Too much time spent with these people, these feelings, these needs made him forget what could never be altered. He pushed away from the door.
“Wait. A moment more.”
Hoyt’s voice stopped him—and it irritated him to understand Hoyt had known he wasn’t simply shifting position but leaving.
Hoyt lowered his hands, and the smoke whisked away.
“Sure we’ll go into this well-armed.” Hoyt reached into the trough and lifted a sword by the hilt. Spinning, he pointed it toward the hearth. And shot a beam of fire.
“Will you be using one of these?” Hoyt turned the sword in his hand, eying its edge. “You’ve skill enough not to burn yourself.”
“I’ll use whatever comes best to hand—and do my best to stay away from those you arm who are considerably less skilled.”
“It’s not worry over poor swordsmanship that brings you here.”
“No.”
Since he was here, he’d do what he’d come to do. But he wandered the room first while Hoyt removed the other weapons from the trough. The room smelled of herbs and smoke, of sweat and effort.
“I’ve chased your woman away.”
“I’ll find her again.”
“Since she’s not here, I’ll ask you. Are you afraid you’ll lose her in this?”
Hoyt laid the last sword on the worktable. “It’s my last thought before sleep, my first on waking. The rest of the time I try not to think of it—or let out the part of myself that wants to lock her away safe until this is over.”
“She isn’t a woman you could lock away, even with your skill.”
“No, but knowing that doesn’t stop the fear. Are you afraid for Moira?”
“What?”
“Do you think I don’t know you’re with her? That your heart is with her?”
“A temporary madness. It’ll pass.” At his brother’s quiet, steady look, Cian shook his head. “I’ve no choice in it, and neither does she. What I am doesn’t run to white picket fences and golden retrievers.” He waved it away when Hoyt’s look turned puzzled. “To home and hearth, brother. I can’t give her a life—if I wanted to—and what passes for mine will go on long after hers is ended. And that’s not what I’ve come to tell you.”
“Tell me this first. Do you love her?”
It came into him, the truth of it, swirling through his heart and into his eyes. “She is…She is like a light for me when I’ve lived eternally in the dark. But the dark is mine, Hoyt. I know how to survive there, to be content and productive and entertained there.”
“You don’t say happy.”
Frustration snapped into his voice. “I was happy enough before you came. Before you changed everything again, as surely as Lilith had done to me. What would you have me do? Wish for what you have, and will have with Glenna if you live? What good will it do me? Will it start my heart again? Can your magic do that?”
“No. I’ve found nothing that can take you back. But—”
“Let it be. I am what I am, and I’ve done more than well enough. I’m not whining about it. She’s an experience. Love is an experience, and I’ve always sought them out.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “Christ. Is there anything to drink in this place?”
“There’s whiskey.” Hoyt lifted his chin toward a cabinet. “I’ll have one as well.”
Cian poured whiskey generously into cups, then crossed to where Hoyt drew two three-legged stools together. So Cian sat, and they drank for a few moments in silence.
“I’ve written out a document, a kind of will, should my luck run out on Samhain.”
Hoyt lifted his eyes from his whiskey and met Cian’s. “I see.”
“I’ve accumulated considerable property and holdings, assets, personal items. I expect you’ll see to them, as I’ve instructed.”