Chapter 20

“Maybe it’s something about this house,” Emerald said a few moments later as she, Bowen, and Tamsyn all sat in the little,

older kitchen Madoc had shown Bowen and Tamsyn to when they’d first arrived at Tywyll House in their own time.

It was warm and smelled pleasantly of spiced things, but Bowen couldn’t appreciate that right now given that he currently

had his face pressed to the wood of the table, his eyes shut.

“You did a great job, Emerald,” Tamsyn said, and Bowen could hear her pat the younger girl on the back. “I mean... very

thorough.”

“To be fair, they were only kissing when I ran out to get you two,” Emerald replied. “I didn’t think they’d already be—”

“Stop it,” Bowen said, the words muffled by the table.

He wasn’t sure how long it might take him to forget the sight of his grandparents...

No, he didn’t even want to finish that thought.

Not even when Tamsyn laid her hand on his back and said, “Retinal trauma aside, this is a good thing, Bowen! We did it. Harri and Elspeth are definitely—like, really, really definitely—back together.”

Bowen grunted.

“How did you manage it?” Tamsyn asked Emerald, and Bowen sat up to see the teenager practically preening as she leaned back

in her chair with a steaming teacup.

“Simple, really. Same way I’m always tricking Madoc into hiding in those same passageways. I pretend I’ve seen something very

interesting, I get them to go in with me, and then I lock them in until they start screaming. Or, in Harri and Elspeth’s case...

Well, I suppose that also involved some screaming.”

Bowen ground the heels of his hands into his eyes with a sigh. “I’d almost stopped picturing it, I really had.”

“Well, we commend your service, Emerald,” Tamsyn said, pouring her own cup of tea, “but I really feel the need to reiterate

that you’re a very frightening child.”

“I am!” Emerald said happily, then leaned forward. “So now will you tell me why it was so important you get those two back

together? Is it because of something magical?”

“Something like that,” Bowen said, and Emerald screwed up her face.

“It’s really bloody awful being a non-witch in a family of witches. No one tells you anything interesting about magic because

they assume you won’t understand it, or they’re afraid you’ll try it.”

Bowen was about to give her some sort of bland comfort, some assurance that just because she didn’t have magic, that didn’t mean she wasn’t important. Look at Tamsyn, the most wonderful woman in the world as far as he was concerned, and she couldn’t do magic.

But then he stopped, something about her words tickling something in the back of his brain, some memory.

The book she’d been hiding.

He’d assumed it was just a romance novel, something scandalous Lady Meredith might have given her a hard time about reading,

but maybe it was something more.

“What was that book you had?” he asked her. “The one you’re hiding in a copy of Rebecca ?”

The guilty expression that flashed across her face told him he was right: this was more than just a filched copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover or something similar.

“Just something I found in the library here,” Emerald said, reaching into the pocket of her dungarees and pulling out a rolled-up

booklet.

Magic and Everyday Spells was written in swirling font on the front, and when Bowen paged through it, he frowned. None of it appeared to be legitimate

magic, but there was just enough in there to make him worry. Some of the words, the incantations... they weren’t right,

but they were close enough that in the wrong hands...

“Confiscating this for now,” he told her, and Emerald gave him such a ferocious scowl he almost sat back in his chair.

“You’re not my father,” she told him with an imperious lift of her chin. “ And I just did you a huge favor, so how is it fair to go stealing my things?”

“She’s got you there,” Tamsyn murmured, sipping her tea, and Bowen glared at her.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am unless you’re being high-handed, and you kind of are right now.”

St. Bugi’s balls, he had sounded a bit like his father. Or Wells. Wasn’t sure which was worse, so in the end, he handed Emerald

back her book.

“Just don’t go around saying any of the spells in there,” he said. “No telling where all that was cobbled together from. If

you’re serious about studying magic, I can talk to someone about sending you to Penhaven in America. It’s for witches, mostly,

but they have a human side of the school as well, and I’m sure someone knows what to do with a human from a witch family who

wants to learn magic.”

“Really?” Emerald’s eyes were big as saucers, the hero worship in them clear as day, and Bowen was surprised how nice that

felt.

“Really,” he promised. “But stay out of trouble.”

“I will,” Emerald said, nodding so hard it was a wonder her head didn’t snap clean off.

Then she was up from the table, the chair shrieking over the slate as she shoved it back, and Bowen and Tamsyn watched her

vanish into the dark hall.

“You’re going to be a good dad someday,” Tamsyn said, and the words startled him so much that he almost jumped.

Him, a da.

It was nothing he’d ever thought of before, nothing he’d ever wanted or even thought he could have. Doing archaic magic on

a mountain in North Wales didn’t exactly lend itself to babies or small children.

But a child.

One with Tamsyn’s pretty eyes and smart mouth, someone to teach magic to, a cousin for wee Taran.

Oh, Christ, he suddenly ached for it, but then, as always, he remembered Declan.

He had a duty to fulfill to that man, and until it was done, everything else had to wait.

Even Tamsyn.

He didn’t say any of this out loud, but Tamsyn reached over and took his hand before asking gently, “Bowen, has he ever asked

you to devote everything to helping him? To put your life on pause until he’s back or released or whatever the end of all

this is?”

Bowen squeezed her hand, not answering for a long time. No, Declan had never asked it of him. Had only ever blamed himself

for the accident, really. He’d been the one to say the words, after all; the one who wanted to try the spell.

But if Bowen had found the right words to stop him, if he hadn’t sourced the ingredients...

If, if, if.

“That’s what you hired me for, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re looking for some artifact that will reverse it or bring him back,

but you’re just throwing spaghetti at the wall right now, and sending me to get the spaghetti.” She shrugged before reaching

up to pull another little bit of bark from her hair. “Not that I mind being the spaghetti fetcher, but I wish you’d told me

that’s what I was doing. Maybe I could’ve helped or asked around a little more specifically.”

“Maybe,” Bowen acknowledged. “But... it’s not always easy for me to open up to people.”

“This is incredibly shocking news,” Tamsyn deadpanned, making him chuckle, and he squeezed her hand again.

“Not like you do a lot of it, either, my girl. I still haven’t heard just why you were so adamant about never getting involved

with people you work with.”

“And you still won’t,” she said, leaning closer to lift their joined hands off the table to kiss his knuckles. “Saving that

one for when we’re back home. Which...” She looked around the rapidly dimming kitchen. Outside, the sun was setting, and

there was a delicate lacing of frost forming on the window. “Shouldn’t we... I don’t know, be poofed back or whatever by

now? I mean, if we were sent back to make sure your grandparents get married, mission more than accomplished, right?”

Bowen had been thinking something similar, but didn’t mention it because it would mean he’d once again have to talk about

what he’d seen in that passageway, and he might never be ready for that.

“Of course, I guess we did just see them banging,” Tamsyn mused, and yup, there it was again, the Indelible Image of his grandparents shagging against

a wall like their lives depended on it. “Maybe they’re not officially back together yet,” Tamsyn went on. “So we don’t get to go back until that ring is on that finger, you know?”

“Maybe,” Bowen agreed, but it was bothering him a bit, that nothing had changed now that Harri and Elspeth were—graphically—back

together.

Unless that was just some sort of Goodbye Shag, and he and Tamsyn still had their work cut out for them.

Or...

“You’re still thinking about Carys and YSeren, aren’t you?” Tamsyn asked, and Bowen glanced up at her from beneath his brows.

“Hmmph,” he said.

“Which means yes, ” Tamsyn replied, propping her chin on her hand. “I’ll find a way to ask Lady Meredith about it provided we don’t get poofed

back before I have a chance.” Then she leaned back, stretching her arms. “But I don’t think I have to, because I’m telling

you, we’re gonna find out it wasn’t just getting them back together, it was getting them married . And that’s not until the solstice.”

“Which will only give us two more nights to figure out what to do if we’re wrong,” Bowen reminded her.

Standing up, Tamsyn came around behind his chair to press a kiss on the top of his head. “Don’t be such a pessimist. Now come

on, let’s go get cleaned up.”

Tilting his head back, Bowen looked at her gorgeous upside-down face.

“When you say ‘cleaned up’...”

“I mean I want you to take me back to that big bathtub and fuck me again, yes,” she answered.

Bowen shot to his feet so quickly, he nearly clocked Tamsyn on the chin, making her laugh as she gave an exaggerated stumble

backward.

Arms around each other’s waists, they made their way down the narrow, dark hallways to the main staircase, the smell of candles

and evergreen strong, and when Bowen glanced out a nearby window, he saw that a light snow was falling.

“It’s really lovely here when there’s not a ghost screaming about everything,” Tamsyn observed, and Bowen nodded, but he was

slightly distracted by the figures coming up the front steps.

It was Harri and Elspeth, Elspeth wearing a long white cape with a fur-trimmed hood, Harri in a dark suit.

“What is it?” Tamsyn asked, but Bowen was already tugging her down the hallway.

They reached the main entrance just as the butler opened the door to a laughing and snow-dusted Harri and Elspeth, who both

turned wide smiles on Bowen and Tamsyn when they spotted them.

“Oh, you two! Wonderful, you can be the first to congratulate us!”

“Congratulate?” Bowen echoed, and Elspeth held out her left hand, now weighed down by the heavy cabochon ruby that all Penhallow brides wore.

Bowen had just seen it on Vivienne’s hand a few weeks ago/several decades from now.

“Harri and I had a little mishap today,” Elspeth said, sharing a knowing look at Harri that, had Bowen’s entire heart not

been sinking somewhere north of his toes, would’ve made him wish yet again that Bleach for Eyes was a thing one could buy.

“And we got to talking, and we realized we’ve both been so very stupid. Well, mostly me, I have been stupid.”

“How dare you talk about my wife that way, pistols at dawn,” Harri said to her, making Elspeth throw her head back with laughter

as Harri leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Wife?”

Now it was Tamsyn’s turn to repeat things while looking vaguely ill, but luckily Harri and Elspeth were so caught up in each

other, they didn’t notice.

“Wife,” Harri confirmed, pulling Elspeth in front of him and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Once we realized what utter

fools we’d been, we didn’t want to put off being wed for one more moment. The High Witch who was supposed to come marry us

had obviously made other plans when we told him the wedding was off, but luckily, there was a woman in the village who’s able

to perform weddings, and so she did. Right there in her little cottage with the only witness a big black cat named—”

“Sir Bedivere,” Bowen and Tamsyn said as one, and Elspeth laughed again, nodding.

“Oh, so you know her, then! Lovely woman, and so thrilled to marry us. Honestly, I think she may have been more excited than

we were!”

Lowri, dear heart she was, would have been thrilled.

She would’ve thought she was saving us, Bowen thought, and Tamsyn put her hand on his arm, squeezing.

“Now,” Harri said, and then stooped to scoop Elspeth into his arms. “If you’ll excuse us.”

She cried out, still laughing, and clutched at his jacket. “Harri, really,” she said, but Harri was already heading for the

stairs, practically running, as Elspeth bounced in his arms, and there was a part of Bowen that wanted to be happy for them.

It had been true, after all, in its own unique way. His grandparents were a love story, just a little fierier than he’d been led to believe. They’d found their way back to each other, and wasn’t

that a beautiful thing?

It was.

And so he was happy for them.

Completely happy.

And also totally fucked.