Callum snorted. “Normal person? A four hundred year old man, normal? Didn’t you learn anything in your lengthy life span, or were you busy screwing us, the Inkwells, or rather, O’Briains?”
“Callum, that’s enough!” Alan’s voice boomed.
Declan gaped at the young man who looked more like Killian each second, though his character was night and day compared to Declan’s lover. Killian had always been gentle. Even after the death of Aodhan, his brother, he tended to suffer quietly and alone. A pang suddenly stabbed Declan’s heart. He missed Killian so much.
He went to look out the window. “That’s fine,” he said to Alan. “Callum is right. I should’ve learned how to ward off black magic and spells, though it’s not in my blood as I’m not a witch, nor was my family. One thing, though.” He turned a
