told your father—”
“He’s dead.”
Anger, maybe fear with it, had brought high color to Jennifer’s cheeks, and a wild glint to her eyes. Now her eyes went dull; her face gray.
The glass slid out of her hand to shatter on the floor.
“You didn’t know. You really didn’t know. And maybe Nan was right. You did love him. You did love each other.”
“He left. He left a long time ago. I have to clean up this mess before it damages the floor.”
“Now you stop.” Sweeping her hand, Breen vanished the broken glass and spilled liquid.
“You will not bring that into my home, or you will not be welcome here.”
“Is that what you told him? Is that the ultimatum you gave my father? He left his home for you.”
“And constantly went back.”
“He had obligations. He was taoiseach.”
“Tribal bullshit!” When her voice broke, Jennifer whirled away. “We were his family.”
“He had family there, too. A world to protect.”
“He didn’t protect you, did he? Stolen from your bed in the middle of the night.”
“He did protect me. He fought for me. I came home safe.”
“He chose them over me time and time again. A sword and a staff, what idiocy. He could have thrown them back in that cursed lake, but he wouldn’t. He could have lived here, with me, with you, like a normal man, a normal husband and father.”
“But he wasn’t normal the way you mean it. Damn it, you tried to burn out the light in him just like you tried to burn it out in me.”
“He’d be alive if I had.”
Grief, yes, she could see some grief. But she couldn’t let it soften her, not now.
“And very likely as miserable as I was for so much of my life. Odran put me in a cage, but so did you.”
“How dare you say that to me. I kept you safe.”
“Safe on your terms. Always on your terms. You kept me boxed. And when he left that last night, and didn’t come back—because he died weeks after protecting me, you, his world, and this one—you made me think he abandoned me because I didn’t matter to him.”
“I never said that.”
“In a thousand different ways, and you know it. You divorced him, and still he came back to this world time and time again. Because he loved us. Now he’s gone, and we don’t know how to comfort each other.”
“If he’d loved us, he’d have given up the rest.”
Black-and-white, Breen realized. How sad it had to be to live in a world of black-and-white.
“It’s sad you believe that. It makes me sorry for you. Sorry you refuse to see, or are simply incapable of seeing the joy and beauty he fought for. But I see it, I know it. I’ve awakened. I’m of the Fey. You’ll have to learn to deal with it.”
“You won’t bring the unnatural into this house.”
“Understood. You know how to reach me if and when you want.”
“You’re staying here. You’re not going back.”
“Of course I’m going back. I’m my father’s daughter,” she added, and walked out.
And walked over a mile until she’d shaken off the worst of the anger and grief.
She started to call an Uber, then just wound her way to a bus stop. A moment after she sat on the bench, Sedric sat beside her.
“What—what are you doing here?”
“Marg said you were after speaking with your mother this evening. Knowing it would be a hard thing, we decided you might want a bit of looking after. So Marg conjured a temporary portal—just to keep an eye on you for the evening. But you looked to me as if you could use a bit of company. You walked a long way. I’m fond of long walks myself when I’m in the way of being upset.”
“She . . . believes what I am, what my father was, what we have is unnatural. An aberration. And still, when I told her he was dead, I saw her face. She loved him. Nan was right. But she blamed him for not forsaking Talamh, for not pretending to be something he wasn’t. I wasn’t kind to her.”
It surprised Breen when he put an arm around her. Surprised her more when she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I said hard things. I felt them. I needed to get them out of me. I had to come back for this. Not just this, but it was something I had to do.”
“And now it’s done so you’ll be better for it.”
She felt sick and sad,