“If I could have rung your neck before you took your first breath . . . I would have. And she knew it.”

“You could always try now. I’m right here.”

“That will be unnecessary,” another voice chimed in and all the witches fell to their knees—even Haldane. The older woman walked from behind Éibhear, smiled at him and Izzy. “Hello to you both.”

“Who are you?” Izzy demanded.

“The name is Elisa. I’m a Nolwenn Elder.” She leaned in and whispered to Izzy—although Éibhear could hear her well enough—“And your great grandmother.”

Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “You must be a million years old.”

“Izzy.”

She looked up at Éibhear. “What?”

Izzy could see some of Talaith in this witch’s face. Not as much as there was in Haldane’s, but she could see the resemblance. In her eyes, her cheekbones.

“Mum never mentioned you.”

“She had no reason to. I gave her little thought. I assumed that she, like her mother, like my mother, like I, would follow the path of the Nolwenn. What was there for me to do with her until she was older and had some real power?”

“Because she’s your blood? Because you are her grandmother?”

Elisa laughed. “You are truly your mother’s child.”

“And proud of it.”

“I know. I can see it. Feel it even.”

She motioned to the witches and guards filling the hall. “All of you . . . out.”

“My lady—” one of them began, but dark brown eyes unfaded by age locked on the witch and she immediately closed her mouth and bowed her head.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Elisa ordered. It took less than a minute for that chamber to clear out.

The witch faced them. “Tea?”

“Ooh,” Éibhear said. “I’d love a cuppa.”

Izzy spun around, her hands raised, her mouth open, top lip curled.

“What?” Éibhear demanded. “I like tea!”

Chapter 37

Izzy was still nursing her first cup of tea while Éibhear—now in his human form and dressed—and Elisa were well into their second. The witch had also pulled out biscuits and she was pleasant enough, but, at the moment, it meant nothing to Izzy. Nothing. Not after what had just happened between Izzy and her grandmother. That horrid bitch. Izzy had always known that woman wasn’t worthy of having even a second of Rhi’s precious time. But then Izzy kept going back to the bigger issue of what Rhi did need in her life.

“Your rage comes off you in waves, Iseabail.”

Izzy looked up at her great grandmother, Elisa. Based on what she could guess, Elisa was a good six hundred years old, and yet she looked no more than fifty winters or so. Izzy had to admit . . . she liked the idea of going into her sixth- or seven-hundredth winter looking this good.

Other than that, though, she was just pissy about the whole thing.

“I hated that woman before I ever saw her,” Izzy said plainly, “and now I hate her even more.”

“You’re so like your mother. She was honest like you.”

“She still is.”

“And Haldane hated her for it.”

“Then I’m glad I could carry on my mother’s legacy.”

“So am I. Of course, I never liked my daughter much either. So it seems you’re carrying on my legacy as well.” She held up a plate. “Biscuits?”

Izzy took the plate from her and threw the whole thing against the wall. Biscuits and all.

“Oy!” Éibhear snapped. “I was going to eat those.”

When Izzy glowered at him, he quickly added, “Well . . . they did look a bit dry.”

“Don’t worry,” Elisa said with a smile. “I have more.” She stood and went to a small cabinet in what Izzy assumed was her study. There were books from floor to ceiling and crates filled with witch supplies. At least that’s what she guessed they were since the materials looked like the kinds of things that she’d seen her mother and Morfyd using every full moon.

Elisa came back to the table and placed another plate of biscuits in front of Éibhear. Once done, she sat at the table, her smile still in place.

“So,” Elisa said, acting as if Izzy’s temper hadn’t snapped like a twig, “you want us to take little Rhianwen in.”

“She’s not an orphan I’m trying to palm off on you lot.”

“No. She’s a powerful being that you have no control over.”

Izzy studied her great grandmother. “Maybe.”

“But you think we can help with that?”

“My mother thinks you can. I have no idea what you can do.”

“We can teach your sister to control the power within her. We can make her safe to be around those she loves.”

“And you know all this . . . how?”

“Your sister’s power radiates for thousands of leagues. Even the mages as far off as the Eastlands feel her power—and fear it.”

“So you’re going to try to make her a Nolwenn then?”

“That’s the one thing I can assure you will never happen.”

Feeling slightly insulted, Izzy had to ask, “And why is that?”

“I was born to this life, Iseabail. So were Haldane and your mother. And, if Talaith had stayed, she’d be a Nolwenn. Trained in the arts from birth. But your sister, like you, can’t jump in now. She’s sixteen winters, past her first blood—”