“Almost a year has passed since I last visited the Otherworld,” Cate said, tucking her feet up beneath the dressing gown. “Brigid will expect me before the month is out. I would like for us to go together.”
The question of Sophie’s husband was swept away by another. “I don’t understand why Brigid stipulated a yearly visit when you have to crossover more frequently just to replenish your power.” Three months away had nearly killed me. I couldn’t imagine going a day longer, let alone an entire year.
“Those rules no longer apply to me. As goddess born, we are neither wholly human nor wholly divine, but an aberration of the two. We can yield the power of the Tuatha Dé, but are unable to regenerate it on our own. So in essence, it is our humanness that has kept us tethered to the Otherworld. By loosening the bands of mortality, Brigid had to give precedent to the divine, which in turn, freed me from the need to crossover for any other purpose than to visit her.”
I stared at Cate in stunned silence while this newest idea played further havoc with the world I had once understood. “You no longer have to drink from the spring?” I asked at last. “Are you sure?” Not that she could have mistaken something of this magnitude, but the question slipped out all the same.
“Quite sure,” she laughed. “The potential resides in each of us by virtue of our goddess blood. As a matter of fact, you may have already experienced something similar. Tell me, does anything unusual happen whenever you kiss Henry?”
A slow heat crept up my neck. “Brigid’s fire comes to the surface. Henry says it’s like he can feel my soul.”
“So it is for every goddess born once they find love. The Tuatha Dé and humans hold this power in common, and neither side acts to stifle the other. As a consequence, we have an unlimited supply no matter if we drink from the spring or not.”
My thoughts went to the carriage ride with Henry. At the time I hadn’t understood why my power responded so quickly to his kiss, and yet had barely been able to heal a simple cut. The reason seemed so obvious now that I understood how the different races came together in the goddess born, enhancing what was familiar while suppressing the unfamiliar.
With a yawn, Cate stretched and leaned back on her elbows. “I’ve grown tired of talking. What do you think of a few experiments? Nothing too taxing, just enough to test the waters of your gift.”
The offhanded suggestion caught me by surprise. “Right now?”
“Why not. Is there a particular skill you wish to learn first?” She winked at me. “Perhaps we can have you turned to a hag before Henry returns this evening.”
In time I would learn everything, but for today, one skill rose above all others. Leaning forward, I looked straight in her eyes. “How difficult is it to read thoughts?”
Chapter Seventeen
In Cold Blood
From all my imaginings of Henry’s return, none compared with the real perfection in which I now found myself. Well past midnight, silence reigned in the house beyond my chamber door. Within, the sound of soft, rhythmic breathing emphasized the state of peaceful idyll. Firelight cast its golden light across the bed, and I curled on one side like a contented kitten, my head resting in Henry’s lap. He leaned against a stack of down pillows propped up at the headboard, eyes closed and one hand lightly tracing the skin on my arm.
He had arrived two hours earlier, unannounced except for a swift knock on the wooden panel before stepping into the room. As he threw off his hat and greatcoat, one look revealed a black mood, which I quickly learned stemmed from the lethal combination of exhaustion and anger. Eight hours in the saddle could wear on the strongest of men. Being played a fool by one’s own father could drive a man to war, and had done so in darker times. Not that I expected otherwise from the duke. For me, his true colors had been revealed a year ago when he forged his son’s name to the betrothal contract with Amelia. But for Henry, this deception proved unexpected, and their brief interview nearly came to blows when the duke refused to reveal his underhanded interest in my lineage.