Page 22 of Threadbound

It gave them common ground, however, and as Jamie began to excitedly describe what he was studying, Bran found himself more and more drawn in to the conversation and, if he had to be honest with himself, to Jamie.

And he wasn’t terribly happy about that.

Especially when he started to enjoy himself.

Chapter

Eleven

It was quiet in the Court of Shades, the sun setting and sending filtered light through the branches and boughs that swaddled the halls of the Sluagh. They were creatures of night and shadow, and very few preferred to move about during daylight hours.

But sickness did not concern itself with time of day, and so Cairn mac Darach, son of the Sidhe King and his Sluagh fourth wife, Iteodha nì Dealg, was awake and moving through the whisper-quiet halls.

The King of the Sluagh was dying, and had been for some time, although it was the kind of dying that took eons to actually culminate in death. Cairn was First Healer to the Court of Shades, and it was his duty to keep his king as hale as possible if he could not cure him.

The problem with this, of course, was that it meant Cairn’s own father—Darach mac Craobh-na-Beatha, King of the Sidhe—viewed his younger son as a traitor, never mind the fact that Cairn himself was Sluagh. Cairn also strongly suspected that the source of his uncle’s illness was most likely to be found in the Sunlit Court. If it had not come from the Sidhe King himself,then Cairn thought it had probably been one of Darach’s many sycophants or courtiers.

Cairn also knew full well that if it could be proven that the Sidhe King was responsible for poisoning Cuileann mac Eug, his own half-brother, war was the inevitable result. As it had been before Aigne nì Doineann had negotiated for her sister’s daughter—Cairn’s mother—to be taken into the Sunlit Court as the fourth wife of its virile king.

Not all that gave life was good.

It was a lesson Cairn’s mother had taught him as a child.

Not all that gave life was good, and not all that took life was evil. Despite what the Sunlit Court preached in its glimmering, brightly-lit halls.

Iteodha had been one of two Sluagh wives to the King of the Sidhe, although Cairn had been the only Sluagh child to survive his first two centuries.

Violence, illness, and tragic accidents were all too common in the Sunlit Court. They were more common for the Sluagh who sought to walk in light instead of shadow.

Which is not to say that the same could not also be found in the Court of Shades. The difference was that in the Court of Shades, you knew they were coming. The knives were carried openly, the threats spoken, the curses foretold. The Court of Shades did not hide its viciousness behind a façade of lies. Did not pretend to be benevolent and life-giving while concealing a garrote or a vial of poison behind its back.

A frown settled over the stony features of Cairn’s face. He had been awake for several hours leafing through the tomes of healing tinctures and draughts that might—perhaps—help to stave off the symptoms of whatever curse or poison afflicted the Sluagh King.

That had been his youngest son’s charge—researching the recipes kept in the hold Healer’s Library housed deep in theearth—but Bran had become distracted by his threadbond. Or, more specifically, by the fact that he didn’t want either his threadbond or his bondmate.

Cairn sighed. For someone who insisted he wanted nothing to do with a human half-breed, Bran was certainly spending a lot of time in Dunehame.

Cairn knew his son.

The harder Bran fought something, the more likely it was he was going to end up landing square in the middle of it.

Cairn just hoped that happened sooner rather than later.

Cuileann mac Eug was dying. Slowly, but still dying.

And Cairn was afraid that the Sidhe King wasn’t going to wait much longer.

Chapter

Twelve

It had been a week since Bran had taken them out for sushi, and Jamie couldn’t stop thinking about him. It had been probably the most tame date that Jamie had ever been on—if it evenwasa date, and that particular question had become the central thought preoccupying him whenever he wasn’t actively forcing himself to think about something else.

Trixie wasnothelping.

She kept asking about how things had goneafterdinner. And then didn’t believe him when he said things hadn’t gone after dinner, despite the fact that it was completely true.

Not that Jamie hadn’t been interested, but Bran had kept his distance. He wasn’t cold or standoffish, exactly, but he also hadn’t made any of the kinds of overtures that would seem romantic or sexual. And he hadn’t asked Jamie on adate, exactly. He’d just said he wanted to ‘understand more’ about Jamie—which usually meant that someone was interested in a date, but Jamie got the impression that Bran wasn’t exactlyusual.

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