“My romantic man,” Aoife said in the same tongue. “Ye remember that?”
“My vow is unbroken,” Fergus replied still in Gaelic.
The reincarnation blinked. “Bhòid? Why do I understand that word?”
“Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone,” Aoife said, nudging Fergus with her foot.
Feck. He could hardly remember the words. They hadn’t even been original. They’d been handfasting vows they’d modified. “I give ye my Body, that we Three might be One.”
“I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done,” Aoife encouraged.
“You cannot possess me for I belong to myself,” the new Tamlin said, face paling.
“But while we three wish it, I give you that which is mine to give,” Fergus said, his hands and voice trembling.
Aoife smiled. This was her favorite line: “You cannae command me, for I am a free person.”
The reincarnation held his hand against his head. He’d grown even paler. “But I shall serve you in those ways you require.”
“And the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand,” Fergus finished, a storm of emotion brewing in his chest. Tears fell unbidden. They were only words, or so they’d thought.
“You’re Fagan, not Fergus. I—I renamed ye—you.” The bar towel dropped from the reincarnation’s hand. “I think I’m going to…”
Niamh, least effected by the reunion, was also the quickest to catch the fainting Tamlin.
To be continued in The Fomorians…
Vow Unbroken: Faerie Tales 3 Page 8
