23
ONE MORE SURPRISE
MURIEL
The afternoon sunstreamed through the windows of the Glas Tann, making dust motes dance in the air. Muriel sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by a multitude of plants that had tripled in size. Apparently, making love with Brandon had resulted in rampant, exuberant growth.
She was repotting a particularly enthusiastic philodendron while Brandon reorganized the window display. It felt so domestic. Peaceful. Safe.
“We should probably trim some of these back,” Brandon said, eyeing the lemon tree that now touched the ceiling. “Beatrice is getting ambitious.”
“Don't you dare. She's perfect.”
“She's massive.”
“You only have yourself to blame for how big she's gotten.”
“How do you figure that?”
“If you hadn’t been so…ardentlast night…” she let the sentence hang. “In fact,” she waved her hand to encompass the space, “this is all your doing.”
He grinned smugly. The man knew how good he was.
Then the bell above the door chimed.
Muriel looked up, hands still covered in potting soil, and her whole body went rigid.
A man stood in the doorway. He was tall, distinguished, with silver-shot auburn hair. He wore an expensive suit that screamed power and authority, and his magical signature was controlled to the point of near invisibility.
“Silas Corvus,” she whispered.
Brandon was moving before she finished the name, positioning himself between her and the door. His magic flared, defensive wards crackling to life. “What do you want?”
“There's no need for dramatics, Mr. Emrys.” Silas's voice was cultured, calm. “I'm not here to fight.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked sharply.
“To speak with my niece.” Silas's gaze moved past Brandon to Muriel. “If she'll permit it.”
The word hit Muriel like a physical blow, making it hard to breathe. “Yourniece?”
The newcomer nodded. “Declan Rourke was my brother.”
Brandon's shock matched her own. But underneath it, suspicion. Deep, careful suspicion.
Muriel stood slowly, wiping potting soil on her jeans. “You came to my cottage weeks ago. You never mentioned we were family.”
“I couldn't.” Silas's expression tightened. “Medraut and his team were already watching you. If I'd revealed our connection, it would have put you in even more danger. They would have known I was compromised.”
“Compromised,” Brandon repeated. “You're Consilium.”
“I am.” Silas met his eyes steadily. “Which is precisely why I can protect her. Why I've been trying to protect her for close to thirty years.”
“Thirty years,” Muriel breathed. “Since?—”
“Since your father died.” Silas's voice went rough. “He told me about your mother. That he’d been assigned to investigate reports of a powerful natural witch and ended up falling in love with her. He asked me to look after Siobhan if anything happened to him.”
Muriel's throat tightened. “And then?”