seconds he was striding by her side, lost in thoughts she hoped were now muddled by her honesty. Thoughts that may still be on a path to revenge, but hopefully that path was now blocked by the obstacle of their bond.
29
Fionn didn’t ask her for An Breitheamh that day.
Or the next.
Instead, they fell into a companionable existence with Fionn offering to train her further in her abilities. This included using the castle as they had La Sagrada Familia. They didn’t discuss much else, falling safely into a comfortable neutral zone.
However, the rain returned the following day in torrential sheets of blistering cold, pounding droplets. Rose woke late, tired from expending her energy on traveling all over the castle grounds yesterday. Fionn had been trying to teach her to fight using the ability.
It had been more than a little therapeutic to battle with him.
After finding breakfast muffins that Fionn had “popped” in, Rose meandered through the castle in search of him, a coffee cup in hand. Upon questioning him about his staff, Fionn told her he hadn’t gotten around to hiring new staff. The conversation made him brood, so Rose didn’t push the subject.
Rose wasn’t happy to be cooped up at the castle indefinitely. She was slowly falling in love with An Caomhnóir. But it was becoming clear that Rose hadn’t been on the move since college because she was searching for something.
Rose was a nomad.
It was just who she was.
Thankfully, that meant staying on the move for the rest of her life was less likely to affect her happiness.
Finding Fionn in the main hall, sitting on the large L-shaped couch reading a leather-bound book, Rose quietly made her way over to him. He glanced up from the page.
“Good morning.”
“Hi.” She settled on the adjacent two-seater sofa, curling her legs under her. They locked eyes as she brought her coffee cup to her lips, and Rose attempted to ignore the flutter in her stomach.
Her attraction to him was not going to dissipate soon.
The fires blazed at either side of the room, and yet Rose shivered.
A little smile quirked the corner of Fionn’s mouth. A cocky expression told her he knew she wasn’t shivering because she was cold.
Shooting him a glare, she huffed, “Stop it.”
Fionn grinned. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m just sitting here, reading my book.”
“You’ve lived for three centuries. Haven’t you read all the books by now?”
He shook his head, still smiling.
Rose hated that she loved she could make him smile.
Looking from his face to his book before she did something impulsive, she studied the title. The illustrative wrap that had been covering the hardback was abandoned on the couch at Fionn’s side.
“A History of the Middle East?”
Lowering the book, her companion shrugged.
“Fionn, you’ve been around for three centuries. Don’t you know more about history than most people?”
“I missed over 1800 years of history while I was under that druid spell, Rose. And even living the last few centuries, I couldn’t keep up with everything. You live that long, information battles for priority in your mind. Facts and memories are pushed out in favor of something your brain deems more important. This is the third time I’ve read this book.”
Something occurred to Rose that hadn’t before. “Does it bother you? I mean, apart from the obvious painful loss of personal connections … does it bother you that you should have been around for 1800 years of history and you were denied it?”
The air around him grew colder. “How honest do you want me to be?”
“I always want you to be a hundred percent honest with me. No matter what.”
“Then no. Apart from being denied the right to watch my children grow, I’m grateful I haven’t lived for over two thousand years. The spell left me to my dreams but not once did I feel the passing of time while I slumbered. Three centuries is long enough to be alive, Rose. Time has a way of revealing man’s inability to learn from his mistakes. It’s frustrating to watch an entire species repeat its follies over and over. Time pummels the hopeful and strengthens the cynic. Immortality eventually isolates you. All the things that make you human are lost.”
“Like what?”
“The beauty in fragility. The passion of inevitability. The gratitude for time.”
Worry pierced Rose’s soul. Would she, over time, lose everything that made her human? Wasn’t she already? Already she was fearless in many ways. But in others, she wasn’t. She eyed him thoughtfully. “You’re still human, Fionn.”
He glowered. “What makes you