He didn’t like Tomnat. They’d formed no friendship bond, much less affection. But her anguished cries still tore through his heart. Every screech and sob made him want to rush into the roundhouse and take her pain away. He paced back and forth, arguing with himself about braving Brigit’s certain wrath, or remaining outside to suffer the wails of the mother of his child. Suffer? How could he consider what he went through suffering when Tomnat’s voice ripped at the walls in her torment?
The long day caught up with him, and he curled up against the outside wall. He hadn’t even remembered to bring a blanket, but the late spring evening remained mild. He lost the battle with sleep while wishing Bran would curl up against his back.
Chapter Fifteen
A baby’s squalling cry broke his slumber.
Fingin rubbed his hands across his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The cry didn’t sound like Conall’s. The realization that Tomnat must have given birth made him jump to his feet, and then catch the wall to keep himself from falling over. Despite a long sleep, he still had little energy.
Upon entering the roundhouse, he noticed several things. Brigit held a red-faced babe, Conall slept next to her in a pile, and Tomnat had vanished. She must have gone to the river to wash.
He smiled at Brigit, grateful for the goddess’ attention to his prayer and his family. “Thank you f-for your help.”
“You’re in well over your head with this lot. Now, would you like to hold your daughter? Tomnat has named her. Lainn, meet your father.”
She placed the tiny baby in his arms, but the babe kept her eyes screwed closed, no matter how much cooing and tickling Fingin tried to open them. He contented himself by rocking her against his chest. A son and a daughter. Conall and Lainn. His own precious family. He glanced up, looking for Tomnat.
“Ah yes, about that. Tomnat has already returned to Faerie.”
He blinked, not understanding. “What? Did she f-forget something? She’s been here for m-m-moons. Why did she need to go fetch it now?”
“She’s not coming back, Fingin. Tomnat’s done what she set out to do.”
“She wanted b-babies. Why would she abandon them?”
Brigit smiled and put her arms out for the babe. Fingin didn’t want to give her up, so held her more closely. Brigit shrugged. “Tomnat thought she wanted babies. She did everything in her power, pulled on all her favors, to make that happen. However, sometimes what we want is not what we need. Once she bore her child, a crying baby she must pay attention to every day, all day, then faced seasons doing the same in this mortal world with a creature she barely tolerates, she realized how much work they would be. She and I spoke before she left.”
What woman would abandon her children without a backward glance? No human woman, of course. Fae wasn’t human. He should not ascribe human motives or needs to a member of the Fae. Fingin shook his head and peered again into his daughter’s face. Her eyelids seemed translucent, finer than any butterfly wing. A bee buzzed into the roundhouse and lit upon her forehead. She wrinkled her brow, and he waved the bee away, lest it sting her perfect skin.
“I’ve someone coming to help you, but you must find a human wife, someone willing to help you raise your children. Now, I’ll send prospects your way.” Brigit rose, brushing some dried rushes from her skirts.
Fingin’s panic rose. “Wait! D-don’t leave yet! How do I f-f-feed her?”
“I cannot stay, but Adhna is on his way. He’ll have milk, blankets, anything you need for the child. He’s rather competent, for a male.”
Fingin glanced at Conall, sleeping next to the hearth, and at wee Lainn, burbling in his arms, her eyes still closed tight. It didn’t bother him overmuch that Tomnat hadn’t even bid him farewell. They’d been in a forced partnership, not one built out of love or even affection. She tolerated his presence as a necessity, and he remained with her out of duty. It bothered him that she’d been able to abandon her children, the flesh of her flesh. Did Fae possess no maternal instincts at all? Or was Tomnat an exception? He wanted to imagine Airiu would be more tender-hearted.
“Airiu! I must let her know I’m f-free!” But no one answered.
Before the darkness claimed the night, Adhna arrived. He carried a small bundle, smaller than Fingin’s daughter, who now fussing and grunting in his arms. “Greetings to you, young human! I’ve a gift and a message for you.”
“A message? From Airiu?”
He chuckled. “No, Airiu couldn’t send a message. However, Bran sent you this.” He held out his arms, and a squirming days-old puppy opened brown eyes, melting Fingin’s heart. He wanted to cuddle the small dog, but his arms remained filled with his daughter, who he didn’t want to relinquish.
“A p-p-puppy? Is he Bran’s?”
Adhna grinned, his eyes crinkling with suppressed joy. “Indeed, she is. Bran found a Faerie hound he is fond of. The puppy is called Brí. Bran asked if you would care for her as you cared for him.”
“Tell me B-b-bran at least ate Bodach’s clothing? P-peed in his shoes?”
With a chuckle, Adhna grinned. “As a Fae, I’d never lie directly to a mortal. Therefore, I cannot tell you Bran has refrained from such sabotage.”
With a wide grin, Fingin looked around at his new family. In turns, he hugged Brí, his son, and his daughter. He’d subtracted two friends,
