Donal threw his pitchfork into the soil, missing his brother’s foot by inches, and ran for the house.

  “Oi!” Finn yelled. “What was that for?”

  “Dry up!” Donal yelled over his shoulder. “If I wanted to hit you, I would have. You’d be insufferable if I left you with nine toes.”

  Donal was in a race with a draught horse named Scáth. He was a shadow darting from the daylight, reflecting but a small amount of sunlight off his back and shoulder. His rider pulled them to a stop twenty yards from the stables.

  “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, lad,” the rider said as she swung her left leg over the horse and slid down from the saddle, “but your heart will burst long before you ever beat Scáth in a race.”

  Maeve O’Connor shook a journey’s worth of dust from her charcoal hair as if it were a colony of ants. She smoothed it back from her face and beamed at her greeter. “Howya Donal?” she said.

  She’s a sight. Nearly every word Donal had ever learned slipped from his mind. “Grand,” he said. “Fine, I guess.”

  She raised her nose to match his eye level and imitated his delivery. “‘Grand,’ ‘fine,’” she said. “Which is it?”

  Donal glanced at his feet, his brain fumbling to regain his vocabulary. Maeve smiled and pulled him in for a hug. The pang of his old infatuation still hit him in the first minutes of each reunion. Luckily for him it faded faster with each subsequent visit.

  “How’s Gavin?” Donal asked.

  “Grand,” she said.

  It was Donal’s turn for satirizing. “‘Grand,’ she says.”

  She tried her best to scowl but failed. “We just came back from Roscommon,” she said. “Situating my parents on some old family land.”

  “You didn’t tell me they were leaving,” Donal said. “What changed their mind about Connaught?”

  Maeve jerked a shoulder upward. “I did,” she said. “Things aren’t getting better up here, and I can’t worry about them and do what I do. They were Niall’s age when my mother bore me.”

  Donal knitted his brow and looked south.

  “It’s for the best,” Maeve said, a soft smile spreading across her lips. “And it was nice to spend some extended time with them. No Sílrad, no Fomori, just the four of us.” Her mouth flattened and she pointed at Donal. “Don’t ever tell ‘em I said that.”

  “Oi, I heard that,” Donal said, unable to hide an impish grin. “‘Just the four of you?’ And how did that end?”

  “They’re mad about Gavin,” she said.

  Donal threw his head back and cackled. “That makes three of you.”

  She shoved his shoulder with her arm. “Listen to you,” she said. “I have to say, sir, you’re carrying yourself a brave bit lighter than before.”

  Donal’s face dropped as he patted his abdomen in several places. “Dya’mean by that?”

  “Not that, you eejit,” she said. She pressed his forehead with her right index finger. “Up there. What’s the story with that?”

  “Just tryin’ to get through each day,” he said. “The episodes still come and go, but I think I’m handling them better.”

  She threw an arm around him and squeezed. “You’ve come a long way in less than a year.” She spun him toward Scáth. “Help me out while I settle in, would you?”

  Over her shoulder he saw Finn approaching with his spade and Donal’s pitchfork. Donal pointed a thumb in his brother’s direction. “Sure thing,” he said. “Beats the alternative.”

  “Don’t worry a hair on your head, brother,” Finn said. “Of course I can finish the work myself.”

  Maeve spun around to face Finn. “Sounds like old times, the way you tell it,” she said. “Which means you’ll be just fine.”

  Finn cursed under his breath. “Ah here, you haven’t stepped a wet foot through the front door and you two are already conspiring against me.”

  “You should go inside and rouse your mot and your in-laws, then,” Maeve said, pointing at Airgid. “I’ll even give you Niall and make it a fair fight.”

  Finn’s expression sobered. “Jokes are jokes, but no need for that kind of talk,” he said.

  “Fine, fine,” Maeve said. “Let them know I’m here, anyway?”

  Finn nodded. “Always a pleasure, Maeve.” He rested the implements against a stone fence and walked toward the house.

  “Good to see you, too, Finn,” she said.

  Donal removed the sack tied to Scáth and followed Maeve as she led her horse to the stables.

  “Are those two driving you batty yet?” Maeve asked.

  “Sometimes,” Donal said. “Hai, it throws me how differently they act compared to you and Gavin. You all paired up around the same time, yet you two don’t get as silly about it as Finn and Siobhan.”

  “I’m sure we do,” Maeve said. “We just have the good sense not to act that way in front of others. Sure look, Donal, I know you haven’t seen many other examples outside of your parents and perhaps Murrough and Niall. But I shouldn’t have to tell you everybody’s different. This,” she said, wagging a finger at the house, “looks different for everyone. You’ll find out someday.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I can’t imagine that,” Donal muttered.

  Maeve tied up Scáth and nudged Donal’s shoulder with her elbow. “I seem to recall you were imagining it just fine around a campfire last July.”

  Donal scowled and swatted the air between the two of them. “Dry up!” he said. He turned back toward the house to prevent Maeve from seeing his cheeks turn scarlet. “I have too much on my mind—in my mind—for that kind of talk right now.”

  Maeve caught up to him and snatched the bag from his shoulder and ruffled his hair. “You’re dead on with that,” she said, “and that’s why I call you the ‘smart’ brother.”

  “So should they all,” he said.

  “Ready for the trip east?” Maeve asked.

  Donal stopped ten feet shy of the door to the main house.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He held up a hand and bounced it a few times as he considered his next words. “Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Nevermind. Let’s get you inside.” He stepped ahead of Maeve and held open the front door.

  Maeve’s eyes fixed upon his face from under her furrowed brow. He pointed inside until she moved from her spot. She broke eye contact only after she passed him and entered the house.

  Siobhan ambushed Maeve, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Took you long enough,” she said with a smile that subverted her words. “Is it settled?”

  Maeve nodded. “It is.”

  A twinkle appeared in Siobhan’s eye. “And how did the other business go?”

  Maeve rolled her eyes. “Everything’s grand, MacSweeney.”

  Siobhan gently shook Maeve with delight. “That’s deadly! I’m so happy.”

  Maeve shook her head as her face flushed. She reached up and across her body to pat the back of Siobhan’s hand. “Ah here, your happiness was atop the list of my worries,” she said. “Such a relief. Can I see the others now?”

  Siobhan dipped her chin low enough for eyebrows to eclipse the twinkle in her eyes. Her smile waned into a grin that tugged on just the right side of her face. She nodded and clapped Maeve’s shoulder before stepping aside.

  Niall stepped even with Mrs. MacSweeney before he waved down the visitor. “You didn’t bring him?” he asked.

  Maeve canted her head and furrowed her face. “He’s not coming with us tomorrow,” she said, “and he’s already behind on his work as it is. Why would I bring him?”

  A wicked grin split his face. “For our benefit, of course.”

  Maeve threw her arms upward. “Everybody’s a gas,” she said. “What about you, Mrs. MacSweeney? What bit of slagging have you got for me?”

  Mrs. MacSweeney’s bottom lip protruded as the top of her face wrinkled. “I’m surprised at you, Maeve,” she said. “You should know better.”

  The room fell silent. Maeve cast her gaze to the floor. “Sorry, Mrs. MacSweeney.”

  The widow’s face relented into a smile. “It’s not as funny if the person you’re slagging gives you permission.”

  Maeve sighed. “It would appear the day is lost,” she said. “I’ll go next door and retire early. Wake me when it’s time to leave.”

  “None of that,” Mrs. MacSweeney said. “I’ll make it up to you with a nice dinner.”

  “You were going to make such a dinner anyway,” Maeve said.

  “So I was,” Mrs. MacSweeney said. “But now it’s in your honor.”

  Maeve grinned. “I can live with that,” she said. “And not just because I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  Despite a full hour of banter, an offhand comment wedged itself in the front of Donal’s mind. The room now in a lull, he could distract himself from it no longer. “Maeve, can we go back to something?” he asked.

  She looked up from her huddle with Mrs. MacSweeney and Niall. “What is it, lad?”

  He couldn’t find a graceful setup, so he jumped in. “Did you say that Gavin’s not coming east with us?”

  “I did.”

  “Why not?”

  “I already explained why,” she said, “and frankly, we don’t need him.” Her confused expression softened. “Look, if you miss him, we can visit him on our way through Dunfanaghy. I’m sure he’d be that happy to see ya.”

  Donal shook his head. “That’s not it at all. I’m tellin’ ya that I don’t want to go.”

  Niall stepped forward. “And why not?” he asked.

  “You don’t need me,” Donal said.

  “My question stands,” Niall said, folding his arms.

  “You’re going,” Donal said. “Siobhan’s going. Maeve’s going. Even Finn’s going. Why the devil would you need me?”

  Niall sighed. “Siobhan?”

  “—You’re our best hand-to-hand fighter,” Siobhan said without missing a beat. “You helped defeat an ávertach, a dullahan and two dark wizards. You’re a descendant of Lugh Lamhfada and a credit to your people—us.” She read his face until he looked away. “Because it will do you good to reach out and meet new people in new places.”

  Finn caught his brother’s body shift in response to Siobhan’s answer. He pulled out a chair. “There it is,” he said to the room. “Sit down.” He held out his hand until his brother joined him at the table. “Donal, you’re overthinking this,” Finn said.

  “Words from the master himself,” muttered Siobhan.

  Finn jabbed a finger in Siobhan’s direction. “Whist, you. You’re not helping.”

  “Am I not?” Siobhan asked, waving Finn’s attention back to Donal. She had caught the corners of Donal’s mouth flicker before he could tuck his chin into his chest and itch his nose.

  “Fine,” Finn said, returning his full attention to Donal. “Given what we’ve accomplished, the realities that you and I have embraced in the past year, doesn’t it seem rather foolish to worry about visiting unknown places and meeting new people?”

  Donal shrugged. “I don’t dread something because it might kill me,” he said. “Sometimes making a fool of myself and living with it hanging over my head feels as bad.”

  Finn rested his elbows on the table and wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

  Donal flopped his right hand in the air. “I don’t know. It still melts me how Siobhan’s uncle Lorcan treats us.”

  “You know yourself that’s how he treats most people,” Finn said. “Besides, I can’t imagine that there’s many people in Coleraine and Tyrone who will act like that.”

  Maeve cleared her throat. “Hai, I’m sad to say that Lorcan would fit right in with some O’Cahans and O’Neills.”

  Donal’s heart sank. He looked up and found Siobhan and her mother glowering at Maeve.

  Maeve lifted her right shoulder. “If it’s going to send our lad reeling, better to do it now than in strange company,” She looked at Donal “That’s what worries you, isn’t it?”

  Donal leaned his head to the right, closed his eyes and nodded. Maeve was correct, but he had hoped for a more delicate phrasing.

  “Sure look, brother, The days when it was just you and myself having several rows a day in Ards Beg is over,” Finn said. “You’re no longer that lad clawing to save the childhood that both malady and tragedy took from you. Those things are still a part of you, but a few things have changed.”

  Donal scoffed. “That was nine bleedin’ months ago!” he said. “How much about me has really changed?”

  Finn dipped his chin near the table and left his hands. “You coddin’ me? You’re all but a man now, you’ve proven yourself as someone who can be relied upon in the most trying of situations and,” he said, leaning back and raising his arms, “you have all of us to pick you up should you stumble.”

  Donal bobbed his head to mask his surprise. Finn had never sounded more like his father in the four years since their parents had passed. “I suppose I’m going east after all,” he said.

  “Good lad,” Maeve said. “Besides, if things work out the way the aul’ men think, The Creeve will be the friendliest of the places we visit.”

  Siobhan dropped her jaw and smacked the back of Maeve’s shoulder.