Page 23 of A Fine Scottish Spell (The Magical Matchmakers of Seven Cairns #2)

“It would probably be best that I not teach you about her diet,” Nicnevin said as she generously returned Emily’s gracious nod.

“I will tell you, though, that she feeds but once a Fae year and only within the boundaries of my kingdom—upon her prey that lives there.” She cut a sideways look at Gryffe’s warriors.

“Unless provoked here in Scotland, of course. If anyone threatens ye or my grandchildren once they are born, Grimalkin will be most happy to make exceptions and dine on the entrails of our enemies.”

“Eww.” Emily scratched the panther under the chin, making the great cat’s long whiskers twitch. “Let’s try to avoid that here at the keep, okay?”

Golden eyes partially closed in pure bliss, Grimalkin purred louder and slowly moved her head to guide Emily’s scratchings to the perfect spot.

“She reminds me of a cat I had when I was little.” A wave of homesickness sent the threat of tears.

Emily blinked hard and fast to keep them at bay.

With the passing days, the sadness came less often, but it still came, and when it did, it hurt.

Badly. She swallowed hard and tried to shake herself out of it.

“My kitty was named Binxer. She lived to the ripe old age of twenty-two before she crossed the rainbow bridge.”

“Crossed the rainbow bridge?” Gryffe asked gently.

She shook her head. “I’ll explain later.” She was too emotional at the moment to give a lesson in twenty-first century vernacular. She had loved Binxer so very much, as all her family had.

Grimalkin rubbed closer, nudging and purring louder as if understanding her pain and trying to offer healing.

“The heartache again, my love?” Gryffe knelt and wrapped an arm around her. “Cry if ye need to. There is no shame in yer tears.”

“I don’t need to cry in front of everyone,” she whispered, doing her best to sniff them back and concentrate on scratching Grimalkin’s sleek head. “They’ll think I’m a weenie.”

“A what?”

“A weak, whiny person without a spine.”

“No one would ever think that of ye.” With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed his warriors, hugging her closer as the garden emptied of everyone except themselves, Nicnevin, and Inalfie.

Mrs. Thistlebran had taken the opportunity to scurry back inside.

Gryffe kissed her cheek. “And now ye not only have a husband who is half Unseelie, ye have one of the kingdoms fiercest beasties pledging to stay at yer side.”

“I see my little Binxer whenever I look in her eyes.” The tears spilled over, burning trails down her face chilled by the icy wind. She swiped them away. “Sorry. I know you’re tired of this. So am I.”

“I am tired of nothing. Yer tears simply show me when ye love, ye love hard and never let go. For that—I am grateful because I am blessed to be loved by ye as well.”

Grimalkin turned and glared at Nicnevin while barely flipping the tip of her tail.

“What?” the Dark Queen asked the animal.

The great cat rumbled with something akin to a mouthy growl.

The goddess of magic threw up her hands. “I dinna ken if it will work or not, but I will offer it.”

“You speak Fae panther ?” Emily asked, silently noting that she had never imagined herself asking such a strange question.

“Of course I do.” Nicnevin nodded at Gryffe. “As does he, when he bothers to listen.”

Gryffe didn’t comment. He simply narrowed his eyes at her.

“Do not think at me in that tone.” The Dark Fae Queen shot back a narrow eyed glare of her own.

“You know, it is very rude to leave me out of the conversation.” Emily rose to her feet, saddened by the loss of the sweet little kitten, while at the same time enamored of Grimalkin, the powerful Fae panther.

Grimalkin immediately returned to the form of the tiny feline and leapt into her arms.

She turned to Nicnevin. “So the cat can read my mind, too?”

“Rest easy. None of us can read yer mind. Ask my son if ye dinna believe me.” Nicnevin nodded at the small beastie. “But Grimalkin can feel what ye wish of her. Most animals can. Mortals are simply too dull to realize it.”

With her head once again whirling with the strangeness of this world that was like hers but not—Emily scratched the kitten behind the ears and tried to focus on the conversation between the panther and the dark goddess.

“What did she want you to try? The thing you said you didn’t know whether or not it would work. ”

“The Dreaming,” Nicnevin said. “Ye could visit?—”

“Absolutely not!” Gryffe stepped between them. “Ye canna take her there. The place is maddening. It will make her miss her family worse than she already does.”

“What is the Dreaming?” Emily stepped around him, still hugging the kitten. If whatever that was would enable her to visit her parents, see her brother, or check in with Jessica, she wanted to give it a try. “Is it something only the Fae can access? Remember, I have a smidgen of Spell Weaver DNA.”

The look he gave her told her loud and clear that he was remembering all the fires she had set every time she’d attempted to use magic.

“Do I have to cast a spell to get there?” A blast of cold wind hit her, convincing her this conversation would be more pleasant if they continued it inside, out of the cold weather. “Let’s go in, and you and your mother can explain.”

Gryffe tipped a leery nod at the kitten. “Ye’re bringing that inside with ye?”

“Grimalkin is not a that, and yes, she is coming inside. It’s cold out here. She might even like a saucer of cream in this form.”

He turned and bared his teeth at his mother.

“I did not summon her,” Nicnevin reminded in a singsong voice that made Emily cringe. If Gryffe wasn’t angry with his mother before, he would be now.

“Grimalkin and I are going inside.” Emily took off toward the keep at a determined march. “Come on, Inalfi. You are Fae. You can explain the Dreaming since they’re too busy sparring.”

“Aye, m’lady.” Inalfi caught up and marched alongside her. The way she kept stealing wary glances at Grimalkin made Emily even more thankful that the odd, magical furbaby had chosen her as a bestie. It never hurt to have friends that others respected .

“Now, what is the Dreaming?” she asked Inalfi while attempting to ignore the continued arguing of Gryffe and his mother as they followed along behind them. It was like listening to her brothers fighting over who got the choicest cut of meat at the dinner table.

“’Tis hard to explain.” Inalfi wrinkled her nose as if the thought of it smelled bad. “Ye ken how yer dreams often dinna make sense? How anything can happen? Right side up can be upside down, and about the time ye figure it out, it all changes?”

Emily nodded, remembering some of her wilder dreams that even her psychiatrist mother had written down in an attempt to analyze them for one of her many published papers.

“In the Dreaming, ye visit others’ dreams where the only control ye have is to either stay or go.” Inalfi shuddered. “Oft times, the place can be verra frightening.”

“Do the ones you visit know you’re there?

” One of Emily’s greatest worries was that her family had become overwrought because they didn’t know what had happened to her.

She wanted to reassure them, tell them she was all right, and somehow let them know about Gryffe.

While she missed everyone with a vengeance, she hated the thought of making them unhappy and causing them pain.

“Could I speak to my mother? Would she know it was me, really me?”

“’Tis hard to say, my lady. She might cling to it with the hope it was truly yerself, but then again, if she nay believes in such things, she might explain it away as just a wishful dream.”

That was Emily’s fear. Both her parents were extraordinarily pragmatic and down to earth.

The only one she might convince was Jessa.

If she could get anyone to believe it was her in the Dreaming, it would be her friend who had traveled back in time to find her own fated mate.

She nodded to herself while idly scratching Grimalkin’s ears and walking faster.

Yes. That’s what she would do. She would try to visit Jessa and have her explain everything to not only her parents but to the Weavers in Seven Cairns—the Seven Cairns she knew and loved and that knew and loved her back.

Maybe then they would find a way to her so she could at least use the portals to visit those she had lost.

Then, life would be perfect.