Daughters of Legianne by H.S. Sullivan

Author:H.S. Sullivan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798990134928
Publisher: H.S. Sullivan

Chapter 45

Róisín held one of Caid’s hands in hers and led him across her backyard, toward the forest. The way her heart thundered in her ears reminded her of the time when she was small after her father’s passing, when her mother had taken her to Baijiola. The shells on the beach there were the size of her head, and when she held one to her ears, the steady droning of the deep sound from within filled her head, vibrating through her.

“I guess it makes sense now why you have the best yard in town,” Caid said from behind her. When they stopped at the edge of the woods, he looked down at her feet. “Shouldn’t you put shoes on?”

“My great-grandmother Norah, she was theirs.” She tipped her head back, closing her eyes and opening her senses. The returning of life, albeit small, reached out to greet her and her magic. “When she left this life, it passed on to my grandmother, Aoife. Now…” She drew in a shaky breath, trying to find the courage she needed to go on. “It is I who belongs to them.”

“Who?”

She motioned for him to follow her.

“It’s so quiet.” His voice was so soft that if she hadn’t already had her senses open to the returning life, she wouldn’t have heard his words.

“It’s dying,” she said.

He stopped, turning in a circle to take it in. “It just looks sleepy to me.”

She rested a hand on the entwined cedars, reaching her magic deep.

“We remember him,” the taller one whispered through her skin. “He and his friends used to come and climb all of us when they were small.”

She pictured a small, dirt and grass stained Caid, racing through these very woods, crawling up trees, and smiled. “You used to climb the trees here.”

He faced her, curiosity wrinkling the space between his brows, causing his nose to scrunch. “Yeah, Max, Wyatt, and I. Mrs. Lagree used to always give us cookies and milk for mowing her lawn or helping with her gardens.”

“He kissed a girl by the knotted pine to his left,” the trees told her.

“You kissed someone just there.” She pointed. A small zing of jealousy rippled through her. How much she had wanted to be his first, last, and only shocked her when she used this moment to show him all of who she was.

He took a step forward, his head tipped slightly to one side as he considered her. “How do you know that?”

“I am theirs.” She smoothed her hand over the rough bark.

“You can talk to trees?”

She held out her arms, turning in a slow circle. “I can talk to everything.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I want to be weirded out by this. At least, I think I do. I don’t know. Maybe a part of me is. But I can’t help wanting to know more; as much as you can tell me.”

Her next words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. “Stewart Munson isn’t human.”

“What do you mean? Not human?” His brows slammed down, like angry dashes over his narrowed eyes.

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