the one hand, Kanpai was totally worth the extra money, and Bran didn’t seem at all worried about the expense. But on the other, Jamie felt badabout spending someone else’s money, especially since he was hungry.

He supposed he could always pace himself and just have a snack when he got home later.

“Okay. Um, thanks,” Jamie murmured, feeling his cheeks heating. “It’s… d’you mind a walk? It’s about fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Bran reminded himself that humans were in the habit of thanking one another and that the half-breed meant no insult by it. To a fae, a ‘thank you’ was a refusal of reciprocity—gratitude was best expressed in kind, but the words alone were a dismissal of the value of a gift or favor as worthonlywords in return.

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