“Does your staff make a fuss over Gwenn knowing her way around the kitchen?” Breanna asked, thinking about how their housekeeper, Glynis, was always arguing with her about what was and wasn’t proper work for a lady.

Donovan grinned. “The first time Gwenn wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, they were appalled. My cook, housekeeper, and butler cornered me and told me I simply had to explain to my lady wife that gentry ladies didn’t do that.”

Breanna leaned forward. “What did you say?”

“I told them I’d just married her. If they wanted her out of the kitchen, they could explain it to her.”

“So what happened?” Breanna said when it didn’t seem like Donovan was going to say anything else.

“She still wanders down to the kitchen to make her own tea when it suits her, so what do you think happened?”

Gwenn came out of the kitchen with two more plates and mugs, so Breanna held her tongue and ate her toast while she watched the storm come in.

“It’s moving fast,” Gwenn said.

Breanna just nodded. The edge of the storm was in the Old Place now. She watched the lightning, heard the thunder. As the first breath of wind flying before the storm reached her, she shivered. “It must go from one end of the Mother’s Hills to the other.”

“If it’s still this strong, it must have been a mean bitch of a storm wherever it started,” Gwenn said.

Breanna noticed the way Donovan frowned at his wife’s choice of words, but she wasn’t sure if he disapproved of the language or if he was considering what it might mean for Gwenn to refer to a storm in that way.

She set her mug and plate on the ground and stepped forward. Gwenn did the same thing before looking back at Donovan. “You should go inside. You’ll get wet out here.”

“Will you go inside?” Donovan asked.

Gwenn shook her head. “The storm is out here. The message is out here.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Breanna glanced at Liam, saw the stubborn look in his eyes, and didn’t waste the effort to persuade him to do what they both knew he wouldn’t do. Besides, the storm required her attention now.

She watched the wall of rain come toward her, tasted it on the wind. Tasted the power still entwined with it. She shivered. “This wasn’t a natural storm.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Gwenn agreed.

“What do you mean it wasn’t natural?” Liam said.

Breanna half turned toward him. “It didn’t form on its own. Someone created it—and released it.”

“Mother’s mercy,” Donovan whispered.

“It wasn’t formed in the Mother’s Hills,” Gwenn said thoughtfully. “Somewhere in the midlands, I think.”

“Why would someone do that?” Donovan said, his voice sharp and worried.