Epilogue
Scotland’s Thirteenth Realm
Summer of the Thirteenth Age
“My son.” Magnus struggled to speak through the overpowering wonder of holding his wriggling son in his arms. “Evander, now. Hush, my lad. ’Tis all right. Da has ye.”
The red-faced babe batted and waved his tiny fists, squawking and fussing like a wee angry bird.
“Aye, son, I know ye want yer mother.” He walked with a bouncing gait, trying to appease the angry beastie who had already filled his belly, soiled his clout, gotten a fresh one, then filled his belly again.
“But she needs a bit of sleep, and ye do as well.” He took the bairn to the open window and showed him the moonlit sky.
“See there? ’Tis night, and unless ye’re a wee owl, that is when all fine laddies sleep so they’ll grow into braw warriors who’ll never be bested. ”
Lyla appeared beside him, yawning as she reached for the babe. “Here. Let me walk with him awhile.”
“My love, ye’re about to fall over with weariness. Let me fetch Frannia to walk with him. ’Tis why we brought her in as nursemaid, ye ken?” Reluctantly, Magnus handed Evander over, already missing the babe’s precious warmth as soon as he passed him into Lyla’s arms.
“He needs to be with me,” Lyla said, smiling down at her angry cherub. “I’m his mama, and this is how it’s supposed to be.” She tipped her head at their bed. “Sleep. You’re just as exhausted as I am.”
Hugging them both close, Magnus leaned down and pressed a kiss to his son’s velvety head. “Nay, my love. Moments like these are fleeting, and I’ll not miss a second of them by sleeping them away. He’ll be grown and off riding dragons afore we know it.”
“I cherish this time too,” she whispered, leaning her head against Magnus’s shoulder and shifting with a happy sigh. “This is the contentment I always longed for.”
After a tender kiss to her cheek, he gave a happy sigh of his own. “Aye, my own—a contentment I never dreamed of having.” He kissed her again as Evander caught hold of the tip of his finger and squeezed. “I love ye both with everything and more within me.”
She leaned against him, cuddling closer as they stood there framed by the moonlit window. “And we love you more than you will ever know. We’ll love you forever and a day.”
Seven Cairns
Twenty-first Century Scotland
What some call the “normal” realm
Mairwen smiled down at the tarot card spread she’d dealt to inquire about Magnus and Lyla.
The two had overcome so much, as well as done so much to ensure the safety of the realities and the Highland Veil.
The cards looked promising. Those two, their son, and their future sons and daughters would thrive and do well.
“Thank ye, Mairwen,” Keeva said from the doorway.
Mairwen didn’t bother looking up from the cards as she gathered them back up into the deck. “For what, child?”
“I know the goddess was displeased with me. I know she asked ye to surrender me and choose another apprentice.”
Tucking the cards back inside her sleeve, Mairwen sat taller in her chair at the head of the Divine Weaver’s table, the chair from which she ruled and guided those of the light and the dark.
“Ye did yer best with this latest match. Won Lyla’s trust and convinced her to come to Seven Cairns without too many falsehoods.
While I might not have handled things the same way, that doesn’t mean yer way was wrong.
All that matters is that they are together, and the weave of the Highland Veil is stronger. ”
Keeva nodded, then bowed her head. “I am grateful to have yer guidance, Mairwen. Again, thank ye.”
“Ye’re welcome, child. Go now. ’Tis time to move on to the next match. See if Bedelia has found another lonely soul in need of guidance toward their other half.”
“Aye, Mairwen. I will.” Keeva nodded again, her smile brighter. “To the next match.”
“Aye,” Mairwen echoed. “To the next match.”