.Moira.

"When do you think you'll tell them?" Moira asked her mother, who stared into her mug of tea like it held all the answers to every universal problem.

Morgan looked up and set the mug down on the counter next to her open Book of Shadows. She was currently brewing a concoction to aid in relieving anxiety without the herbal aftertaste. She sprinkled in a bit more sugar and squeeze of lemon and stirred.

"Tell who what exactly?" Morgan replied, putting her medium-length hair into a high ponytail. She'd been growing out the thick brown strands for the past year, and it was almost to the middle of her back.

Moira took a bite of toast, nodding towards the stairs. "You and Hunter." Morgan took a sip, grimaced, and poured it down the drain. She grabbed her pen and crossed off the last few ingredients. "Mum," Moira pressed.

Sighing, Morgan said, "Soon. We will tell everyone soon."

"Can I tell Ian? Maybe Tess and Vita?"

Morgan thought for a minute, then nodded. "Sure. Just try not to say anything in front of their parents or Katrina, okay?"

Moira's eyes narrowed. "Why? I thought you and Gran were fine."

Morgan groaned softly, leaning back against the sink. "We're civil." She explained gently. "We're not at war, we're not against each other in any way."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Honey, I can't fully forgive her. You understand that, right?" Moira nodded once. "I mean, you grew up not knowing the other half of your family, your cousins, everyone. You've only known Belwicket."

Moira looked at her mother thoughtfully, debating whether to argue that she was happy in Cobh, with Belwicket, but decided to let it go. It was true, after all. Hunter was her father, and nothing could change that fact. She wouldn't exist without him. And with him came family that she could have grown up knowing, not just adopted family on, technically, both sides.

"Until I think of a good way to tell the rest of the coven, I'd rather most people not know."

"Sure," Moira agreed.

Hunter walked down the stairs, his tread far quieter than it had been when he had first come there a year ago. He greeted Moira with a smile and Morgan with a kiss, which she returned, beaming slightly. They had been subtle in the last week that they'd been engaged, but Moira knew—uncomfortably well—that they were sleeping in the same bed and they made no strong efforts to hide their affection towards each other.

Moira thought back to times like this, with a different father, a different husband for her mother. Colm and Morgan had never been playful or flirty with each other. Gentle pecks and hugs when he would go off to work. They had never locked the door for privacy when Moira was little, and were on opposite sides of the bed, not touching, when Moira would rush in from a bad dream.

She had always assumed her mother wasn't an affectionate person. She'd been loving enough, allowed hugs and kisses freely from Moira, but always had a slight stiffness when Colm tried to be that for her. She had assumed that her parents were soul mates, that Colm was the opposite of Morgan and that they balanced each other out. He never fought with her, never challenged her, had never tried to undermine her parenting…

Would it have been that way growing up with Hunter? She looked up at her mother and biological father and realized with a pang that she looked radiant. She was happy, she looked younger and more vibrant than she had ever seen her before. There was no question that Hunter made her mum feel alive. He was her muìrn beatha dàn—she simply couldn't be whole without him.

Moira knew that with him, she would've been incredibly loved. She knew her mum would've been very affectionate with her, like she tried to be now. She knew she probably would've had siblings and that she would've grown up with a bunch of cousins. She would've had all the attention she could've ever asked for. She would've had her real dad to show guide her spellcrafting, as Hunter was brilliant with it. She would've had them both around, all the time, and not have to rely on her Gran for help with her studies.

But it hurt worse to imagine it than the reality they had all suffered.

With a sigh, Moira got up from her place at the kitchen table, brought her plate to the sink, and left for Katrina's.


Moira and Ian were lying on a couch in Katrina's house, molding into each other. She was out for the afternoon, and Moira relished having this kind of alone time with Ian.

"They were discussing Beltane—I think that's when Mum would love to do it."

"How do you feel about it? About Hunter?"

Moira wriggled her arm free from underneath him as it was becoming numb. "I think after everything, they deserve it. It's still weird from time to time, but it's kind of normal now. If that makes sense." She added with a small laugh.

"A little," he kissed her on the tip of her nose, and she smiled.

"It's weird how everything has changed. Hunter's amazing, for Mum and also for me, I suppose. I understand now why she loves him so much."

Ian cleared his throat and wrapped his arm further around Moira's back. "And your dad? Are you feeling more okay about it?"

Moira shrugged. "I love Colm for raising me, but I do wish I could've had Hunter, too."

"I get it," Ian said. "I'm sorry that didn't happen for you."

"Me too," Moira said sadly, realizing just how much it was actually true.

Ian kissed her softly on the lips, both of them closing their eyes at the contact. They felt Katrina walk up the front steps and reluctantly separated. She was home much sooner than they anticipated.

"Please don't tell her," Moira whispered to Ian before Gran came around into the living room.

"Tell me what?" Gran asked, smiling at them.

Moira mentally kicked herself. She knew Gran's hearing was good. "Nothing,"

Gran looked between the two and laughed. "Help me unload the bags?"

Moira and Ian nodded simultaneously and got up, following her to the kitchen. They emptied the grocery bags in a comfortable silence while Katrina got out a large pot and cutting board. She turned the flame under the pot and went to work chopping the vegetables for what Moira assumed was stew.

"How's your mum?"

Moira froze, glancing at Ian. "She's fine."

"And Hunter?"

"They're both good, Gran." Moira said tactfully.

Katrina slid the chopped vegetables into a bowl and grabbed a huge chunk of meat to cube up. "We only see them at circles anymore," she said, working her sharp knife into the tender red meat. "I'd like to have them around more often."

Moira swallowed. "Maybe talk to Mum about it?"

Ian stepped beside Moira and added, "Yeah, she's been in a good mood lately,"

Moira's eyes widened, and Ian realized what he had done.

"Why is that?"

"Um,"

Katrina's blue eyes narrowed a fraction. "Moira?"

"Mum and Hunter are engaged," Moira said softly. "But please don't say anything, she wanted to wait until the right time to tell everyone."

Katrina's shock-whitened face regained a fraction of its usual color back and she swallowed. "How nice," she said, forcing a smile. Moira felt the tension rise as Gran went back to the meat.