Page 39 of The Last Kelpie

He laughed, actually laughed, and hugged her back. “At the loch. Where I've always been.”

“For decades without visiting.” She set him down and held him at arm's length, studying his face. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Well, you're back now.” She turned to me, her smile crinkling her bark-like skin. “Welcome home, Ethan. It looks like your first assignment is going well.”

“Not entirely.” I glanced at Áedán. “We need to speak to Julian.”

“Later.” She linked her arm through Áedán's. “Everyone will want to say hello to Áedán.” She looked up at him. “And you still owe me a chess match.”

Áedán groaned. “You're never gonna let that go, are you?”

“You left in the middle of the game!” She steered him into the main hall. “I've been waiting years for you to finish it.”

We went down the corridor, stopping every few feet when someone greeted Áedán. It didn't make sense. These people adored Áedán. So why would they abandon him when he needed them? I was certain it was a mistake.

Zoe took us into the dining hall. The long wooden tables were full of people eating together. The smell of fresh bread, roasted vegetables, and something sweet permeated the air. I recognized several people I'd met before I left.

When Áedán walked in, conversations paused. Then someone shouted his name, and suddenly half the room was moving toward him. Zephyr and I backed up, leaving Áedán and Zoe to be swallowed by the horde.

I gaped as people hugged Áedán and greeted him like lost family. Zephyr, who looked unwilling to enter the throng, circled me until I picked him up. We watched the joyous reunion together, while I pondered Áedán. He said they were “nice enough“ but this wasn't merely nice. Why had he downplayed his relationship with the Velasca? Maybe because he was hurt by what he saw as their abandonment?

“Too thin.” Mateo held Áedán at arm's length and looked him over like a worried father. “Sit. I'll bring you something to eat.”

The crowd broke up at Mateo's declaration, and Áedán returned to me. We found seats at one of the long tables, Zephyr curling up on Áedán's and my feet. Zoe sat across from us, still beaming. A young man brought Zoe and me plates of food—roasted chicken, vegetables, fresh bread, and butter. Then Mateo appeared with Áedán's plate. On it was a grilled fish instead of chicken. So, he knew about Áedán's preference.

I fetched us some water from the beverage table, and we ate as Zoe chattered on. I watched Áedán, still wondering where the sulky man who hated the Velasca had gone. Then Matteo brought us a plate of chocolate chip cookies. I went to fetch us tea, and Zephyr crawled out from beneath the table, beak lifted. As I reached the beverage table, I heard a commotion and spun around. Zephyr flew past me, a cookie clutched triumphantly in his beak. I looked from him to the table where Áedán was laughing.

After dinner, Zoe offered to take us on a quick tour before we went to find Julian. When Áedán agreed, it surprised me. I thought he'd want to confront Julian as soon as possible. But he strolled between Zoe and me at ease. Despite the hour, the sun hadn't set yet, but the air was cool, making it the perfect time for a tour.

As we walked the circular path toward the cottages, Zoe pointed things out to Áedán. “The grounds have expanded since you were here last. We built new cottages for couples who want to live on the estate. Several are unoccupied.” She glanced pointedly at me.

Áedán raised an eyebrow at her. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” She grinned.

We passed the cottages and the vegetable garden. The smithy was dark and empty. But the clinic was lit.

Zoe motioned to it. “And Ravi finally got his proper clinic.”

“Good for him.” Áedán nodded.

When we came to Baba Yara's workshop, we found the door propped open, and voices drifted out. Two people argued inside with the kind of intensity that suggested they'd been at it for a while.

“You're burning it!” Baba Yara's voice snapped through the air, sharp and exasperated.

“I'm improving it.” Brannoc's voice was full of gruff stubbornness.

“You're committing botanical murder!”

Áedán's expression shifted to something fond. He went to the doorway and leaned in. “Hey, Baba Yara. Brannoc.”

The arguing stopped. I peered around Áedán to see Baba Yara's cluttered apothecary—shelves crammed with jars and bottles, bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling, a workbench covered in mortars and pestles, and mandrake roots hanging in various stages of drying like little men on nooses.

Baba Yara, bundled in her colorful scarves, looked up from the workbench with irritation that immediately melted into warmth. “My boy.” She crossed the room and took Áedán's face in her hands. “Welcome back.”

Brannoc set down a piece of mandrake root that was smoking slightly, and his scowl transformed into something that might have been a smile under all that beard. “You look too thin!”