Ash and Quill(89)

"I was afraid you'd never come back," she told him, and put him at arm's length to stare at him. He realized, maybe for the first time, that he'd inherited the color of his eyes from her, as had Brendan. He couldn't remember what color their dead brother Liam's had been. More like his father's, he thought. "Callum hasn't told me much, you know, but I know you've been in terrible danger. Oh, Jess!"

"I'm all right," he said, and it sounded awkward; he cleared his throat and tried to make it sound warmer. "I've missed you, Mother."

She'd always been Mother, never anything more affectionate. Then again, Callum had always been Da, and there was little enough affection there, either . . .

"I've missed you so," she said, and kissed his cheek, which was shocking. "Welcome home, my dear."

She went to greet Brendan with the same outpouring of emotion, which must have surprised his twin just as much, but Jess didn't have a chance to observe it. His father was coming down the steps at a much more sedate, lordly pace, and he was using an ebony cane that he probably didn't need. Knowing his da, there'd be a poisoned blade inside it.

"Jess," his father said, when they were face-to-face.

"Da," he replied, and was unprepared for his father-like his mother-to sweep him into a strong, crushing embrace. It was confusing, and at the same time, he felt some war that had been waging inside him go silent, too. Had he needed this? God help him if he had, because it was very likely that it wasn't real at all. His da was perfectly capable of putting on a show for those he wanted to impress . . . which would be who, exactly?

Ah, of course. Anit.

Callum let Jess go and gave Brendan the same greeting, and then gave Anit a decorous, formal bow. "Your father always said you were as beautiful as the dawn," Callum said. "I see that for once his genius for poetry failed him, because you're far lovelier than that, my dear."


      ///
       
         
       
        

She bowed, too, and stepped forward to offer him the kiss of greeting between friends-one on each cheek, then one lightly on the lips. "My father sends you warm greetings, my uncle. I am honored to be welcome in your house."

"Ever welcome, my dear. You're part of the family, after all." Callum-still bluff and strong and barrel-chested, still expensively togged out, only a little thinner and a little grayer than Jess remembered him-offered Anit his crooked elbow, and she took it with the calm assurance of a princess. "And I see the lovely young Morgan is with us again." He bowed to her-shallowly-and she gave him a little nod back. "Have all your friends survived your journey? That's a credit to your skills. A considerable achievement."

This smarmy flow of compliments, Jess gathered, was all for Anit's benefit. He glanced at Brendan and saw the answering glint in his brother's eyes. Cynical, but weirdly reassuring. His memories of the chilly distance with his mother weren't wrong. And neither were his recollections of the slaps his father dealt out to teach him the proper way to run a smuggled book through London.

Their parents moved on to greet the others with a good deal more restraint, and then led the way up into the castle.

"Quite the show," Brendan said, falling into step beside his brother, and Jess made a throwing-up sound in the back of his throat. "What? Are you saying it isn't good to be back in the bosom of the old family?"

"I feel welcome as ever," Jess said. "Do you actually live in this great pile of rocks, or is it just a stage for whatever play they're putting on?"

"Oh, I live here. For now, anyway." Brendan shook his head with a crooked smile on his lips. "Come on, brother. I'll help get everyone sorted for sleeping quarters. There are twenty extra bedrooms in the place that can sleep three in a pinch, and ten more in the guesthouse-"

"Guesthouse?"

"And you don't need to worry about our safety. Besides these castle walls, the entire grounds stretch on for miles in every direction. The borders are surrounded by walls and sentries. Plus, we're remote here, and we have spies on every road and approach who'll send word immediately if anyone starts our way. Unless the damned Library has learned how to fly, they won't be able to get here without ample warning, and a hell of a fight."

"You have troops."

"We have . . . hired men. And a great deal to defend. You know how it goes." 

What Brendan was really telling him, in so many words, was that this was a prison, and every escape route was guarded.