Brogan walked over, slightly out of breath. He pulled off the gloves and held them up for our inspection.
“Iron,” he said. “Makes ‘em ill—depletes the magic in their skin.”
Brogan nodded toward the cage where the pixie now huddled, shivering and growling in the center. “We’ll return the little sod to ‘is people on the morrow.” And with that, someone whisked it away.
Cassidy nudged me and nodded to the side with big eyes.
I followed her stare to find McKale standing in his doorway watching me, uncertain.
“Kale!” I ran, bumping people and knocking McKale back as I flung my arms around his neck. He was a rumpled mess from his time with the Clourichaun.
“Robyn,” he whispered into my hair. His arms tightened around me.
“I didn’t mean I was choosing for you to go,” I said.
“I know it. I knew it then, but I couldn’t let her think there was any way we’d let her have yer sister.”
I pulled back enough to look at him. “Thank you. You bought us time.”
He cupped my face in both his hands and examined my face with tender urgency. His eyes told me he hadn’t given Khalistah the kind of kiss she desired. If he had, he would still be dazed and unable to focus on me in this way.
Someone cleared their throat, causing McKale and I to remember we had a full audience of worried people. We broke away and opted for holding hands as Brogan stepped forward.
“We found McKale coming back to the village,” he explained to me. “He’d rid himself of the pixie fer a time while it ran after some grub, so we told ‘im the plan.”
McKale’s thumb stroked the top of my hand. “I was coming yer way to see ya when the blasted pixie came back, so I went to me own room to be safe.”
We were all quiet.
“Keefe,” Brogan said, running a hand down his beard.
The young man stepped up and removed the beret from his head.
“I want someone watching the portal all night. Ye lads can take shifts. Tell ‘em to keep the horn handy and sound it if the gate opens.”
“Aye, Brogan.” Keefe gave a small bow and ran to do his duty.
“Brogan, sir, if I may…” Leilah stepped forward and gave a timid curtsey.
“Aye, lassie?”
“’Tis no’ the tradition, I know, but…” Even in the dark of night I sensed the flush of embarrassment on her features. She stared at the ground and Brogan urged her to continue.
Leilah lifted her head and asked, “Might McKale and Robyn bind this very evening? The official ceremony on the morrow could still take place fer show.”
Murmurs rose around us.
McKale and I looked at each other. Brogan ran a hand down his beard, unsure.
Mom stepped forward. “It’s a good idea. If they want to, I say let them bind. Let them have this night.”
She didn’t have to say “just in case” because we were all thinking it. The thought of what might happen tomorrow if our plan failed made my stomach seize. This could be our last night together: our only night. Brogan looked at my father, who nodded his agreement. I smiled at McKale as a fluttery nervousness settle inside.
“Aye?” he whispered to me.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
He gave me a half-grin and nodded before turning to Brogan.
“We wish to bind this night, Father.”
“Aye. Well, then.” Brogan nodded to Leilah. “Fetch the bindings. McKale, straighten yer room, son. ‘Tis no’ fit fer a female in that state of disaster.”
My cheeks flamed. Everyone cheered as Leilah ran off and a group of older women descended upon McKale’s room, bustling past him and clucking about the mess. He gave them a sheepish shrug and grin as the oldest woman swatted his backside then shut the door on us.
A sudden thought hit me and I thought aloud, “What about my dress?” My current outfit was a t-shirt and cotton shorts. I wasn’t even wearing a bra! I crossed my arms.
“You’ll wear the dress tomorrow for the fake binding,” Cassidy said. “You don’t need it tonight.” She dug an elbow into my ribs and I met her glinting eye.
Oh my goodness… I’m gonna pass out. I couldn’t even look at my parents, even though I knew they hadn’t heard Cass’s remark.
Cass giggled and wrapped an arm around my waist. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered.
Leilah returned with a woven basket full of colorful silken scraps. I pressed my free hand to my nervous stomach as the women began to untangle the mass of material.
Mom sidled close to my side. “Are you okay with this?”
I nodded. Dad cleared his throat behind us.
“Nothing like an impromptu wedding,” he said under his breath. I turned to see him rubbing his neck.
Mom wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Our babies are growing up, Leon.” They both gazed at me, eyes full of sentiment, and Cass squeezed my hand.
Things got a little crazy when McKale and the women emerged from his hut. It didn’t take long to realize this was a “hands-on” kind of ceremony. McKale and I were pushed by excited hands to the middle of the group where a small opening had been made. Mom and Cassidy followed us while Dad hung back with the other men. A fiddler and flautist had retrieved their instruments and began to play soft, sweet music. Love ballads.
There was no big announcement. No gown or flowers. Just McKale and I in our pajamas with messy hair. We were moved into position, facing one another. Led by Leilah, my mom and sister took a long strand of purple cloth and wrapped it around our waists, forcing our abdomens together as they tied a tight knot. I giggled up at McKale’s wistful face when the oldest woman insisted, “Tighter!” I’d always thought the term “binding” was metaphorical.
“Iron,” he said. “Makes ‘em ill—depletes the magic in their skin.”
Brogan nodded toward the cage where the pixie now huddled, shivering and growling in the center. “We’ll return the little sod to ‘is people on the morrow.” And with that, someone whisked it away.
Cassidy nudged me and nodded to the side with big eyes.
I followed her stare to find McKale standing in his doorway watching me, uncertain.
“Kale!” I ran, bumping people and knocking McKale back as I flung my arms around his neck. He was a rumpled mess from his time with the Clourichaun.
“Robyn,” he whispered into my hair. His arms tightened around me.
“I didn’t mean I was choosing for you to go,” I said.
“I know it. I knew it then, but I couldn’t let her think there was any way we’d let her have yer sister.”
I pulled back enough to look at him. “Thank you. You bought us time.”
He cupped my face in both his hands and examined my face with tender urgency. His eyes told me he hadn’t given Khalistah the kind of kiss she desired. If he had, he would still be dazed and unable to focus on me in this way.
Someone cleared their throat, causing McKale and I to remember we had a full audience of worried people. We broke away and opted for holding hands as Brogan stepped forward.
“We found McKale coming back to the village,” he explained to me. “He’d rid himself of the pixie fer a time while it ran after some grub, so we told ‘im the plan.”
McKale’s thumb stroked the top of my hand. “I was coming yer way to see ya when the blasted pixie came back, so I went to me own room to be safe.”
We were all quiet.
“Keefe,” Brogan said, running a hand down his beard.
The young man stepped up and removed the beret from his head.
“I want someone watching the portal all night. Ye lads can take shifts. Tell ‘em to keep the horn handy and sound it if the gate opens.”
“Aye, Brogan.” Keefe gave a small bow and ran to do his duty.
“Brogan, sir, if I may…” Leilah stepped forward and gave a timid curtsey.
“Aye, lassie?”
“’Tis no’ the tradition, I know, but…” Even in the dark of night I sensed the flush of embarrassment on her features. She stared at the ground and Brogan urged her to continue.
Leilah lifted her head and asked, “Might McKale and Robyn bind this very evening? The official ceremony on the morrow could still take place fer show.”
Murmurs rose around us.
McKale and I looked at each other. Brogan ran a hand down his beard, unsure.
Mom stepped forward. “It’s a good idea. If they want to, I say let them bind. Let them have this night.”
She didn’t have to say “just in case” because we were all thinking it. The thought of what might happen tomorrow if our plan failed made my stomach seize. This could be our last night together: our only night. Brogan looked at my father, who nodded his agreement. I smiled at McKale as a fluttery nervousness settle inside.
“Aye?” he whispered to me.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
He gave me a half-grin and nodded before turning to Brogan.
“We wish to bind this night, Father.”
“Aye. Well, then.” Brogan nodded to Leilah. “Fetch the bindings. McKale, straighten yer room, son. ‘Tis no’ fit fer a female in that state of disaster.”
My cheeks flamed. Everyone cheered as Leilah ran off and a group of older women descended upon McKale’s room, bustling past him and clucking about the mess. He gave them a sheepish shrug and grin as the oldest woman swatted his backside then shut the door on us.
A sudden thought hit me and I thought aloud, “What about my dress?” My current outfit was a t-shirt and cotton shorts. I wasn’t even wearing a bra! I crossed my arms.
“You’ll wear the dress tomorrow for the fake binding,” Cassidy said. “You don’t need it tonight.” She dug an elbow into my ribs and I met her glinting eye.
Oh my goodness… I’m gonna pass out. I couldn’t even look at my parents, even though I knew they hadn’t heard Cass’s remark.
Cass giggled and wrapped an arm around my waist. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered.
Leilah returned with a woven basket full of colorful silken scraps. I pressed my free hand to my nervous stomach as the women began to untangle the mass of material.
Mom sidled close to my side. “Are you okay with this?”
I nodded. Dad cleared his throat behind us.
“Nothing like an impromptu wedding,” he said under his breath. I turned to see him rubbing his neck.
Mom wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Our babies are growing up, Leon.” They both gazed at me, eyes full of sentiment, and Cass squeezed my hand.
Things got a little crazy when McKale and the women emerged from his hut. It didn’t take long to realize this was a “hands-on” kind of ceremony. McKale and I were pushed by excited hands to the middle of the group where a small opening had been made. Mom and Cassidy followed us while Dad hung back with the other men. A fiddler and flautist had retrieved their instruments and began to play soft, sweet music. Love ballads.
There was no big announcement. No gown or flowers. Just McKale and I in our pajamas with messy hair. We were moved into position, facing one another. Led by Leilah, my mom and sister took a long strand of purple cloth and wrapped it around our waists, forcing our abdomens together as they tied a tight knot. I giggled up at McKale’s wistful face when the oldest woman insisted, “Tighter!” I’d always thought the term “binding” was metaphorical.
