Page 21 of Threadbound

Then again, perhaps the reason for the human’s blush was that he wasn’t sure hecouldrepay Bran’s hospitality. Not that Bran expected Jamie to buy him an equally-expensive dinner, of course. That wasn’t how reciprocity worked. But there were other ways to show gratitude that were more than words.

But he could hardly expect Jamie to meet the expectations of fae manners. Although Bran could, by the laws of the Court of Shades and of Fate, absolutely demand it.

Instead, Bran offered Jamie a tight-lipped smile. “Lead the way, then.”

Jamie’s hesitant smile returned, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed toward Nicholson Square, keeping his long stride a little narrower than normal to accommodate Bran’s shorter legs.

The smaller man just came up to Jamie’s shoulders—Jamie was tall, and he knew it. Rob, who was six-one, only made it up to his eyeballs. Bran had to be… under five-ten, certainly. It made Jamie’s protective instincts kick in as they threaded their way through the crowds on a Friday evening, wanting to keep anyone else from bumping into him.

In crowds, Jamie always tended to take a few hits to the arms and shoulders—he was used to it, and didn’t really blame people, especially since most of the time, folks apologized. He understood. He took up a lot of space, even though he tried not to.

He felt like Bran was the opposite. Slight and small, the shorter man seemed to slide between people almost as though he had no mass. At the same time, Jamie was almost painfully aware of his presence, as if he were larger than he actually was.

Then again, most people didn’t spare Bran a second glance, something Jamie was having a very hard time understanding, since he couldn’tstoplooking at him. The sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the odd, feathery way his hair fell around his face, the quick motions of his body as he moved through the crowds.

And then Jamie deliberately turned them through the university, moving out of the steady stream of tourists and locals out for a night on the town. They were obviously going to do the same, but for a few minutes, at least, they could find a quieter path.

“So,” Jamie said, hands still in his pockets, eyes focused firmly on the uneven ground under their feet. “What do you do?”

“Do?”

“Y’know. For work. Or are you a student?” Jamie honestly had no idea how old Bran was. He could have been anywhere from about twenty-four to forty-four and Jamie wouldn’t have been surprised.

“I—am a student in many ways,” Bran answered slowly. “Although by your definition I suppose I work for my father.”

If Jamie found his phrasing odd, he didn’t comment. “Like an apprenticeship?”

It wasn’t inaccurate, so Bran agreed. “Aye.” As a Sluagh Prince, Bran’s father was beholden to the whole Court of Shades.Although Bran was the youngest of Cairn’s ten children, he had vowed to protect the Court of Shades like three of his brothers and sisters. They wereNeach-Cogaidh, sworn warriors. Four others had left the Court proper, although they still viewed themselves as Cairn’s children and answered his call when he gave it.

Bran’s closest sister—the third-youngest of Cairn’s children—Maigdeann, worked with their father, since she was a healer of great gifts, serving in the Court of Shades, along with Bran’s sworn warrior siblings, Iolair-Uisge, Puinnsean, and Mochthrath. Mochthrath, the third-oldest, was the only protector of the Court of Shades who was Sidhe, rather than Sluagh. Bran’s mother, Gaotha nì A’Mhuir, was Sidhe, and had left the Sunlit Court to marry Cairn more than a thousand years before. Four of Bran’s siblings were Sluagh—five were Sidhe. Fitting, his mother always said, that they were split in half.

His tenth sibling had already passed into the lands of the dead—the second-oldest, his sister Corraich, who had been killed in a fight with thegeàrd soilleir, the elite guard of the Sidhe. Corraich, too, had been one of theNeach-Cogaidh. It was Corraich’s death ten years ago that had ignited the simmering hostilities between the Sunlit Court and the Court of Shades.

But, more relevant to Jamie’s question, Bran studied the old lore, seeking to find—and master—the spells and magics that would allow them to win the war. Ways to gain strength, ways to bolster power, and ways to kill. If his sister Maigdeann was the healer, Bran was the magus. Which is why it was so important that he not lose his magic. Why he’d been desperate for any way around the threadbond that could very well anchor him to a half-breed who would hamper his magic or his mind.

“What do you do, though?” Jamie asked.

Bran shrugged. “Research.”

And then he watched Jamie’s whole demeanor light up.

“What kind?”

“Family history, partly,” Bran answered, which was true to an extent. “But also methods. My father is… a healer. I study… natural compounds.”

“Herbal medicine?” Bran had no idea why this made Jamie so excited.

“Some of it, aye. But also poisons, hallucinogens, things that would be… less helpful in healing.” Spells they could use for protection, magic that could be used as a means of assault. Not that he was going to try to explain the tactics of fae warfare to the half-breed. At least not over sushi. He also left out things like killing spells and binding traps, figuring Jamie would think him insane at best if he brought up magic.

“Can I ask you about some of them?” Jamie asked eagerly.

Bran blinked. “I—aye, of course.”

“It’s just… I’m working on transcribing some manuscripts, and they have recipes for… potions, tonics, salves. I’m trying to figure out how they work, but they’re old. Very old. And I don’t even know what everythingis, so it’s hard to tell whether or not they work, since I can’t look up the right plants.”

Bran nodded. He was fairly certain his father’s library would probably have the answers Jamie was looking for?—

Perhaps that was how he would convince the half-breed to pass through the Gate. By luring him with books.

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