She twirled so quickly, hot liquid from the pot splattered from her spoon and dripped across the floor. “You’re in my head again.”
He sat in a rickety chair, watching her, arms crossed over an old fisherman’s sweater he’d shrugged into when they’d returned. A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Well, you won’t talk to me...”
“That does not give you the right—” she began and then bit off the rest of her words. She blew out a breath, hoping the simple action would cool the sudden fury raging through her. Giving the stew another stir, she stalked over and sat across from him in the room’s only other chair. “I don’t understand why I get so angry at you.” He opened his mouth, but she shook her head. “No, let me do this my own way. Before I talk about the hard stuff, what would you like me to call you if other people are around? Do you have a more Americanized name?”
Blue eyes twinkled merrily. “I’ve tried that. Didn’t work, because none of them ever got my attention. Call me Fionn.” He lapsed into his Gaelic accent. “Just doona be including the rest of my name.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop that. What if I slip up?”
“You’ll figure something out. Look, lass, I can’t stuff the cat back into the bag.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Next question. Why do the Old Ones have another name for Dewi?”
“They had a dragon god before Mu sank. They must believe Dewi is that god.”
“They called it Orione.” Fionn just looked at her, so she went on. “Why are you so sure who I met is your dragon god and not theirs?”
“That’s a good question. I suppose at the root of things, I’m not. I’d have to lay eyes on the thing myself to be certain, but Dewi would never have harmed a MacLochlainn. Your mother was right when she told you Dewi protects your clan.”
Aislinn turned the information over in her head. The Old Ones had seemed truly shocked that Orione hadn’t hurt her. “What about the blood part? Is that something Dewi would have done?”
“I could tell you a carefully crafted lie to make you feel better, but I truly do not know. Any magical creature might use blood to determine what sort of being it faced. As it stands, we know two things.” He counted on his fingers. “One, it tasted your blood. Two, it let you go. I believe it discovered who you were through your blood.”
“Which is why it left,” she finished for him and got up to give the stew another stir. “Earlier, you said the Old Ones came from Mu. So, that’s a true story? About the continent sinking and all.”
“Of course. Never could figure out why it dropped out of the histories. Unless the Lemurians wanted to cover their tracks. It was their own damned fault they lost their land—”
She held up both hands. “Uh-uh. Maybe sometime I’d like to hear about it, but my head’s too full right now.”
A corner of his mouth turned down. “I’m guessing now would not be the time to tell you the history of Ireland and the MacLochlainn clan, either?”
“Prescient of you.” She smiled as she sat back down. Her earlier anger scattered like so much dust. She reached a hand across the small table that lay between them, and he took it. Her next words came hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I just kept thinking it wasn’t all that bad. After all, it was only D’Chel. It wasn’t as if he had an army at his back—”
“Not that you knew about,” Fionn growled.
She waved him to silence. “Hush. I’m trying to apologize. It isn’t easy. Anyway, I promise I’ll try to do better. It’s hard to see myself as part of something. It’s been just me for three years.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. It was such a courtly, old world gesture that it warmed her. “I think our meal’s nearly ready,” he said. “Not sure what time it is, but it might qualify as a romantic midnight supper.”
“Sounds good to me.” Her smile widened into a grin. “I’m hungry.” Aislinn rose, intent on filling bowls with stew.
Rune had been asleep since feasting on raccoon scraps. He got to his feet and rubbed against her as she crossed the room. Something nagged at the back of her mind. “Oh.” She laid a hand on the wolf’s head. “Sorry, Rune, I’d forgotten.” She turned to face Fionn. “Rune wanted to go back to where he and Marta lived. There are things he thinks I should look at.”
Fionn glanced at the wolf.
Rune’s tail swished from side to side. His amber gaze shifted from one to the other of them as he spoke. “Marta kept notes about the Old Ones. They may help you. And I would like to visit what was my home one last time.”