Page 35 of The Fae’s Treasure

“Mhm.”

“She’s human.”

“I know, idiot.”

“What’s that going to do to her?”

I swallow. “If she accepts it—she might never be able to die as humans do.”

“Oh, hell. There’s got to be a way around that. Humans aren’t cut out for immortality, not in this realm. Have you ever seen a human after about ninety? Poor things.”

My head bobs, and I swallow. I’m afraid to speak too loudly, afraid to even think it. I believe the people of Pine Ridge have tried their best to help us, but I still expect Saz to pop up at any moment. I wonder if she somehow feels that the bond between her and Rory has faded.

“Dair? You can’t saddle her with that. There’s got to be another way.”

“If she came back to my realm once Rory was grown... If we anchored to each other and then to my time... Maybe she’d stop aging. And immortal doesn’t mean you can’t be killed. Perhaps...” I can’t even bear to say what I’m thinking. That some morning, when age is claiming her, no matter what I’ve done to forestall it, I give her the sweetest cordial and hold her hand, both of us knowing that once she drinks it, she’ll be gone.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, you mustn’t do that.” Bonwit points up.

Thunderclouds are racing overhead, lightning striking down without warning, and winds are howling without rain.

“What if she offered you her soul as part of the deal? Do you know what would happen then?”

“No. No, I don’t.” I force myself to be calm. To whip the storm away and breathe out crisp, autumn breezes in place of the hurricane gales in my heart.

“She’d become demi-mortal. Live for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. And so would you, Dairmuid. But you’d both die—eventually. When your souls’ clocks stop, they’d stop together.”

“Bonwit. That was unexpectedly poetic. And beautiful. Is it true?”

“Mmhm. It is.”

“How do you know?”

His mouth, usually a thing of smirks and smiles, goes hard. “I don’t want to talk about it today, Dair. Maybe another day. A long, long time from now. Just know that it’s true. Trust me.”

“I do, old friend. Brother of my heart. I do. I just know that Deanna doesn’t love me as I love her. She couldn’t, could she? I need a different bargain, and fast. If I wait long enough to show her that she is my soulmate, the autumnal equinox will be upon us, and Saz might be upon us, too.”

Chapter Eleven: Binding

Choir practice is amazing. Rory is passed from one new adopted granny to adopted uncle to adopted auntie, and finally back to Dairmuid, who’s singing in the tenor section as if he’s been there forever. A bunch of middle-aged ladies are giving him the glad eye, and I can’t blame him.

Want to know what’s sexier than a gorgeous man with wings like stained glass hitting a pure, high note accompanying the throbbing notes of my organ?

If that god of a man is also holding my son, and watching the two of them together makes my entire chest ache.

I can’t wait to get home. Tonight, I don’t want to sleep. Tonight, I want to make music of a different kind.

“Put the baby in his safety bubble,” I pant as we chase each other up the stairs after choir practice, Rory nestled against my shoulder.

Dairmuid kisses me, mouth working the magic that turns me into a dripping mess without even trying. He whisks the baby away, snuggling him and singing to him to keep him asleep. “He’ll be up again in two hours for another feed,” he whispers.

“Two hours isn’t enough?” I ask, unbuttoning my white blouse, a piece of totally impractical clothing for a new mother, but kind of necessary for a preppy professional organist who has paired it with equally impractical beige linen slacks and dark brown pumps.

“I suppose if we hurry,” Dairmuid whispers, placing Rory in his bassinet and enclosing it in the beautiful pinkish-orange bubble. It glows softly in the corner. As an afterthought, he flaps his wings and arms once, and encloses the room, including Rory’s little baby bubble, in a bigger dome that reflects like silver and shines like moonlight. “There are people outside on patrol again tonight. I wanted you to feel protected from those with extra excellent hearing.”

By the way his lips twitch, I know he’s thinking about today. What I overheard. “I’m sorry about that. We haven’t had a second alone,” I whisper, striding over to him.

“I wanted to ask you for so much, Deanna. And I know humans cannot rush. Cannot take leaps, even though they have such short lives.”