Shadows and Light

Chapter Seven

“Lady Morag, have you seen Ashk?” Morag studied the young man rapidly approaching her. She couldn’t remember his name, but she’d seen him with the group of adolescents Ashk affectionately called the “pack.”

“She’s at the Clan house,” Morag said.

The young man grinned. “I wanted to give her fair warning. She’s about to have visitors.” He touched two fingers to his temple, giving Morag a jaunty salute before jogging down the forest trail that led to the Clan house.

Morag continued along the trail away from the Clan house for another minute. Paused. Looked back.

Turning in a slow circle, she opened herself to her power as the Gatherer and listened.

Death always murmured in the woods, just as life murmured there. But she heard no whisper from Death that indicated she was needed. Besides, there was the youth’s grin to consider—and the fact that Ashk had been oddly distracted while she’d been showing Morag some of the trails in the woods. Added to that was Ashk leaving her abruptly about an hour ago “to take a bath.”

Whose arrival could be important enough that this Clan’s Lady of the Woods would feel compelled to look her best in order to receive them?

A chill went through Morag. She could think of two Fae whose arrival might cause some excitement among the Clan here—the Huntress and the Lightbringer. The Lady of the Moon and the Lord of the Sun, the Lord of Fire.

Would Dianna or Lucian visit a western Clan? The rest of the Fae in Sylvalan tended to avoid the Fae in the west whenever possible. There was no reason those two would visit here. Unless, somehow, they’d heard that Ari was still alive and now lived in this Old Place.

But there was that youth’s grin and Ashk’s desire to look her best. Considering Ashk’s opinion of Lucian and Dianna, Morag didn’t think Ashk would make any special efforts for either of them.

Morag shifted to her other form, spread her black raven’s wings, and flew along the forest trail back to the Clan house.

Just to be safe. Just to be sure. As soon as she’d satisfied herself that these visitors were no threat to Ari and Neall, she’d return to the cottage.

As soon as you’ve satisfied your own curiosity, she admitted frankly. You want to see who could fluster Ashk.

Morag landed just out of sight of the Clan house, changed back to her human form, then walked the rest of the way. She reached the Clan house at the same time Ashk walked out one of the doors.

“How do I look?” Ashk asked, turning in a circle to show off the summer-green gown and the brown, richly embroidered overvest.

Like a gentry lady—except you have the pointed ears and feral looks of the Fae, Morag thought. “You look lovely.”

Ashk’s woodland eyes had a sparkle Morag hadn’t seen in them before.

A horn sounded through the woods. Ashk’s nostrils flared slightly, as if she were trying to catch a scent on the wind.

“They’re here,” Ashk said. She smiled at Morag. “Come and meet them.” Not waiting for Morag’s response, she walked toward a dark-haired man on a gray gelding and a young girl on a black pony as they slowly rode into view of the Clan house.

Gentry, Morag decided as she moved to a position where she could watch Ashk as well as the strangers. That’s why she saw the boy riding behind the man. Seen straight on, the boy had been hidden.

“Lady Ashk,” the man said with formal politeness.

“Baron Padrick,” Ashk replied just as formally. “Come and be welcome.”

Morag scanned the faces of the other Fae who were watching this meeting. They didn’t seem concerned or wary that the local baron had come to the Clan house. No, they seemed amused by the formality of the greeting. Just like the young girl on the black pony, who was rolling her eyes— which, in turn, made the boy scowl at her.

“I brought someone to see you,” Padrick said. Reaching an arm back, he helped the boy down before dismounting.

The girl, grinning now as she watched Ashk, dismounted and led her pony closer to Morag.

Ashk studied the boy before giving Padrick a quizzical look. “You’ve brought a visiting baron to see me?”

Morag wanted to join the young girl in rolling her eyes. What was wrong with Ashk? It was obvious the boy was the man’s son. Anyone could see that by looking at them.

The boy, both pleased and embarrassed, said, “Mother.”

Ashk stared at him coolly. “Mother? You’re mistaken, sir. My son is a boy of eleven years, while you are a tall, handsome young man.”

“Mother! It’s me, Evan. Truly, it is.” He looked up at the man beside him. “Father, tell her.”

Morag stared at the man, then at Ashk. Father? Mother? Ashk had mated with the local baron?

Ashk tipped her head to one side, considering. “I’d know who you are for certain if I got a hug.” She opened her arms.

When the boy glanced at the people around him and hesitated, Padrick said, “Lad, if you haven’t learned yet to recognize a good offer when you hear one, then I’ll be glad to take your hug as well as my own.”

“You’re getting a hug?” Ashk asked.

“Indeed I am,” Padrick replied.

The boy took a self-conscious step toward Ashk. Then another. When Ashk smiled at him, he closed the distance between them in a rush.

Padrick looked over at the girl and winked. She gave him a sassy smile in reply.

After a few moments, Padrick said, “Step aside now, lad. It’s my turn.”

Evan squirmed out of his mother’s embrace and stepped aside, grinning.

Padrick stepped forward—and received a bit more than a hug as a welcome.

“I’m Caitlin. Who are you?”

Morag turned her attention away from Ashk and the baron to the girl now standing beside her. She had blue eyes like the baron, but her hair was ash brown, like Ashk’s. And it was Ashk’s face looking up at her, younger and human, but the connection was still obvious.

“Are you visiting from another Clan?” Caitlin asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“She’s Neall and Ari’s friend,” Evan said, joining them. “She’s staying with them. Father told me.”

“He told me, too,” Caitlin said, sounding a little fierce. “I was just being polite.”

Both children looked over at their parents, who were still embracing.

“When I was little, I thought it was awful that men had to kiss ladies that way,” Evan said thoughtfully. “But now that I’m older, it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. I may even try it some time. When I’m a bit older.”

“Only husbands are allowed to kiss that way,” Caitlin said. “And they’re only allowed to kiss their wives.”

“Husbands are allowed to kiss other ladies.”

“Are not.”

“Are, too. Father kisses ladies who are friends. Like Ari.”

“But not that way.”

“Of course not that way.”

“ ‘Cause if he did, Mother would tear Father’s throat out.”

“And if Mother kissed another man that way, Father would throw her in the dungeon and not let her out until she promised never to do it again.”

Caitlin scowled. “We don’t have a dungeon. And even if we did, Father would never do that to Mother.”

Evan frowned at his younger sister. “Guess not. But he would be very angry.”

“Yes, he would,” Caitlin agreed.

Bloodthirsty little beasts, Morag thought.

Then they both looked at her, a bit too thoughtfully for her comfort.

“What’s your gift?” Caitlin asked.

Morag hesitated. “I’m the Gatherer.”

She expected them to move away from her. The children in other Clans, once they learned who she was, had tended to keep their distance. Instead, Evan’s and Caitlin’s eyes brightened.

“You’re the only one of Death’s Servants who can gather a spirit before the body dies,” Evan said excitedly. “Have you ever done it?”

“There are times when it is kinder to let the spirit go on to the Summerland if the body is failing and the person is suffering,” Morag said carefully.

“Have you ever gathered someone because they did a bad thing?” Caitlin asked.

Morag thought of the Inquisitors she had gathered last summer when they were still healthy and whole in order to stop them from killing the witches. That wasn’t something she was going to try to explain to these children. “Mostly I gather those whose flesh has already returned to the Great Mother.”

“But if someone did a bad thing, you would gather them, wouldn’t you?” Caitlin persisted.

“Of course she would,” Evan replied. “She’s the Gatherer. So if sea thieves were attacking a merchant ship and she saw them doing it, she’d send the sea thieves to a watery grave to save the good merchants. Wouldn’t you?”

“Ah ...” What was she supposed to say to this boy who was looking at her with such approval?

“But she wouldn’t gather someone just because they did something that was a little bad,” Caitlin said. “Because that wouldn’t be fair. Would it?”

“No, that wouldn’t be fair,” Morag said. “Did— Did your parents tell you that? That I— That the Gatherer would take you if you didn’t behave?”

The children shook their heads.

“Oh, no,” Caitlin said. “They would never say that. Besides, you have to take care of the important gathering, so you wouldn’t have time to gather everyone who did something a little bit bad.”

“When we were little, Mother used to say if we did something very bad, she would dunk us in the privy,” Evan said.

“And we wouldn’t be allowed back inside the Clan house until we washed ourselves and our clothes well enough to smell tolerable,” Caitlin added.

“So one day we decided to find out how bad it would be if we did do something bad enough that Mother would dunk us,” Evan said. “So we tied a rope to a tree near one of the privy houses and brought the other end in with us so that we could climb back out.”

“It was bad,” Caitlin said, wrinkling her nose. “And we never did get the shoes clean enough to be tolerable. Mother threw those back down the privy hole. And when Father came to take us back to the estate, he wouldn’t let us bring the clothes back into the house even though we’d washed them.”

“And he made us take another bath,” Evan said.

“But we never did anything bad enough to make Mother dunk us in the privy hole,” Caitlin said proudly. “And now that we’re older, we don’t do things like that anymore.”

“I’m so glad,” Morag said faintly. A bit desperate, she looked around and felt almost weak with relief when Ashk and Padrick joined them.

Ashk smiled at the children. “There’s someone waiting to greet you. Just follow that path. You can leave the pony here,” she told Caitlin. Then she frowned at Evan. “Why did you ride behind your father? Where’s your pony?”

Evan gave Ashk a sweet smile. “I lent it to Ari, along with my little pony cart. It’s small enough to fit on most of the forest trails, and that way Ari won’t have to walk so much when she’s gathering her plants this summer.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Ashk said.

Padrick coughed. “Go on now. And remember to come back. You’re the guest of honor at this feast, and we can’t begin without you.”

The children grinned at him. Evan dashed down the path. Caitlin shoved the pony’s reins into her mother’s hand and ran after him.

“Morag?” Ashk said. “You look pale. Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’ve been talking to your children.”

“Oh, dear,” Ashk and Padrick said.

“I’ve never met children quite like them.”

Ashk gave her a cool look. “They’re not so different from other children.”

“Not the children here in the west,” Padrick said. “But, perhaps, different from the children who had grown up knowing only Tir Alainn?”

“Yes,” Morag said, relieved he understood—and then wondered why he understood so well.

“My Lady,” Padrick said, looking pointedly at Ashk.

“Morag,” Ashk said, “this is Padrick, the Baron of Breton—and my husband. Padrick, this is Morag, the Gatherer.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Morag,” Padrick said.

Morag stared at both of them. Husband? Not just mate?

She must have looked as startled as she felt, because Padrick said, “The gentry require a legal heir to a baron’s estate, so Ashk indulged me in following the human custom of marriage.”

“I see,” Morag said. But she didn’t see. Not really. A baron and a Lady of the Woods. Gentry and Fae. Not just living separately side by side in their own little pieces of the world, but weaving those pieces together.

Do you know how different all of you are from the rest of the Fae? Morag wondered.

The feral amusement in Ashk’s woodland eyes told her clearly that Ashk, at least, was quite aware that the Clan’s acceptance of her union with a gentry baron would be incomprehensible to Fae beyond the west.

When she saw that same feral amusement in Padrick’s eyes, understanding struck her as hard as a physical blow. She hadn’t looked beyond the human face and the gentry title, hadn’t considered there might be a reason to look beneath the surface. She should have considered it, especially after living with Neall and Ari for the past few days.

Padrick might be gentry and a baron, but he was also Fae.

“The children are returning,” Ashk said after a moment of long silence. “Shall we join the others for the feast?”

As the late afternoon gave way to evening, and the feasting gave way to the dancing and the music and the stories, Morag couldn’t shake the feeling that when she’d crossed into the territory of the western Clans, she’d crossed more of a boundary than she’d realized.

Declining to participate in another dance, she sat beside Ari, glad to have a moment when she could watch instead of being swept along in the celebration.

“Why didn’t you tell me Ashk was married to the local baron?” Morag asked, feeling a little hurt that she’d been excluded from what was, after all, common knowledge among this Clan. It reminded her too sharply that she was still an outsider, might always be an outsider.

“It didn’t occur to me,” Ari said. Then she hesitated. “You’ve said very little about where you’ve been over this past year, but I think we’ve all sensed it was a hard journey, for the heart as well as the body. You’ve had enough things to adjust to in the few days since you’ve come to live here.” She lightly touched Morag’s arm. “They’re different from the rest of the Fae, aren’t they?”

Morag looked at the men and women laughing and dancing, and almost—almost—understood something that had been eluding her since she’d arrived at this Clan house. “Yes, they’re different.”

In her bedroom at the Clan house, Ashk lay on her back in bed, dreamily watching the candlelight play with the shadows on the ceiling. The night air dried the sweat, chilling her skin except where Padrick’s arm lay heavy and warm across her belly and his head rested on her shoulder.

“If I were still a randy young man, my cock would already be willing to try again,” Padrick said.

“Hmm,” Ashk replied, too sated to think of anything else to say.

Padrick raised his head. “That’s the best you can do, woman? You’re supposed to say something flattering.”

Ashk turned her head to look at him. “A seasoned lover is better than a randy young man.”

He grunted. Dropped his head back down on her shoulder.

Ashk smiled. “So what were the three of you talking about this evening? You looked so serious.”

“Who?”

Now Ashk grunted. “You know very well who. You and Evan and Neall.”

“Oh. That. If you must know, we were comparing the size of our cocks.”

Ashk snorted. “Oh. Well. Must have been embarrassing when Evan came out the winner of that little contest.”

“You’ve never had any complaints when I stand at attention, wife,” Padrick grumbled.

She just grinned.

“Well,” he said, rolling onto his back. “You might as well know. Since you started it, you’ll have to finish it.”

“Started what?” Ashk said, sitting up so that she was in a better position to give her husband a narrow-eyed stare. “Finish what?”

“You should learn to be more careful about what you put in writing, darling wife.”

The way Padrick was smiling at her made her nervous. “I didn’t put anything in writing.”

His smiled widened. “Oh, now. Who was it who was feeling maudlin a few months ago because her firstborn was away at school on his birthday?”

“I wasn’t feeling maudlin!” But she had been. She’d just hoped Padrick hadn’t noticed.

“And who was it who fretted over only being able to send gifts that wouldn’t be remarked upon at a gentry school?”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Ashk said defensively, sensing a trap but not able to see the shape of it.

“And who was it who wrote that firstborn son a letter and told him that because he wasn’t home to celebrate his birthday, he could choose his gift when he came home?”

“So?” When he didn’t say anything, she wondered how he’d enjoy being shoved out of bed. “What’s that got—?” She began to see the shape of the trap. “What’s that got to do with Neall?”

“And who is it, my darling wife, who has some of the finest horses in the county?”

“A horse?” Ashk stared at her husband. “I never said Evan could have a horse!”

“And you never said he couldn’t.”

“He’s too young to have a horse. Besides, he has a pony.”

“No, he doesn’t. He lent the pony, and the little pony cart along with it, to Ari.”

“But—”

“Our boy learned more in this past year than could be found in schoolbooks. He’s made friends with a couple of boys from a well-to-do merchant family from eastern Sylvalan, and the three of them went over every word of that letter as if it were a contract full of fine print.”

“But—”

Padrick burst out laughing. “Oh, you should have heard him, Ashk, telling Neall how he’d been thinking of Ari walking through the woods for hours at a time to gather her plants, and her with a babe heavy in her belly, and how, being another man, he could appreciate that Neall would be carrying a bit of worry about that, which is why he offered Ari the loan of the pony and the cart, even though it meant he wouldn’t have a mount of his own. And then observing, just casual-like, that there’s that one gelding that Glenn brought with him when he came west to join Neall and Ari that really was too small for a grown man—”

“But an acceptable mount for a lady,” Ashk protested.

“—but it was a good horse, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Ashk opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap of her teeth.

“Yes,” Padrick said, grinning at her, “he softened Neall up like the sun softens butter.”

“It isn’t right to take advantage of Neall,” Ashk growled.

“Considering the wink he gave me after Evan walked away, I’d say Neall’s got a fair amount of horse trader in him, too.”

Ashk screamed—but quietly enough not to cause a commotion that would have people banging on the door wanting answers.

“So when you and Evan go over to bargain for the little horse, don’t make Neall do all the work of haggling himself down to the price he has in mind. You have to do your share in this bartering.”

“I don’t barter.”

Padrick took her hand, his expression turning serious. “Yes, you do. All the time. Just not for small things. Not for things like this.”

Ashk studied his face, studied the way the candle flame gave it light and shadows. “When do you have to leave for the barons’ council?”

“I should have left already, but I wanted to bring Evan home before I went. Don’t be worrying now,” he added, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. “I’ll go up to Tir Alainn and use the bridges between the Clan territories until I get to the southern end of the Mother’s Hills. That will save me a day’s travel, if not more.”

“You’ll need to ride a Fae horse if you’re planning to use the shining roads.”

“I can cloud a stable lad’s mind well enough for him to see nothing more than a fine but ordinary horse,” Padrick said.

“I know,” Ashk replied, smiling.

“And I can use the glamour to hide this gentry face behind the mask of looking Fae so that my presence in Tir Alainn won’t upset the Clans beyond the west.”

What would Morag have said if I’d told her that I loved a man who, because of the mingling of bloodlines over generations, was not only a gentry baron, but Fae, as well? Ashk wondered. If she’d shown contempt for our marriage, which is how I suspect other Fae beyond the western Clans would respond, it would have killed the friendship slowly growing between us. So whose feelings was I protecting by saying nothing until she was thrust into meeting Padrick and the children today? Morag’s? Or my own?

“I have to go, Ashk,” Padrick said softly. “It pains my heart to leave you, but I have to go to this council.”

She pulled herself from her own thoughts and realized he was genuinely troubled. “I know that. We each have the duties that go with who we are.” She studied him carefully. “What troubles you, Padrick?”

When he didn’t say anything, she waited. She’d learned over the years that when he had something on his mind, he collected his thoughts and then strung them together like beads before presenting them to her.

“Many things,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what I heard at the barons’ council last autumn. Didn’t like what I was hearing at the club where I’d dine so that I could listen to more than the other barons braying their opinions at each other. There were things happening back east last summer that bode ill for all of us, and it was as much what wasn’t said as what was that troubles me—especially when I could put those things together with what Neall told me about the Black Coats.”

Ashk shivered. Neall had been more willing to talk to Padrick than to her, but she’d learned enough from Padrick to share his uneasiness. And it occurred to her that if she truly wanted to know more, the person to ask was Morag.

Well, she would ask Morag. But not tonight.

“I’m also troubled by the merchant boys,” Padrick continued.

“You don’t approve of them as friends for Evan?” She wasn’t sure she approved of them since she was fairly certain Evan wouldn’t have thought of trying to corner her into buying him a horse at his age if there hadn’t been two coin-counting little brains helping him look at a mother’s loving words as a chip on the bartering table.

“They’re fine lads. Intelligent and lively, yet courteous and respectful. No, it’s not the boys themselves, but... There are good schools in the east—better schools than you can find in the west if the eastern barons can be believed. A wealthy merchant family is minor gentry. They wouldn’t have any trouble getting the boys into a school in the east. So why would an eastern merchant family send their boys so far from home?”

“Because they don’t care enough about the boys’ feelings to let them stay close to home?” Ashk said.

Padrick shook his head. “They care. The boys mentioned that their uncle, who captains one of their ships, brought his ship in to the nearest port and took a coach the rest of the way to bring them gifts from the family and spend the Winter Solstice with them since there wasn’t enough time for them to go home. When I went down to fetch Evan, their uncle was also there, and we talked for a bit. He mentioned that he’d like to find a nice harbor town here in the west, a place where he could establish a port of call for the family business. He said it all easily enough, but when he learned I was a baron, he was also quick to mention how it would benefit the towns here to have goods brought in by sea.”

Ashk stared at her husband. “He was offering a—what do you call it? A bribe?”

“In that he implied any goods I might be interested in could be gotten for a leaner price than I could get them elsewhere, yes, it was a bribe.”

Ashk sputtered. “What makes him think you’d accept such a thing—or that a man whose estate sits a day’s ride from the coast would have any influence?”

“But I do have influence, don’t I?” Padrick said quietly. “At least, at one harbor where there’s only a paper baron for whom I’ve been casting an absentee vote in the council for the past several years.”

“You really think he’d be interested in a ... a safe harbor surrounded by a village that has very few human residents?” Ashk said doubtfully.

“There’s power in him, Ashk. Not Fae, but there’s something in him that I recognized. And I think he sensed the magic in me, which is why he risked talking to me in the first place. I don’t think he’s looking for a safe harbor for his ship or that he gives a damn about expanding the trading territory to fill his family’s coffers. I think he’s really looking for a safe harbor for his family, something that’s established before they may need it. I think that’s why those boys are going to school here in the west. Safe harbor.” Padrick paused. “He also mentioned that his wife and young daughter were going to be visiting kin this summer, a place that borders the Mother’s Hills.”

A shiver went through Ashk. Not fear, exactly. More like the feeling of stepping into deep, cool shadows after spending time out in the sun when its heat lay heavy on the skin.

Watching her, Padrick nodded. “Oh, he never said the words. He was careful about that, always watching me to see if I understood and accepted or if he had said too much. But he mentioned that their kin’s property was fine land, and held a fine woods. An old woods.”

“An Old Place,” Ashk said softly. “You think his family has roots in the House of Gaian?”

“I’m not sure if they wanted to impress me or Evan, but before he could stop them, his nephews were boasting about how their uncle had never lost a ship at sea, had never limped into port after a bad storm. They said when a storm blew up, their uncle would stand at the bow of his ship, would tie himself to the railing if need be, and call to the sea—and no matter how fierce the storm, no matter how high the waves, the sea would let his ship pass safely through.”

“Mother’s mercy.”

“So, yes, I think it’s safe to assume his family has roots in the House of Gaian. And that puts them all at risk.”

“You’ll find a safe harbor for him and his,” Ashk said, not really asking a question since she realized he’d almost set his mind to doing just that.

“I wanted to talk with you first.”

“You’ll find a safe harbor for him and his,” she repeated.

Padrick sighed as if he’d just been relieved of a great weight. “They have a shipping office in Durham. I have the name of the cousin who runs it. I’ll leave a message to be passed on.”

And I’ll talk to Morag, Ashk thought.

“While I’m gone, I’d like the children to stay with you.”

“Of course. I can play lady of the manor for a week or two.”

“No. I’d like them to stay here. With you.”

Ashk sorted through the feelings she heard behind the words—and didn’t like them. “I know your people aren’t that comfortable with dealing with me, but—”

“They’re more comfortable than you seem to think,” Padrick said sharply. “Mother’s tits, Ashk. The farm folk don’t leave trinkets or other little offerings in order to placate the Fae as they might do in other places. They do it in the hopes that whoever they’re leaving it for might show up while they’re still there, might talk with them a bit. Do you realize how many of them showed up at Neall and Ari’s door when they arrived here last summer, offering a bit of baking or a dish of food? How many of the men gave up a day of working their own land to help Neall? How many of the women came to clean the cottage because Ari was still too fragile to do the heavy work by herself? Those things weren’t done out of fear of the witch and the young Lord of the Woods. They were done because the people wanted to know Ari and Neall.”

Ashk looked down at their joined hands. “I didn’t realize. Not completely. The truth is, I’m still not comfortable being around most humans. Many of their ways still seem strange to me.”

Padrick put his other hand over hers. “It hasn’t been so many years that both sides have tried to know each other more openly. Before that, we were always aware of each other but, for the most part, always apart.”

“I’ll stay at the manor house. It will be good practice for me to deal with the people when you’re not there to take care of things.”

“No,” Padrick said firmly. He paused. “My people are servants or farmers. In the village, they’re merchants and tailors and seamstresses and bakers. They’re good people, but... they’re not the Fae. They don’t grow up with a bow in their hands. While I’m gone, it will ease my heart to know the children are safe here—with you.”

“If I make that promise to ease your heart, what will you promise to ease mine?” Ashk asked. “Where you’re going, you’ll find no safety in the woods.”

“I’ll take care, wife. That I promise. And I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

When he leaned forward to kiss her, she turned her face away, then put one hand on his shoulder to let him know she wasn’t refusing his touch but there was something more to say.

“My grandfather is in the woods.”

“I thought that’s who you had sent the children to see before the feast,” Padrick said. “I’m sorry he didn’t choose to join us. Was he feeling poorly after the journey?”

She felt herself stepping away from the light, going deeper into the shadows of the woods, could almost hear blood dripping from her knife onto the leaves beneath her feet. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon. Soon.

“The old Lord is in the woods,” she repeated, putting a sharper emphasis on the words. “He hasn’t come to the Clan house. He hasn’t changed to his human form at all since he arrived.”

“I see.”

But he didn’t see. Not really. His Fae heritage had lain dormant inside him—and might have remained dormant if they hadn’t become lovers, if it hadn’t been awakened by the continued presence of her strength and particular gift. He understood her Clan better than she understood his humans, but he didn’t understand this.

Padrick took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I’ll talk to Forrester when I stop at the manor house to pick up my saddlebags. He and his gamekeepers will keep an eye out for your grandfather.”

“It’s not that—but I’m grateful to you for thinking of it.”

Ashk closed her eyes. Pieces of the past few days were swirling around in her mind, trying to form a pattern. She just couldn’t see it yet. “First Morag arrives. Why here? Why now? Did she truly choose the road at random that led her to this Clan, or was her gift guiding her here, so subtly she still doesn’t realize she was summoned? Then my grandfather, the old Lord of the Woods, arrives. There’s something he knows, something he senses. But he keeps to his stag form, stays in the woods because it’s the clearest way he has to show me whatever it is that brought him here. And you’re approached by a sea merchant whose family has ties to the House of Gaian. They’re all connected. Somehow.” She shook her head. The pattern won’t come if you try to force it. Think of something else. Her eyes snapped open. “Curse the barons’ council twice over! You won’t be back home in time for the Summer Moon.”

Padrick studied her carefully, as if trying to decipher her change in mood. “And will you go out walking that night, darling Ashk?”

“Oh, I’ll go out walking that night, but I won’t be wearing a form any other man would want to cuddle.”

He grinned. “I love the feel of your fur beneath my hands. All thick and soft.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No. It’s too hot, and I’m shedding something fierce.”

“Ah, well, then. I’ll give you a good brushing when I get home.”

“And if you let anything but your eyes roam that night, I’ll pluck you, my fine hawk.”

He took her hand, pressed it against his cock. “The bird’s already plucked, but quite willing to be petted.”

Laughing, Ashk pulled him down on top of her.