He grinned. “I love you, our Merry.”
“And I love you, too, my Galen.”
“I’m jealous,” Aisling said.
We all looked at him. He added hastily, “I don’t mean of Merry in particular, but of your being in love, and being able to lie with a woman. I haven’t dared break my long fast for fear of bespelling some poor woman.”
“I guess it is ironic that to be safe to have sex with anyone, you’d need the woman to already be in love with someone else.”
“Something like that,” he said, and gave a half laugh, but it was more bitter than happy.
Doyle patted his back. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
I remembered why I’d wanted to talk to Aisling. I told him about Bryluen’s effect on Rita the nanny. He sat up, spilling his hair all around him, face serious as he listened. “It is highly unusual for one so young to exhibit such powers.”
“So you didn’t have to worry about hiding your face when you were a baby?”
“No, not until I reached my teens, and then the year that I grew six inches, my shoulders filled out, and I suddenly looked more my age, and that was the beginning of this. I thought I was just very good with women, and then I started attracting women I didn’t want to attract, and we began to figure out what was wrong.”
“Your power is the closest to what Bryluen is doing; can you see if you sense anything?” I asked.
“I will happily look at the baby, but I’m not sure what I can tell you; as I said, my powers didn’t manifest until I was in my teens. It’s very unusual that both your daughters would be displaying powers almost from birth.”
“They are going to be very powerful,” Doyle said.
“I believe you are right,” Aisling said. He began to gather his hair back from us, and to braid it almost absentmindedly. “I will need a covering for my face before I go to the nursery.”
We finally used the remains of Doyle’s shirt to make a mask that went around his lower face and tied securely enough to make Aisling happy with it. He left his hair in two long, thick braids. It reminded me of the way Saraid had worn her hair, though his was longer and seemed thicker. I hadn’t petted her hair, so I wasn’t sure on the thickness. We walked toward the house with Doyle and Galen holding my hands. Galen held out his hand to Aisling. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought he was smiling under the white mask when he took the offered hand. We walked four abreast out of the practice circle, and as soon as we left the magical spell that kept the reporters from seeing inside it, we heard a yell of, “Hey, Princess!”
I looked, and I knew better, but they’d have pictures of me with the three men wearing nothing but exercise shorts—well, pants for Aisling, but either way three mostly nude men and we were all holding hands. There’d be rumors about Galen and Aisling being more than friends soon, because no one in America could understand that men could hold hands and just be friends. I loved my country, but it was a weird culture when it came to touching.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AISLING SAT IN the nursery rocking chair holding Bryluen. He’d gone back to his room to change, so that he wore his usual gauzy veil wrapped around his head; only his eyes showed bare to the world. The veil was layers of nearly transparent gold cloth so that you could see that all that hair was in multiple braids snugged tight to the back of his head. He wore a silk T-shirt that was only a few shades lighter gold than the veil, and then the dress slacks were a darker gold. Just seeing the outfit let me know that Maeve had picked it out. She liked layers of gold and cream. I’d have put him in blue to see if it would bring out the color in his eyes. In the gold his eyes looked grayer than I knew they were.
I knew that Maeve was helping a lot of the sidhe shop for modern clothes; one, because she enjoyed shopping, and two, because she would often use the shopping trip as a way of getting to know them and seeing if she wanted to sleep with them. That hadn’t been an option with Aisling for her, because Maeve was still grieving for her dead husband; that would not keep her safe from his magic.
She stood across the nursery watching him as he rocked Bryluen. The look on Maeve’s face was speculative, and the look was enough; she would have pursued him as a lover if she could have done it safely.
She caught me watching her, and smiled brilliantly at me. It was her public smile, beautiful, vibrantly sincere, and it was her version of a “blank cop face.” She could hide any emotion behind that shining smile. I knew it, and she knew I knew it, so either she didn’t care, or her emotions were so strong about Aisling that she couldn’t hide it any better from me. Or maybe I just knew Maeve that well now?
Little Liam was playing near her feet, rolling a ball along the floor for the dogs to chase. The terriers chased it in a happy, barking, snarling pack. No dogs were allowed in the exercise room, so when Rhys was there his terriers had started coming to the nursery, or following Liam around, or Galen, or me. Minnie and Mungo, my own pair of greyhounds, were pressed to my side, so I could play with their ears and stroke their heads. They usually didn’t press like this unless they sensed I was nervous. Why was I nervous? Because watching Aisling made me wonder if we were going to have to veil our daughter like Aisling. The thought of having to hide her sweet face from the world, so we could save the world from her, was somehow horribly sad.
Maeve came to me and touched my shoulder. “Your face, so sad; what did you just think to take the light from your eyes?”