Shadows and Light

Chapter Thirty-one

Gritty-eyed and achy from a restless night and too little sleep, Morag stepped out of the Clan house. She shivered in the cool morning air and wished she’d thought to bring a shawl with her. Usually she enjoyed the coolness of morning before the day yielded to summer heat. Now she wanted the heat and bright sunlight of midday. She wanted to sit somewhere open and quiet and let the heat bake the tension out of her body, melt the worry that had chased her through her dreams.

Sylvalan will change, no matter what Ashk decides today. The question is, can we live with how it changes?

Hearing movement behind her, Morag glanced over her shoulder. Aiden and Lyrra stood in the doorway, looking at the Fae who were helping themselves to tea and hot breads from the outdoor stove. Neither of them looked like they’d had an easy night.

“Blessings of the day to you, Morag,” Aiden said.

“Blessings of the day,” Morag replied. She looked at Lyrra, then at the Fae going about their usual morning tasks. “They’re no different from who they were yesterday.”

“I know,” Lyrra said. “But...”

But now you know why they’re different from the rest of us.

The rattle of wheels caught Morag’s attention. A few moments later, Ari and Neall arrived in the pony cart, followed by Morphia and Sheridan on horseback.

“Come along, then,” Morag said briskly. She headed for the large table, sure that Aiden and Lyrra would follow, if for no other reason than because Ari, Neall, and Morphia were familiar faces in a world that had turned strange.

“There was no reason for you to be bringing back all that food,” Beitris scolded. “You should have kept it so that you could have a rest day after the dance.” She set clean cups on the table while another woman brought over a pot of tea.

“We kept plenty,” Ari said. “The cold cellar is stuffed, isn’t it?” She turned to Neall as she said it.

“Stuffed,” Neall agreed, grinning.

Morag glanced at Morphia, then quickly looked away, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing. Watching Ari deal with this Clan’s Lady of the Hearth was always entertaining.

Beitris sniffed. “And I suppose the young Lord bundled you up and had you out the door this morning before you could have so much as a sip of tea.”

“No, he didn’t,” Ari huffed. “I had— Oh. What kind of bread is that?”

“Apple nut,” Beitris said. “Would you like to try a piece?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Well,” Neall said. “So much for ‘I’m too full from last night’s meal to finish my porridge.’ ”

Ari scowled at him. “That was porridge. This isn’t.”

Nothing has changed, Morag thought fondly, watching Neall pull out the bench to accommodate Ari’s belly. And everything has changed. Looking at the contentment on Sheridan’s face and Morphia’s heavy eyes, she didn’t think her sister had gotten much sleep last night either—and didn’t regret it.

If anyone else noticed that the Bard and the Muse remained strangely silent throughout the meal, no one mentioned it. It couldn’t be easy for either of them to be afraid of the person they had searched so hard to find.

Then Morphia said, “Oh, my.”

Turning on the bench to see what had caught Morphia’s attention, Morag watched Padrick and a slender man walk toward them. The stranger had short, ash-brown hair and woodland eyes, and looked so much like—

“Ashk?” Morag said hesitantly.

The man smiled. “Blessings of the day to you.” The timbre was a little lower, but it was still Ashk’s voice.

“Mother’s mercy,” Aiden said. “That’s how you did it. That’s why no one ever suspected the Hunter was a woman.”

“One can use the glamour for other things besides creating a human mask,” Ashk said.

“Did the old Lord of the Woods suspect you were a woman?” Lyrra asked.

Ashk’s smile turned feral, but Morag saw the slash of grief in her eyes.

“He was the one who taught me this mask,” Ashk said. “He said when the time came for me to take his place, the western Clans would accept me as the Green Lady but the Clans beyond the west never would. He believed the Lords who held the gift of the woods would feel compelled to challenge me over and over because the Hunter had always been the Lord of the Woods. Out of respect for him and kindness to me, the Clans here have kept my secret from the rest of the Fae. Now...” She shrugged. “That I’m a woman isn’t important. The power that I can wield is.” She looked at Aiden, who slowly rose to his feet to face her. “Do you still want the Hunter to go with you?”

Aiden swallowed hard. “Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll go, and we’ll see what can be done about cleansing the Inquisitors from Sylvalan.”

“It won’t just be the Inquisitors you have to deal with, Ashk,” Morag said quietly. “Even if you use the glamour to look like a Lord, the Fae will resist you too, and the humans outside of the west may not be willing to accept the Fae’s presence.”

“If the barons command it, the people will accept it,” Padrick said. “I can be of some help with that.”

“We won’t be taking land away from the humans,” Ashk said. “We’ll simply be taking back the Old Places.”

Last summer, I told the Master Inquisitor that the Fae were reclaiming the Old Places, but it never happened, and the slaughter of witches continued, Morag thought. If Ashk can really bring the Fae back to the world, then maybe we will be able to stop this.

“It won’t be easy,” Morag said.

“No,” Ashk agreed, “it won’t be easy.”

Aiden was looking at her, his expression uneasy. She wasn’t even sure why she was resisting, except that Ashk was leaving her home and family without truly knowing how difficult the task ahead of her would be.

“How will you explain to the Small Folk and the witches and all the humans for whom the Fae mean nothing more than a seduction or taking their amusement at another person’s expense?” Morag asked. “What words can you say that will keep us from fighting among ourselves instead of fighting the enemy that wants to destroy us?”

“The words aren’t difficult.” Ashk turned and stared toward the east for a long time, as if she could see beyond the woods, beyond the rolling land, even beyond the Mother’s Hills. When she turned back, Morag was glad she had come to know the woman before meeting Ashk as the Hunter.

“This is what we will tell the Small Folk and the humans and the witches,” Ashk said softly. “Too long have we been absent. Now we have returned.”