Breanna sighed. “He needs more work in learning to ground the power.”

“The women in the washhouse were glad to see him.”

She let out a huff of laughter. “I’m sure they were. They’ll have plenty of hot water for laundry without having to stoke fires and sweat. Still, it will be easier on him when he learns to ground his power in a more traditional way.”

Falco smiled, but the smile faded quickly.

“What troubles you, Falco?” Breanna asked. “Do you miss your home?”

He shook his head. “It isn’t a happy place. Hasn’t been since…” He sighed. “Dianna resents having to live at Brightwood to anchor the magic.”

“Dianna?”

“Lucian’s sister.”

“I see,” Breanna said. But she didn’t see, didn’t understand. “She’s from that Clan?”

Falco nodded. “There’s something about her that allows her to anchor the magic in the Old Place to keep the shining road open—as long as enough Fae stay in the Old Place with her.”

“So that Clan doesn’t really need a witch.”

He made a frustrated sound. “She’s the Lady of the Moon, Breanna. The Lady of the Moon. The Huntress. She wants to live in Tir Alainn. She doesn’t want to be burdened with staying in the human world.”

“But she’s doing this for her family.”

He studied her, an odd expression on his face. “If it were your family, and you had to give up something special in order for the rest to have it, you would do it, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Breanna said, puzzled. “They’re family. I’m not saying it would be easy, or that there wouldn’t be times when I would wish it could be otherwise, but, yes, I would do it.”

“That’s what makes you different from the Fae. One of the things, anyway.”

“Falco—”

He shot to his feet, paced a few steps away from her, then returned to the bench. “I don’t understand your ways.” Frustration shimmered in his voice. “If this was a Clan, I would know what was expected of me, but I don’t understand your ways.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“I don’t know if you expect me…if your female kin expect me…” He slumped back down on the bench. “I don’t like Jean. I don’t want to bed Jean.”

Breanna felt her jaw start to drop. “Whoever said you had to?”

“Since I’m visiting your…family…and you haven’t said you want me for yourself, I’m obliged to…to…”

He was on his feet again, pacing in front of her.

“It’s not that your female kin aren’t fine women—most of them—but I—”

“Don’t want to bed them.”

“Yes!”

“You want to bed me.”

“Yes!”

“Why?”