“You, an O’Cailleach, a witch of the oldest traditions, think it’s strange to have a power rising in you, to be remembering ancestral knowledge?”
Is he really teasing me?
He looked deeply at me, earnestly studying me.
I felt the blush grow warmer.
“What? Well, no, but this is different. My mum taught me of the Old Ways. She raised me with them, but nothing ever felt like this. There was never this . . . quickening. I don’t know what that is. It’s happened before today, but only since I’ve been here. It’s not always the same. Today it was light, soft, like being wrapped in this blanket.” I nestled deeper into its warmth. “I don’t know. The other night, at the club, it was the total opposite. It was under my skin. It was effervescent and . . . fizzy, but then it turned to fire all along
