The House of Gaian

Chapter 20

"I can't travel any more today," Dianna said, slumping in the saddle as if exhausted. She peeked through her lashes at Connor, her Clan's Lord of the Deer and her senior escort on this twice-cursed journey, and felt uneasy when his expression became grimmer, harder. It was bad enough that she'd lost her place as the Lady of the Moon to that half-breed bitch and was savagely injured in the bargain, but her escorts' lack of sympathy on the way back to Brightwood hurt as much as her physical pain.

Connor waved on the other three escorts, who rode a few more lengths before reining in. Then he looked her over, his grim expression never changing. "There's still plenty of day left to travel, and the bridge to the next Clan's territory is a short one. We can stop there until morning."

True enough, but going on to the next Clan meant they were a hard day's ride from Brightwood—and she didn't want to get back to Brightwood until she figured out how to get someone else to act as the anchor for the Old Place's magic. "I tell you I can't travel any more today. I need rest if my arm is ever going to heal."

"You traveled well enough while we were still in the midlands," Connor said suspiciously. "You had no complaints about a full day's travel then. You didn't start whining about your arm until we reached the southern Clans and were closer to home."

"I endured the pain because I felt it was important to leave the midlands," Dianna replied coldly, pride making her sit up straight in the saddle. "It would have been awkward if she showed up at a Clan house where I was staying. No Clan is going to accept her as the Lady of the Moon while I'm present."

Connor let out a short, harsh laugh. "It's time you looked at the world as it is and not how you want it to be. No Fae is going to defy the new Huntress. No one, Dianna, is going to want to face her wrath because of some foolish show of defiance."

"She's a half-breed witch who shouldn't have been there in the first place," Dianna snapped.

"Since she was drawn to the place where the Ladies of the Moon were gathered, I'd say she was meant to be there."

"Meant? Meant?" Dianna's voice rose to a shriek. "She knows nothing about the Fae."

"That is true, but she understands more about the world than you ever did. And I'm thinking that maybe that's why she ascended. Maybe we need someone who can remind us of our place in the world."

"We. Are. The. Fae. That is our place in the world!" Why couldn't he see that? How could he have forgotten that?

Connor looked at her with open dislike. "You and Lucian both did well enough as leaders when you only had to deal with the Fae, but you played with the Brightwood witch as if her life were a casual amusement, and what came of that? The Blacks Coats. That's what came of it. And the only one who tried to help her was the Lord of the Horse."

"And it killed him."

"It killed him because he was the only one in the fight."

Dianna stared at him. "You're blaming Lucian . . . and me . . . for that?"

Connor looked away. Stared hard at the Clan house in the distance. Finally, reluctantly, "No, I'm not blaming you and Lucian for that. We all share the blame, and the shame, of having lost the witch. If we'd made the effort to know her before last summer, maybe it would have made a difference. And I'm thinking that if we'd listened to the Bard and the Gatherer a year ago, some of the Clans that have disappeared since spring would still be with us, would still be able to do something to change things."

"You think too much," Dianna said, but a ball of sickness started forming in her belly.

"A man has plenty of time to think on long winter nights."

She shuddered. She was not going to spend a winter in the cottage at Brightwood. She wasn't.

Connor continued to stare at the Clan house. "But you wouldn't know about that. You wouldn't know about the struggle to build a mean little place to live that doesn't quite keep out the cold sea winds. You wouldn't know about not having quite enough to eat or making do with blankets that are fine in Tir Alainn but aren't warm enough in the human world. No, you stayed away and let Lyrra learn those things."

"I was the Lady of the Moon and had duties to all the Fae. It was Lyrra's selfishness—"

"Lyrra wasn't from our Clan. She didn't have to stay as long as she did. She didn't have to stay at all. And as the Muse, she had duties to all the Fae, too. If she'd left us during the winter, we wouldn't have blamed her. We didn't blame her when she did leave this spring. At least, none of us at Brightwood. But I've been hearing plenty on this journey, Dianna. Hearing about how you twisted the way of things—"

"I twisted nothing!"

"—to put Lyrra in the wrong for leaving, hearing how the Clans wouldn't give her or the Bard any help because the only reason she left was to keep Aiden's bed warm so he wouldn't look elsewhere for company. Selfish? Aye, there's been selfishness in all of this, but it hasn't been Aiden's or Lyrra's doing."

Dianna's heart pounded, causing her wounded arm to throb. "You wouldn't be saying any of this if that bitch hadn't tricked the power into believing she could be the Lady of the Moon!"

Connor finally looked at her. "Tricked, is it?"

"I wouldn't have lost the challenge if my strength hadn't been drained by anchoring the magic at Brightwood!" She had to believe that. Needed to believe that.

He shook his head, looking weary and sad. "I was your escort when you ascended to become the Lady of the Moon. Since it wasn't that many years ago, I remember it well. So I'm telling you, Dianna—you never were what she is. You don't know what she knows. Mother's tits, woman! She danced with the moon! She created a bridge out of moonlight. What she did in that clearing before . . . before things went sour . . . was something the Bard should have witnessed and set to music."

Dianna felt her lips quiver, felt the sting of tears. "You like her better than me."

"I think she's the Huntress we need in the days ahead."

Anger, hot and bitter, welled up inside her. "If that's what you think, then get her to find an anchor for Brightwood because I am not going back to a place that won't appreciate the sacrifice I made by using my power that way."

A long pause. Then Connor said quietly, "You weren't going back anyway, were you? That's what all the delays and complaints have been about since we reached the southern Clans. You've been trying to find someone who would yield to your pleas to help you anchor the magic while your arm healed. But if someone else agreed to help, you would have stayed in Tir Alainn to recover and never set foot in Brightwood, expecting us to make that person enough of a captive that she wouldn't be able to leave. That would have suited you quite well, wouldn't it have, Dianna?"

Yes, that would have suited her. Was there anyone in the Clan who wouldn't be trying to do the same thing if they were in her place?

"So I'll tell you this now," Connor continued quietly. "We've been talking to the squire, since he's the leader of the humans left around Ridgeley. They're mostly farmers and a few craftsmen. They've been afraid to rebuild the village. Don't really want to rebuild on the same ground. They say some of them feel the presence of too many ghosts there. But they're also afraid to buy supplies from the nearby villages to the east, especially since there're rumors that things are turning bad at Seahaven. They don't want the Black Coats looking at Ridgeley again."

It was hard to swallow, hard to breathe. "What does that have to do with the Fae?"

"We've worked out a barter. We'll act as traders to get the supplies from villages in this part of the south and sell them to the humans in exchange for supplying some of the food and grains we need, as well as helping us build sturdier cottages to live in."

"You're going to sweat and toil like humans? How will you face the other Fae?"

"I'm thinking they're going to learn a bit about sweat and toil themselves. And if the Black Coats come in force, they'll learn about bleeding and dying as well." He let out a gusty sigh. "So here's your choice. We're going on to the next Clan territory. We want to get home. You can come back with us and be the anchor we need to hold the Old Place's magic—or you can stay here in Tir Alainn."

A giddy excitement filled her. He wasn't being unreasonable after all. "I can stay?"

Connor nodded. "But if you stay, you will no longer be welcome in the Clan's piece of the Fair Land."

The excitement turned dark and brittle. "What do you mean I won't be welcome? That's my Clan. They won't shun me."

"Oh, we won't shun you. We'll throw you over the back of a horse and take you back over a bridge to another Clan's territory. We'll bear them no hard feelings if they welcome you, but we'll not have you with us. It's your choice, Dianna. What will it be?"

"I have to decide now?"

"Now."

"I don't believe it. You may think you can make ultimatums, but I'm sure the Clan elders have something to say about it!"

There was pity in the way he looked at her, as if he suddenly remembered the days when they'd all been so proud of her. "That is what the elders say about it."

Tears filled her eyes. Her Clan was betraying her, abandoning her. All because that bitch had stolen her place as the Lady of the Moon. They wouldn't have done this if she were still the female leader of the Fae. "But I suppose Lucian will still receive a warm welcome," she said bitterly. He'd backed down. That's what was being whispered in the Clans. Instead of insisting that Selena yield to a Lady who was really Fae, when the Huntress had done a bit of her thunder-rumble witch magic, he'd backed down. Her brother. Her twin. Even he had abandoned her.

"The Clan will still welcome Lucian," Connor said quietly. "But I'm thinking that he won't find many who will listen to the manure he spews about witches being servants and the Fae being above the concerns of the world. And I'm thinking that, now that the minstrels and bards are looking hard for Aiden, when he shows up again, we're all going to be listening a lot more carefully to what the Bard has to say." He paused. "What will it be, Dianna?"

"I can't ride any more today," she said, her voice breaking.

Connor gathered his reins. "Good luck to you, then." Giving his horse the signal to move on, he cantered off, passing the other escorts, who glanced back at her before urging their horses forward to catch up to him.

Dianna stared at them. They wouldn't leave her. Not really. Connor was just trying to make her do what he wanted. And who was he, anyway? The Lord of the Deer. The leader of the Clan's huntsmen. Someone nowhere near as important as a Lady of the Moon. . . who would have no status at all if her own Clan wouldn't acknowledge her.

She waited for them to stop, to come back for her, to cajole her into going back to Brightwood.

She waited—and then kicked her mare into a gallop to catch up to them. They'd stop at the Clan house for a bit of a rest and a bite to eat. Surely they would. That would give them the chance to tell her how important she was to the Clan. That would give Connor a chance to apologize for the harsh things he'd said. Surely they would stop.

She was still too far away to catch up to them when she saw Connor lift a hand in greeting as he passed the stableyard and continued on to the bridge that would take him and the other escorts to the next Clan territory.

She slowed the mare to a walk, letting the animal make its own way to the stableyard. She couldn't see well enough to guide it since her eyes kept filling with tears.

The mare stopped. A hand lightly touched hers.

"Lady Dianna?"

Sniffling, she looked at that Clan's Lord of the Horse—and suddenly remembered that no one had ascended to become the Lord of the Horse after Ahern died.

"Your escorts rode by a little while ago," he said, studying her.

"I couldn't ride anymore today. My arm." She lifted the heavily bandaged arm—and thought she still saw doubt in his eyes. "I told them to go on since the Brightwood Clan will be eager for the news."

"The news has traveled fast," he said with a hint of grimness. "I expect they already know."

What could they possibly know without hearing her side of it?

He held up both hands. "Here. I'll help you dismount and take you over to the Clan house. Things are a bit. . . scrambled . . . right now, but someone will see that you have a meal and a place to rest."

Dianna waited until he was leading her to the Clan house before asking, "Scrambled? Why are things scrambled?"

"As I said, news travels fast. The men who have the skill and training to defend the Old Place are preparing to do so. And the elders are selecting gifts to bring to the witches."

Bitterness filled Dianna's throat. "So you're going to dance to the Huntress's tune, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. We don't want to be closed off from the human world—and if the Black Coats defeat the humans in Sylvalan, there might not be any place for us in the world. So we're going down to defend the Old Place and the witches who live there."

"I'll only be staying tonight, so I won't inconvenience you for too long," Dianna said, holding on to her battered pride.

"That's fine."

It wasn't the reply she wanted, but, she discovered as she stayed in her room and felt the hours drag by, it had been the only reply she'd received from any of them.

If that's the way they wanted it, so be it. Let them scramble to please the new Huntress. Let them see what it was like to live day after day in the human world.

Let that bitch Huntress deal with the Black Coats. They deserved one another.