The goddess reached out her hand for Vince, and Cinn reluctantly handed him to her. “This one will live again.” She skimmed her fingers across his roots. “I’ve given him the strength he needs.”

“Thank you.” Cinn’s hands shook as she took Vince back. “Teddy?”

Airmid’s gaze was sorrowful. “His memory will be with me forever. He will truly be immortal. His is the sacrifice that must be. And think carefully, Cinn, before you experiment again. Raise many healing plants in your Teddy’s honor.”

Cinn could only nod, because if she tried to say anything, she’d dissolve into great gasping sobs.

Dacian held her tighter, giving her the strength she needed. She didn’t care how long or short a time she had on this earth; she’d spend it loving Dacian. Teddy had taught her a lot about the value of time. It wasn’t how much of it you had, but how you used it. And Dacian would simply have to put up with a withered old hag for a wife before he went on to the rest of his immortal existence.

“That won’t happen, Cinn.” Airmid sounded amused.

“What?”

“I read your mind, and you won’t become a withered old hag.”

Dacian murmured his assurance that he had a fondness for withered old hags.

“I don’t understand.”

Airmid sighed. “You share a part of my godhead. You’re immortal, Cinn.” She glanced from Cinn to Dacian. “I’d say you’re well matched.” The goddess knelt and scooped Teddy’s remains into a small sack; then she stood and disappeared.

Epilogue

Cinn lay in bed, thinking about what had happened since last night. She’d spent all day tending to her plants.

She’d put Vince in a brand-new pot and made him extravagant promises. First she’d buy an old two-story brick home with loads of character. Then she’d plant him beneath the big oak tree in the front yard. He could cover all the ground he wanted. Finally, she’d find him a sexy English ivy plant that could climb the brick walls and share his life.

Cinn had told Vince the English ivy represented female divinity for the druids. Because of the divinity connection, she figured it wouldn’t take much tinkering to make her into the perfect companion for him. And since Airmid thought he was a hero, she’d probably look the other way this time.

Vince had weakly thanked her. He had no memory of having loved Asima. Cinn found that kind of sad. Not for Vince, but for Asima. She suspected the cat needed some love in her life.