Chapter Eighteen
Dara woke from her own dreams. When Celeste had sent her away to rest, she had just been able to check up on her sisters. She found them to be in the same state as she. She looked in on them now and found them all soundly sleeping. Meifen, she noticed, was not sleeping. He and Kingdom were guarding them.
"Your aunt will be back today," Celeste told her at the breakfast table.
"Great," Dara grumbled. "She'll end up coming here. Terah's settling in well here. I hope she doesn't start becoming overly influenced by Aunt Caryn again. Molly is a good influence on her. She's actually starting to think for herself. She's also very good with Haley."
"I noticed you holding your sister last evening," Celeste mentioned.
"She's very sweet," Dara said earnestly. "She doesn't even cry—much."
"I think Terah needed more companionship," Celeste told her.
"I think so, too," Dara squirmed. "She tried with us, but we were just too hurt because of mama and papa being gone—and way too busy."
"I think she understands that," Celeste assured her. "You all used to be friends. You probably will again."
"I hope so," Dara nodded. "She is a really nice person—when she's not quoting Aunt Caryn at us."
"This whole thing was a shock to her as well," Celeste reminded her. "She had no idea when she signed on that Aine was going to die. She loved your mother and father, too."
"This whole mess just isn't right!" Dara said angrily.
"Life is not fair," Celeste grumbled, and then frowned, "Caryn is bringing over a large amount of people with her. I have no idea who they are. What could she be thinking? The only ones who have the Raven are Arlen and Hagan. Hagan, like you, was born with the raven. I wonder why Brody isn't with them."
"She's thinking that she owns our properties and the house," Dara told her. "She's wrong! So how do we mark people with the raven who we find trust worthy enough to move about on the other side of the wall?"
"I don't know," Celeste told her. "It's my understanding that the mark has been a part of the family for many generations. Glenna might know. It might be a priestess blessing thing."
"Can you ask her?" Dara sighed. "I think we're going to need to know, especially if our aunt insists on bringing strangers home."
"Like her nieces," Celeste's eyebrow raised. "Don't forget about bringing home a strange Chinese man."
"But he was so cute," Dara laughed, "and what a marvelous gift he was bearing."
"Are you missing them?" Celeste asked.
"Yes," Dara's smile slipped. "I couldn't talk to Alana last night. We were all too tired. I miss them all, but I miss her to the point it hurts. We've never been away from each other like this before."
"Do you resent it?" Celeste asked.
"No," Dara said firmly. "I know we will be together soon, and being with you and Stefan, has been wonderful."
"I'm glad," Celeste hugged her. "I also feel blessed having this time with you."
"And blessed," Dara teased, "having this time with Stefan?"
"Oh yes," Celeste's tone got sultry.
"And Glenna?" Dara asked.
"That's different," Celeste answered. "We grew up together with the priestesses. We've been friends and lovers since around twelve. I would never accept any man who couldn't also accept my other mate. Stefan seems to be fine with it. I'm looking forward to finding out."
"Polyandrists!" Dara laughed.
"I hope so," Celeste laughed with her.
"How's our sailor this morning?" Dara asked her.
"Impatient," Celeste answered. "I'm hoping he will tell us what is so concerning him. It's interfering with his healing."
"I'm hoping he will actually be able to lift that leg," Dara frowned. "Are you concerned that it just won't be so?"
"No," Celeste answered confidently. "It's all there. He'll make it happen."
Dara was the first to enter the infirmary. She was getting used to the scrubbing process and had become quite adept at it. She wandered over to his bed and looked down sympathetically. He looked so withered. Celeste assured her that he would regain his weight. He hadn't talked about anything other than to enquire about his men. He was agitated to the point of injuring himself. Dara felt proud that it was her idea to scrub Big John up and allow them some visit time.
They withdrew as the two men talked with each other. The captain wasn't happy about what Big John was saying, but seemed resigned to the situation. That same afternoon he gave it his all to move his leg, but it just stayed limp.
"Don't be too concerned," Celeste had told him. "You have feeling in the leg—it will be whole again."
Dara was more hopeful on seeing the man today. He seemed more aware and judging by the firm mouth and chin, more determined. Dara was startled by his brilliant blue eyes as they regarded her warily.
"I'm Dara," Dara hadn't talked to him before. It seemed only proper to do so now. "I know you are Captain Walter E. Brewster. Your men are very concerned for you."
"You're a little young to be a cutter," he was surprised by how raspy his voice was, and appalled by how that sounded to his ears.
"You're my first," she laughed at him. "Celeste is my aunt, Stefan my uncle. Celeste saw how hurt you were and hauled me in. Stefan just joined us for the fun of it."
"A strange bunch of cutters," he replied.
"Not cutters," she reprimanded. "You still have your leg don't you?"
"And hopefully," Celeste joined them. "You'll be using it today."
Walt had been scared witless the first time he had opened his eyes and found that intensely green, but blind regard. He still found the white pupils very disturbing. For some reason, he had been able to hear and understand everything they had been doing long before he had been able to open his eyes. He had recognized the fact that he was vulnerable to whatever deed they deemed needful, and that they were—witches.
"May I see my leg?" he requested.
"Oh," Celeste said with surprise, "of course. I hadn't realized that you hadn't yet seen our handiwork. We tried to build it to look much like the other."
"You don't mind two left feet do you?" Dara asked serenely. "It seemed like an adequate pattern."
He looked up startled to see the blue laughing gaze.
"Dara," Celeste scolded, "you're terrible. Besides, we didn't have to rebuild your foot."
"It was close though," Dara said seriously. "The gangrene had grown into the bone of your ankle."
"Why am I still alive?" Walt asked confused.
"Magic," Dara told him, "as you well know."
"Help me to lift him forward," Celeste instructed her.
The two of them pulled him upward. He tried to help them, but only caused them more work. He was solely disappointed by his weakness. He was afraid to look, and then chastised himself for his cowardly thoughts. He looked down at his legs.
"It looks like my leg!" He said with surprise, "if a little thin."
"I wanted to make it look more beefy," Dara sighed, "more commanding, but Celeste assured me that it would build up on its own."
"The tattoo is gone," he smiled. He had hated that tattoo almost as soon as he had been too stupid or too drunk and had it done.
"We saved it for you," Dara assured him.
"You're teasing, yes?" He laughed.
"Actually, no," she smiled back at him. "Waste art like that. I don't think so. She must be some babe, to have a figure like that." She walked over and picked up something from the table.
"Oh, that's just not right," he squirmed, looking at his tanned out tattoo.
"A souvenir," She smiled and returned it back to the table.
"Okay," Celeste turned serious. "Today we will be moving your leg, having you move it, and then massaging it out. Your body took a beating. We will be starting you on extensive manipulation treatments. It will be tiring, and hurt a lot."
"John says we've been here for over a week," he rubbed his face feeling anxious. What a mess.
"What is it?" Dara asked him. "What is so urgent? Your men, those not too sick, are pacing around in circles. They won't tell us, they are very loyal, but don't you think you should?"
"We might be able to help," Celeste said softly.
"It probably doesn't matter anymore," Walt closed his eyes to hold back the tears. He hated being this weak! "My cousin was conscripted by the English. My brother, who has studied law, came to get him free. Now they are both conscripted aboard the H.M.S. Castor. It was going to be docked at the Cape of Good Hope. We thought that would be our best shot at retrieving them. Now, I don't know where they could be."
"Conscripted?" Dara asked.
"Press ganged using English Royal Navy authority to become English sailors," Celeste said sourly.
"You mean the English make slaves of men to work on their ships?" Dara asked stunned. "The government authorizes these practices?"
"Yes," both Celeste and Walt answered.
"Both my brother and my cousin are American citizens," he said angrily, "with proper documentation. It should have been easy to retrieve my cousin. We would not have even known what had occurred with my brother, if not for a letter he managed to smuggle out."
Walt was so tired, so weak, and so frustrated. Bad luck just seemed to stalk them. Even if he had been well, they no longer had a crew large enough to even manage the ship, and the ship was in no condition to sail, much less mount a rescue mission.
"We can, and will assist you," Celeste told him feeling angry. "We would not just sit by and allow such English barbarism to go unchallenged." Her tone lowered. "Some of us Irish—hate English domination. We need to think on this—in the mean time, let's get you walking."
Celeste had not overstated the amount of pain these new techniques were causing. It was with great relief when they would take a break and massage his body back to some type of normality. It wasn't just his leg that had been damaged. His whole body had been beaten badly by the pirates, and then typhoid had taken its toll.
"It's worth it," he said out loud as he slowly lifted his leg. It only lifted by a couple of inches, but lift it did.
"Try bending the ankle," Celeste commanded him.
It was stiff, but he managed to bend it. He bent his knee. Thankfully, it wasn't as stiff as the ankle. He remembered that they had to rebuild his ankle, even bone. He looked down at it with wonder.
"So," he paused not knowing how to ask, but then just blurted it out. "How many witches are here?"
"Everyone is a witch," Dara didn't even blink. "We are Druids."
"It's true you know," Celeste told him unconcerned. "Everyone has some type of gift—even if slight. You for instance are intuitive—and more than just a little."
"That's not being a witch," he said defensively. "I just sometimes get a gut feel about things."
"Of course," Celeste smirked at him.
"It's not like I can make a new ankle," he added thoughtfully, "or stop a ship in mid wake."
"Or incinerate a murderous boy?" Dara asked.
"Big John said it was necessary," he said quietly, "a righteous kill. We had dealings with the boy. I don't doubt his actions at all. I'm just envious that I could not have done that earlier with his father."
"You're getting tired," Celeste told him. "We will let you rest. Do not be working your leg. We will do more with it this evening."
"You will be okay again," Dara assured him. "We will have your leg better than before."
"Would you like to take lunch with us in the dining room," Celeste asked him, "or are you too tired?
"I would like that," his eyes perked up with interest. "What is this place? Big John seemed a little confused by it."
"We are O'Byrne's," Dara told him. "This is our idea of a workhouse. People come to us in desperate need. We provide the necessities, but also training and opportunities."
"When they come here, Molly will find some kind of work for them," Celeste added, "even if it is something simple which can be done from a bed. I expect she will be visiting you in the dining room to see what you can contribute. Our goal is to get people back out there."
"We are very good about finding those who are simply lazy," Dara told him, "they tend to leave anyway, and if they are addicted to substance—well—there's none of that here."
"Opportunities?" he asked.
"Ones that mean something," Dara's eye held disgust. "The English find things for people to do at the workhouses, but they are useless things to be doing—like building roads that go nowhere. We may choose to just haul our people over to some struggling farmer and build them a barn, or a house."
"The English don't want to help the struggling," Celeste told him. "They think that it's improper, as if those people are stealing. We don't believe that way. Last summer our work crew built a barn for the McFerrin family, theirs had burned down that spring. We not only built it, but taught them how to prevent another fire."
"They had wet hay," Dara added.
"Then how did it catch fire?" Walt frowned at them.
"Mold grows causing the hay to get very hot," Celeste told him, "and then other reactions occur. It's actually very common, but confusing to the farmers."
"I see," Walt had to take their word for it. He knew nothing about farming.
"We will get you for lunch in a couple of hours," Celeste told him. "Rest fast."
Walt wasn't surprised about how tired he felt. He was surprised by his lack of pain. He experimentally wiggled his toes and found that he couldn't. He started to panic, and then realized that Celeste had again immobilized his leg. She hadn't trusted him not to be working it. He sighed, she was right not to trust him.
Celeste smiled to herself. She watched as he fidgeted, and then fall asleep.
Caryn and her party came in just before the noon meal. Celeste noticed that both Dara and Terah were in their room. Terah had moved herself and the babies into the room Dara had been sharing with her sisters. Dara didn't seem to mind. Celeste was glad to see Terah and Dara getting along. She was also glad to see Dara getting familiar with Haley.
"I'm not going down there," Dara told Terah.
"I'm not either," Terah looked aghast. "Just how many people did they bring in?"
"I don't know," Dara frowned, "but it sounded like a lot. Celeste said that none of them had the mark. Well, Arlen and Hagan do, but they're family."
"I don't want to be there," Terah sneered, "but I'd love to see her face when she realizes that the house is locked against her."
"We can do that," Dara told her. "All we need is a large bowl of water. Silver would be better, but that will do." Dara pointed to the large bowl with the matching pitcher.
"How about using the tub downstairs," Terah laughed. "We can make a party of it. I'm sure Molly would love to watch, too."
"A party it is," Dara then added, "as soon as she leaves."
"I'll sneak down and start filling the tub," Terah said excitedly. "How full does it need to be?"
"About hand deep should do," Dara said marking the depth on her own hand.
Dara was happy that Terah was excited about seeing a little magic. When she first arrived, the only magic she wanted to see, was them cleaning out the nursery. That didn't happen.
:Do you need my help getting Walt ready for the noon meal?: Dara sent to Celeste.
:No,: she sent back. :Stefan will take care of him. The last thing he needs is a pretty girl watching his struggles.:
:Or a pretty woman,: Dara sent back. :I'm going to activate the tub and Terah and I are going to watch the aunt.:
:Oh, good idea,: Celeste laughed. :I'll be joining you.:
"Molly's got it going," Terah laughed as she entered the room. "She caught me on the back stairs. I told her what we were going to do, and she rushed me back upstairs. I think she doesn't want Caryn to see us, either."
"Probably," Dara nodded, "no one wants to hear her shrill voice."
The manor was built stout on the outside, being made of stone, but the inside was
built with thin wooden walls. Heat circulated better with the thin walls, but so did sound. Dara and Terah had no trouble hearing the ruckus downstairs. They cringed upon hearing Caryn's voice raise another octave.
Caryn only wanted to stop for lunch, and then to travel on to the house. Arlen told her firmly that he wanted to see the barrier in front of the house himself, before inviting in their guests. Even with her description, he had felt shocked and awed by the barrier. He tried to question people in the village about it, but even with the mark of the raven, they were weary of talking to him.
"They have a way of crossing over," Hagan told him as they looked out over the spectacular sight of the ocean, "but wouldn't say how. I'm pulled towards Celeste's property. It makes sense that it would be in her barn. I find it unlikely that Aine would have deliberately left it dangling like that."
"They don't seem very inclined to talk to your mother, either." Arlen said with concern.
"They are mad at her about something dealing with the girls," Hagan told him. "They are also fearful of all these strangers."
"I don't blame them there," Arlen nodded. "That's my fault. I couldn't really comprehend what your mother was saying. At the time, it made sense to invite my friends to move in with us when they were so unjustly evicted. I was angry."
Arlen had been very angry when the Sander's had been evicted. There was no just cause. The Sander's were paying their rent, but the landlord would pay less tax if they were gone. Instead of raising the rent, the landlord nailed an eviction notice onto the gate. They had one week to get out.
Sheridan was an excellent glass blower, so Arlen offered him a partnership. Arlen and him were to work out the details when they got settled. Arlen hadn't realized just how big Sheridan's family was when he made the offer. He thought it was just his wife and two young children. He hadn't realized that it was also Sheridan's mother, his grandmother, his grandfather, his four cousins, and then his wife's ken, too. All-in-all, Arlen counted twenty-six people. Oh well, he sighed, they had to go somewhere.
"You did the right thing," Hagan assured him. "We couldn't let them become homeless. They had no other option, either."
"I gave your mother an ultimatum you know," Arlen told his son. "I told her we would not be moving, if they did not move with us!"
"Did you mean it?" Hagan asked.
"At the time," Arlen sighed. "Now, I'm not so sure."
"It will work out," Hagan told him.
Hagan had always been fascinated by the O'Byrne house. He was very keen on the idea of living there. When he was young, a long Christmas ago, he had found a secret passage leading off the nursery. He laughed to himself. They were always confused by how he managed to get out of the nursery. That was before Kellan had even been born.
He hoped that he could learn more about magic. That was a taboo subject around his mother. It frustrated him to have to learn everything about magic on his own. It felt as if he was always learning things the hard way. His Aunt Aine had always been very open about magic, but they had to talk discreetly. He was going to miss those talks very much. He had been shocked and hurt to hear of her death.
"We're going to ride on in," his mother's voice intruded in on his thoughts.
"I'm going, too," he told her.
She just shrugged. Caryn was frantically afraid that she was losing control of her life. It had not just annoyed her for Brody to announce that he was going to marry that girl. It had terrified her. He hadn't even discussed it with them.
Hagan grinned to himself. His mother was mad at Brody, so was giving them all the silent treatment. He wondered if she realized that everyone else found it a relief.
He made his way through the gathering of wagons and horses to Jesse. Jesse had been a gift from his father when he had turned sixteen this last August. He was a New Forest stallion with shiny dark brown hair. He wasn't pretty, and he wasn't young, but he was his. He hadn't unsaddled him because he knew they would be going on to visit the property. When his father used that tone, he meant it!
"Come on Jesse," Hagan called out. He didn't wait on his father and mother. He knew the way—straight down the dirt road.
It didn't take him very long to get to where the road broke off into the ocean. At first all he could see was ocean. He made himself relax. He could then see the field, and then the house. His vision kept flicking back and forth between the two images as if a switch was being turned on, and then off. He could see it, and then he couldn't. He climbed off Jesse to lead him carefully down the road. Jesse had to watch his steps when they got to the shifting rocks.
When they were across, Hagan looked back. There was no sign of the ocean. He scratched his head pondering. He climbed back on Jesse and made his way to the house. He looked around confused. His cousins usually shouted greetings to him from wherever they might be. Now, nothing, it was totally quiet. He tied Jesse onto the post at the front of the porch and made his way up the stairs. He tried the door knob. It was locked. He had never known for the house to be locked before. He made his way around to the back.
"Can you see the dual image?" Caryn asked her husband as they approached the barrier.
"I can when I think about the house," he told her. "I didn't get that at the manor. It just looked like ocean. I can also smell—and feel it," He added when drenched by a wave.
"Oh," Caryn exclaimed as the wave drenched her dress, too.
Arlen carefully made his way down the incline. The new horse which Caryn had gotten did not like the rocks and tended to shy sideways. He sighed with relief when they were down. It was a little unnerving for his vision to keep shifting between the images.
"It was that way for me at the manor, too." Caryn told him. "I think it's because we can't cross there, although Molly said that the girls could see the other side."
"You know," Arlen told her. "It wouldn't hurt for you to try to get along with your new neighbors. Life can get pretty harsh without your friends."
"Like you and your friends?" Caryn was still steamed about Arlen inviting those people to live with them of all things.
"Exactly!" He glared at her. "Where would you be in their circumstances?"
"I would not be in those circumstances," she said arrogantly.
Arlen didn't believe in hitting a woman, but sometimes he just really wanted to smack her. Anyone could find themselves in that type of situation.
They rode up to the house without any further conversation. Arlen stopped the wagon and looked around. Except for Hagan's horse, the place looked abandoned. He noticed that Caryn was looking around as equally mystified.
"Where are those girls?" She muttered.
Caryn helped herself down from the wagon and made her way to the door. She turned the knob and stepped forward crashing her face into the door. She pulled back startled. She had expected for it to open, it hadn't. She rubbed her nose perplexed.
"We're locked out," Hagan said as he approached from the side. "We can get into the outbuildings, but not the house. There's a new building which I think you should see. I think Keegan built it especially for glass blowing."
Arlen climbed out of the wagon to follow his son. Caryn was still persistently jiggling the doorknob.
"This is it," Hagan opened the door.
Arlen was very impressed. The floor was very smooth and sealed. The windows were screened. There were big bellows and a furnace at the far side of the room. It was perfect for glass blowing, he thought excitedly. His biggest problem with blowing was the contamination which ruined the glass. He breathed in deeply. The air seemed so clean.
"Did Keegan put magic into this room," he asked Hagan.
"Yes," he laughed and studied the wards, "against accidents, and something else which I can't decipher. How did you know?"
"It smells too clean," he said distractedly already picturing where he was going to set up his tools.
"Stefan has been using the furnace on the other side of the wall as a forge," Hagan told him. "It's a two way furnace."
>
"That will help with keeping the building cool in here," Arlen was making his way up the stairs. He was pleasantly surprised to find living quarters, even a small kitchen. Two of the rooms were in obvious use, but he could see himself staying up here—at least until the house was unlocked.
"You're going to have to break down the door," Caryn announced startling him out of his daydream—he sighed.
"I'm not going to be breaking down anything," he told her. "We will find the girls, and everything will be okay. They must have locked it before leaving."
"But that's the thing," she told him. "There are no locks on this house. The door must just be stuck."
"It's locked," Hagan told her, "magically."
"And how would you know that?" She asked him.
Hagan just snarled at her and made his way outside.
"You're going to drive the boy away," Arlen told her feeling frustrated. "Whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, he's gifted. You cannot just wish it away!"
"There is a very fine line between magic—and evil," she told him.
"Rubbish!" He turned away from her and marched down the stairs.
"He just doesn't know," she murmured to herself.
She found them downstairs with their heads together. She was feeling more and more distanced from her family.
"I don't know if the magic with the barrier will allow those without the raven to cross," Hagan was saying. "Molly was saying that Dara was going to ask Glenna, the priestess, if others could be so marked."
"It would be better for them to remove the barrier," Caryn told him. "Then we could all just get back to normal."
"And just who is them?" Hagan argued with her. "Aine and Keegan? No one else knows anything about this."
"I bet Celeste and Glenna could do it—and maybe even Stefan," she said unreasonably.
"Do you think Stefan would do anything for you?" Hagan said angrily. "I heard you belted him with a hammer, cracked his head open, would have killed a normal person!"
Arlen looked at her stunned. This was the first he had heard about any attack. Her face was pressed together in anger.
"Well," she exclaimed. "He's not dead, is he?"
"It took death magic to create this," Hagan told her. "Who should have to die to remove it, or was that what you were trying with the hammer?"
"You know nothing," she said as she stomped out.
"What is that about a hammer?" Arlen asked his son.
Hagan told him what Molly had told him, which had come from Kellan, who had heard it from Dara.
"So it could have been exaggerated," Hagan gave his mother a little wiggle room.
Arlen didn't think so. He had always hated it when Caryn visited this place. It always seemed to unhinge her. He knew that her mother had been cruel to her, but Aine had come out very steady, and had some very good girls. He was going to watch Caryn carefully for any more strange behavior. He found the fact that Caryn hadn't mentioned belting Stefan on the head at all—a bit ominous. He'd find a house somewhere else if that was what it would take for Caryn to behave normal.
"We can stay here," Hagan announced.
"I'm not living in any foundry!" Caryn yelled from downstairs.
"We have no home," Arlen told her. "So which friends of yours will house us?"
"We will stay at the manor," she said angrily.
"I'll stay here," Hagan told his father. "The manor has its hands full with all those sailors."
"I wish I could, too," he said wistfully.
"Dara, Terah, and the babies were hiding out at the manor," Hagan confided. "They aren't going to be very pleased to hear that mother is heading back."
"I should have known," Arlen laughed. "Where are the other girls?"
"They are touring the property," Hagan told him, "like they tried to get their aunt to do. She's going to be shocked when she meets up with them again."
"Why is that?" He asked.
"They've come into their own—magically," Hagan told him with a smile. "I can feel them. They are very powerful."
"That won't go over well," Arlen sighed.
"I think you better plan on another place to live," Hagan told him.
"Yes," Arlen rubbed his face, "I believe you are right. I'll talk to Stefan. This is a big property. He should know where we can live, although considering what Caryn had done to his head—he may wish us into that ocean."
"He could do more than just wish us there," Hagan commented, "if he so wished."
"And there you have it!" Dara was saying to the growing party.
There was no sound with the images so Dara and Terah had been mimicking her aunt and uncle. Celeste started mimicking Hagan.
"I thought you couldn't see reflections," Molly said with surprise.
"Who's looking at the reflection," she had laughed.
There were around twenty-odd people pressed inside the bath house watching the show. They cheered and scoffed. It was a lot of fun. Dara considered that maybe they should do it more often—just for fun.
"Good job," Jendayi, and Marjani said with careful English. "The pictures were very clear."
"I'm glad that you joined us," Dara told them slowly.
Molly watched with a smile as they left the room. They were trying so hard to learn English and to fit in.
"What are you doing?" Dara asked as she watched Molly scribble things on a piece of paper.
"Things for Caryn to do," she said scornfully. "No one, does nothing in this house."
"She hates doing laundry," Terah told her.
"Laundry! We always need clothes being washed," Molly wrote it down, "especially with the infirmary being in use.
"Too bad she didn't get here sooner," Dara smirked, "when the sailors were so sick."
"That was bad," Molly admitted, "but then I wouldn't have trusted her with it, either. I wouldn't have risked us all getting sick because she cheated somehow."
"Lunch everyone," Molly's cook called them all in. She had put off lunch to see the show. It had been marvelous, better than those traveling shows.
Stefan had already brought Walt into the dining room. Dara smiled, happy to see him chumming it up with his men. There was much to-do over his leg. Big John had seen it at its worse. He was astounded to see it whole, even if a bit frail. When they saw Dara watching them, they raised their mugs to her. She blushed furiously.
Walt was seeing Celeste for the first time out of her infirmary clothes. He was astounded by the white hair. She was always so vibrant in the sickroom that he assumed that she would have rebellious bright red hair. He knew that she was blind, and was confused when she looked up and winked at him. He knew that he owed his life to her, Stefan, and the girl—Dara. He was deeply grateful.
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