The Mage's Daughter (42 page)

“I daresay not,” Miach agreed with a sigh. He looked at her casually. “Do you think I'm being cruel?”

She shook her head. “Nay, I think you're only doing what your duty demands. Even if this had been a terrible accident instead of your brother being his ridiculous self, you cannot leave the safety of the realm to pursue what your heart might dictate.”

“But I did,” he said with a weary smile. “I was willing to risk quite a bit in Gobhann.”

“You did what you had to to fetch the one you needed to wield the Sword of Angesand—and to close a certain well—”

“But, Morgan,” he interrupted, sounding shocked, “you know I didn't do it for either. Don't you?”

“Of course I do,” she said with a grave smile, “but it worked out for the best, didn't it?”

His eyes were suddenly very red. “I swear I never know what's going to come out of your mouth next.”

“As many terms of affection as you can possibly bear,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Thank you for braving Weger's gates.”

“I braved them to fetch out the mage's daughter,” he said, “but not so I could use her to wield a sword or to close her father's well. I only went in because my heart couldn't survive without her.”

“I know. And that's made all the difference,” she said. “Just you, loving me for me and waiting for me to find my own way.”

He pressed her head against his shoulder. “Don't watch me weep over you yet again,” he said gruffly. “It will completely unman me in front of my brothers, and I will
never
live that down.”

Having spent an hour or two in the company of those brothers, she could see where he had a point, so she settled comfortably in his arms and allowed him a bit of peace. She watched her grandfather and uncle and Miach's brothers continue to play cards, pulled Miach's arm from behind her back and laid it over her lap. She traced the runes of Neroche and Tòrr Dòrainn that encircled his wrist. They were beautiful, true, but she found that looking at them now, faint in the firelight, caused a flicker of something to spring to life in her heart. It was a fiercely encouraging feeling, as if it had been fire leaping onto the top of the torch at Gobhann when Miach had used the spell of Fadaire.

She couldn't say if she and Miach would be successful. Her mother hadn't been. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't meet the same fate. There was nothing but darkness in front of her and darkness following.

But that flame was stubborn and it was beautiful. Morgan found that just concentrating on it made her feel as if she might have the courage to continue on that path she'd begun when she'd taken her first steps as Mhorghain of Tòrr Dòrainn. She let out a deep sigh, then looked at Miach. He was watching her with a smile.

“Good thoughts?” he asked.

She put her hand over his wrist. “I feel better when I look at these. As if I might actually manage the task set before me.”

He took her right hand in his, turned her wrist over and trailed his finger over her skin. He looked up at her. “I might be able to tell you partly why. You're reading your name. Can you see it here?”

Morgan looked to where he was pointing. She couldn't see it, but that didn't mean anything. She had far to go before she would recognize anything her grandfather had written there. She frowned.

“Morgan?” she asked.

“Mhorghain,” he corrected. “It is a Camanaë name, you know.” He smiled. “It means
hope
.”

Tears stung her eyes suddenly. “Truly?”

“Truly,” he said. He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then he smiled at her. “It is something you bring wherever you go, Mhorghain.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You've never called me that before.”

“It seemed appropriate.” He took her left hand, kissed the inside of her wrist, then smiled at her. “I think, my love, that hope may be what saves us all.”

She merely nodded because her heart would have broken if she'd opened her mouth.

So she put her head on Miach's shoulder and closed her eyes. The darkness would be faced soon enough, but at least she wouldn't face it alone. She would have Miach, his family, her family, and even her mother who lived on in dreams and a single letter.

And she would have hope.

It was enough for now.