Brenna rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that, you dirty-minded amadan. Ciaran, hurry. And bring that silver bowl.”
Odran turned his sightless eyes on her. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
“He deserves to know,” Brenna said.
“He’ll survive the conversation, but I doubt you will.” Niamh flicked a leaf at her.
“I think you’ll find Brenna is made of sturdier stuff than we give her credit for,” Deagan said.
Niamh giggled. “She’s just so tiny. Like a fae--”
“Don’t go calling their attention down on us,” Odran said. “Go on, Brenna. Be gentle with the lad.”
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