“Never mind, Emma,” Bran murmured, clearly seeing my discomfort. “You’ll grow into your new self in time.”
“Yes, new powers take time to settle,” Lachlan agreed.
I certainly hoped they were right, although I didn’t know if I could ever get used to looking so different.
“Here we go,” Bran said. “Will this fit?”
I looked up and saw that he was holding out a dress, still on a hanger. It was bright orange and made out of stretchy polyester material that didn’t look very breathable.
“It was the only thing my sister left in her closet,” Bran said apologetically, gesturing around the empty bedroom we had all wandered into.
I could see why she had left it—it was hideous. Still, it ought to fit me.
“Thanks,” I said brightly, taking the dress from him. “Let me just slip into the bathroom and put it on.”
“No need—Lachlan and I will give you privacy,” Bran said. He and Lachlan stepped outside the bedroom, leaving me to shrug out of the black cloak and put on the orange dress instead.
I pulled it over my head and tugged, expecting it to fall straight down. But I had forgotten about my new boobs.
“Ugh!” I had to pull and yank to get the stretchy fabric past my newly massive mammaries. Well, not massive maybe, but I had gone up several cup sizes—from a modest B to a double D at least. So the dress was extremely tight in the chest and then baggy around my newly hourglass-shaped waist and tight again in my curvy hips.
When I finally got it on, I saw that it was too short as well. Had I grown a couple of inches as well as changing my whole outer appearance during the geas-removing process?
It seemed reasonable to think so. I knew that this dress would have fit my old body. But on my new one, it looked both ridiculous and obscene—too tight, too short, and it clashed horribly with my new purple eyes. The mirror Bran’s sister had left hanging on the wall told me that plainly enough.
“Are you dressed?” Bran called through the door as I was staring at myself in dismay.
“Yes,” I said in a small voice. “I mean, kind of.”
“What does ‘kind of’ mean?”
Bran pushed open the door and he and Lachlan came in. Two sets of eyes—one emerald green and one deep blue—swept over me. Lachlan’s sarcastic gaze seemed to hover around my chest, making me feel deeply self-conscious.
“Don’t look at me.” I covered myself with my arms, feeling my cheeks get hot. “I know how awful I look.”
“Awful?” Lachlan and Bran exchanged glances that seemed to convey a hidden meaning. It occurred to me that they had been friends for so long, they probably had ways of communicating without words. It was going to take me some time to pick up on what they were sending to each other.
“Yes, awful,” I said, frowning. “This dress doesn’t fit and it clashes with my eyes.”
“It’s the dress that’s awful—not you, Emma. You’re beautiful,” Bran said gently.
“I agree wholeheartedly that our Emma is beautiful.” Lachlan reached for the discarded cloak and held it out to me. “But all the same, maybe you’re prefer to borrow my cloak a little while longer?”
“Yes, I would. Thanks.” I took it from him gratefully and settled it back around my shoulders. “Well…” I took a deep breath. “Now that I’m dressed—kind of—I think I’d better get home. Mom’s probably worried sick.”
“Come on, then.” Bran looked around the empty house and sighed. “Let’s go. It’s not like I have any reason to stay here.”
“Wait!” Lachlan walked over to the mantelpiece above the small fireplace in the living room. “Look, old friend,” he murmured, picking something up. “I think maybe you are not as forgotten by your family as you think.”
“What is it?” Bran and I went to see what he was holding and Bran sucked in his breath when Lachlan held out his hand.
Cupped in his palm was a silver ring with slender markings etched in gold all over it.
“What is it?” I asked as Bran took it and slipped it onto his pinky—the only place it would fit—almost reverently.
“It belonged to my mother—and to her mother before her,” he murmured. “She should have saved it to give to my sister.”
“Maybe she left it for you, to let you know she loved you,” I suggested gently.
“Maybe.” He looked down at the ring, which glimmered softly against his tan skin. “It was…very kind of her. She always had a softer heart than my father. I suppose it is all I have left of them now.”
I felt another little stab in my heart as I saw the look on his face. I hoped that bringing him into my coven might help ease the pain of not having a family. And since Lachlan was in the same boat, maybe my coven-mates would welcome him too.