The House of Gaian

Chapter 25

Aiden hurried toward the Clan house, anxious to locate the Clan's bard or minstrel and find out if there was any news or messages. Once the Fae here realized the Hunter had arrived in their piece of Tir Alainn, it would take hours to get a coherent sentence out of anyone who could provide information. The Clan house would be in an uproar while people scrambled to figure out how to feed and provide beds for Ashk, her companions, and the hundred men who now rode with her.

Ashk's ultimatum to the Fae had raced ahead of her, and the Clans had offered a wary welcome when she arrived in their territory to rest for a few hours before moving on again. Among the Clans who had already been staggered by the Huntress's ultimatum, the Hunter was considered the lesser threat. At least Ashk was one of them, even if she did come from a western Clan. The new Lady of the Moon, a witch from the Mother's Hills, was so far outside their experience they didn't know what to do—except fear her and, out of fear, obey.

So the ranks of Ashk's fighting men had swelled as the Clans, anxious to prove their sincere intentions of helping drive the Black Coats out of Sylvalan, simply sent the required number of men with her. After all, the Huntress couldn't fault the Clans if the men were in the Hunter's company and obeying her orders.

Privately, Aiden suspected the Fae were hoping a conflict between the Hunter and the Huntress would end with the death of one or both of them. Regardless of the outcome, the meeting of this Hunter and Huntress would be sung by every bard and minstrel for years to come.

He couldn't honestly say he was looking forward to witnessing it.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he hurried across a courtyard—then stopped abruptly as a door opened and the last person he wanted to meet walked toward him.

"Lightbringer," Aiden said uneasily.

Lucian smiled. "Aiden! Well met!"

Wary now, Aiden approached Lucian. "That's not what you said the last time we guested at the same Clan house."

Lucian's smile faded. "I know. That was not well done on my part. I was angry and—" He stiffened.

Hearing the quiet scuff of feet on stone, Aiden knew who now claimed the Lightbringer's attention.

Turning toward him, Lucian said softly, hurriedly, "We need to talk privately before you leave here."

"I'm not sure—"

"Please, Aiden."

There was an eloquent plea in Lucian's gray eyes that Aiden couldn't refuse. Despite their clashes over the past year, they were still kin on their fathers' side. "All right. After the evening meal. Things should be settled down by then." Or as settled as they are going to be, he added silently as he turned toward Ashk and the others. He noted Lyrra's apprehension as she glanced from Morag to Lucian.

Mother's mercy. Morag, with her unpredictable moods of late, wasn't someone he wanted near Lucian any longer than necessary.

"Hunter," Aiden said quickly, "may I present Lucian, the Lightbringer. Lucian, this is Ashk."

Lucian made a slight bow, keeping his eyes on Ashk. "Well met, Hunter. I've heard a great deal about you lately. After so many years of silence, you've made your presence felt in Tir Alainn."

"As you have made your presence felt, Lightbringer," Ashk replied. "Your denial of what's happening in Sylvalan has cost so many people suffering and sorrow, if not outright death. Because you are the Lord of the Sun, more witches have died since last summer, more Clans have been lost. That's what your presence has done for the Fae and the other peoples of Sylvalan."

Lucian stared at her. "You're blaming me for what the Black Coats have done?"

"I'm blaming you for not protecting, not defending, not doing anything while the Inquisitors have continued their slaughter of witches and their mutilation of other women's bodies and spirits.

"I'm blaming you for being so blindly selfish that even when you understood the cost, you chose to ignore that the Fae have a duty to the world. We've always had a duty to the world. Now, instead of fighting against a few barons and Inquisitors, we have armies marching toward us, intent on snuffing out all magic in the world. And that means the Fae as well as the witches and Small Folk. So, yes, Lightbringer, I do blame you for what the Black Coats have done. Without your willful insistence that the Fae didn't have to do anything to protect Sylvalan, the Inquisitors couldn't have destroyed so much, couldn't have killed so many."

Lucian paled. "How dare you!"

"Look at the bodies of those who have died, and you won't have to ask how I dare," Ashk said. "Look at the women whose lives have been crushed by the Inquisitors' words and a physician's knife, and you won't have to ask. Look at the Old Places that are gone—and the Clans that are gone with them."

"So your solution is to threaten your own kind."

"The world was not made to supply the Fae with amusements and treats. It's time they were reminded of that. It's time they remembered the world is made of shadows as well as light."

Lucian and Ashk stared at each other. Aiden held his breath. Lucian had challenged the new Huntress—and lost that confrontation. He couldn't be foolish enough to push Ashk into a challenge, could he?

Finally, Lucian said, "I hope you're right, Hunter. I hope forcing the Fae into this conflict truly is the right thing to do. If it's not, the only thing the surviving Fae will remember about you is that you destroyed us." He turned and walked back into the Clan house.

Aiden let out a gusty sigh of relief. One evening. One uncomfortable evening in the same Clan house. Surely they could get through a few hours without fighting with each other.

Then he looked at Morag, saw a bleak fury in her dark eyes, and felt something wash through him that was so cold it bit down to the bone. Before he could decide if he should say something, Ashk linked arms with the Gatherer and walked toward the Clan house.

Someone touched his arm.

"Aiden?" Lyrra said, her eyes filled with concern.

He put his arms around her, needing her warmth. Would Ashk be angry with him for meeting privately with Lucian? Would Morag?

But this wasn't about the Lightbringer and the Bard. This was a meeting between two men who were kin. Surely they would understand that—and appreciate the difference.

Nevertheless, he would keep his meeting with Lucian as private as possible—and hope Ashk and Morag didn't find out about it until they were all long gone from this place.

"They're bitches, both of them," Lucian said, staring fiercely at the wood carefully arranged in the fireplace.

That was true enough, Aiden thought wearily, since Ashk and Selena were shadow hounds in their other form. At another time, he might have tried to play with words to make bitch mean other than what Lucian intended. But the truth was, he was exhausted. The Clan, taking courage from the Lightbringer's presence, hadn't quite told Ashk that they wouldn't heed her command to send huntsmen down to Sylvalan to help in the fight that was coming; they'd simply insisted that they were keeping careful watch on the witches to make sure the women came to no harm. He would never know how Ashk would have responded because Morag had stood up then and said in a voice that was far too calm and too quiet that if anything happened to the witches, the Fae had better hope that the shining road closed quickly, because if there was any way for her to reach them, there would be no one left but the dead.

There was no argument Ashk could make after that, even after Morphia led her sister from the room. He didn't know what was pushing Morag to the edge of sanity, but he was certain he didn't want to be around her when she finally lost control.

And now, having pushed Lyrra out of their room with no more explanation than a request for an hour's privacy, he was sitting on the bed listening to Lucian's complaints.

"They're going to destroy the Fae, you know that, don't you?" Lucian said, still staring at the fireplace. "Maybe I am selfish, but I've never terrified my people into obedience. That's what they're doing, Aiden. One threatens our home, the other threatens an essential part of our nature. They're ruthless, cruel bitches who used tricks to gain the power they have, and now the rest of us will have to pay for it."

"You didn't help matters by doing nothing this past year," Aiden said quietly. "You not only gave the Clans the excuses they wanted to justify doing nothing to protect Sylvalan, you continued to encourage those excuses, even though you knew who the witches were. You were the one who insisted the Daughters of the House of Gaian were no more than servants whose purpose was to serve, and service, the Fae."

"It's so easy for you, isn't it?" Lucian said bitterly as he turned to face Aiden. "You're not alone, are you, Bard? You have the woman who matters to you. You can hold her, talk to her, feel the pleasure of her under you at night. You don't have the anger of grief and the guilt of failure haunting your nights. Well, I do." He turned back to the fireplace, his voice now filled with sorrow. "I do. When Morag offered me that damned bargain, I almost took it, almost offered my life in exchange. But I had a duty to the Fae." He laughed grimly. "Look what my duty has brought me."

Aiden stood up, a sick feeling rolling through him. "What are you talking about?"

"Ari." Lucian put his hands on the mantel, letting his arms take his weight as he sagged in defeat. "I'm talking about Ari."

Aiden took a step forward, unsure what to do. Lyrra held his heart, and if something happened to her because of something he hadn't done, the grief would crush him. He knew that. But. . . "I know you cared for Ari," he said carefully, "but I never suspected it was more than you've felt for any other lover."

"Why should you have suspected anything?" Lucian's voice broke. "She sent me away. Did you know that? I was no longer welcome at her cottage because she had decided to marry that. . . human. So I wasn't close enough when the Black Coats came. I wasn't fast enough to save her."

Aiden raked a hand through his hair. Something wasn't right. Couldn't be right. "If you cared for her, why have you fought against helping other witches?"

"Because I couldn't stand knowing that Ari died because I had failed. And there you were with your eloquent pleas and demands to protect the witches, constantly reminding me of the woman I had lost, shoving it down my throat until I was sure I would choke on it. So I dismissed their importance, denied what they are. I couldn't seem to do anything else."

"I. . . I didn't know, Lucian. I didn't know." Would a man deny so much to diminish grief? Yes. Oh, yes. And looking at it that way changed Lucian's actions into something Aiden understood. But he was too tired and couldn't quite get his brain to think past his heart even though he sensed something was off-key about the conversation. Still, he said hesitantly, "She would have left Brightwood anyway. She couldn't have a decent life there."

"She would have had us instead of those paltry humans," Lucian said fiercely, regrets giving way to anger as he faced Aiden again. "We would have dealt with the villagers, and they wouldn't have dared slight her."

"You didn't do that while you were her lover. She wouldn't have any reason to think you'd do it when you were no longer lovers."

"We would have been lovers. The Fae would have been her companions. She would have wanted for nothing."

Except love, Aiden thought bleakly. Except respect and loyalty. But was that true? Had he misunderstood the depth of Lucian's feelings for Ari? "You wouldn't have been faithful to her, Lucian. You know that."

"Faithful." Lucian spat out the word. "That's a human word. I cared for her. But if what I offered wasn't enough to convince her to stay, I would have let her go with that fool. Despite the problems it would have caused for my Clan, despite my own feelings, despite everything, I would have let her go." His voice broke. He put his hands over his face.

Aiden couldn't stand seeing a man who had once been a friend and was still kin break under a year's guilt and grief.

"Lucian . . ." He stepped forward, rested a hand on Lucian's arm. "Do you mean that? You really would have let her go?"

Lucian lowered his hands away from his face, and said wearily, "If it had been Lyrra, wouldn't you rather know she was living somewhere without you than to have died under the Black Coats' hands?"

"She survived." Aiden tried to stop the words, tried to think it through, but he couldn't think anymore, could only feel. "She got away from the Black Coats."

He watched all emotion drain from Lucian's face.

"Morag lied to me?" Lucian said in a queer voice.

"No," Aiden said quickly. "No. She told you Ari was gone, and that was true."

"She knew what I'd think. What Dianna and I both thought."

Lucian stared at Aiden. "You knew, didn't you? You knew Ari wasn't dead."

Aiden shook his head. "I suspected. I hoped. But I didn't know for sure."

Lucian took a step to the side. "You knew. All this time, you knew."

"I didn't know."

"Then how can you be certain now?" Lucian demanded. "Just because she got away from the Black Coats doesn't mean she survived."

"We saw her when—" Uneasy now as he watched anger fill Lucian's eyes, Aiden finished clumsily, "We saw her when we were traveling in the west."

"You saw her, and yet you said nothing until now, sent no messages to me or Dianna."

"There was no reason to say anything, no reason to send any messages. Ari is happy where she is. She'll never come back to Brightwood."

"My sister was challenged and lost to that cold-blooded bitch because her power was being drained by having to be the anchor for our Clan's territory—something Ari should have been doing."

"No," Aiden said. "You said you would have let her go."

"Where would she have gone?" Lucian said furiously. "If Morag had gathered that human when Dianna asked her to, Ari would have stayed."

"And she would have died! Neall got her away from the Inquisitors. That's the reason she survived." This wasn't right. Where was the grief, the guilt, the regrets that had filled the room a few moments ago? Where was the relief that the woman Lucian cared about had survived?

"So he survived as well. That's something that can be changed, and once Ari is back at Brightwood—"

"Lucian, no." Aiden grabbed Lucian's arms. "They're in love, and they're happy, and she's growing fat with their first child. You can't take her away from her husband and home. You said you cared for her. Be glad she's well, Lucian, and let her go."

"Be glad of what?" Lucian snapped, jerking his arms to break Aiden's hold. "That she let a human fill her belly?"

Was that what the anger was about? That Ari had chosen a human over the Lightbringer? "Not a human, Lucian. Neall is Fae. A Lord of the Woods. He has a human face, true enough, but he's Fae."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Where is she?"

Aiden shook his head.

Lucian stared at Aiden. "You went west to find the Hunter, didn't you? You brought that bitch down on us."

"She would have come regardless. After the Black Coats attacked her Clan, she would have come east to fight them whether I found her or not."

"You wouldn't have stayed long in one place while you were looking for the Hunter. And you would have wanted to stay, at least a day or two, if you'd found Ari first."

Aiden didn't dare say anything. Here was the anger he'd seen over the past year—the sneering anger that had cost them all so much.

"The Bretonwood Clan. Isn't that where the Hunter comes from? Yes, I'm sure that's the Clan that was mentioned. Does Bretonwood have a witch to anchor the shining road in the Old Place? A witch who should be living at Brightwood?"

Aiden said nothing.

"Just as well you don't answer. You lied to me, Bard."

"No more than you've lied to me this evening. You used my heart against me, Lucian. You used our kinship as a weapon. I won't forget that, nor will I forgive it."

"And I won't forgive your betrayal, Aiden. You should have supported Dianna and me. But that doesn't matter now. Once Ari is back at Brightwood, Dianna will regain her full power, and we'll take care of that usurper who stole her place as the Lady of the Moon." Lucian took a step toward the door.

"No!" Aiden grabbed Lucian's arms.

Heat filled his hands. Searing, staggering heat. He screamed as they burst into flames.

Lucian shoved him. He fell against the bed, scrambled wildly to pull the covers around his burning hands and smother the flames. He heard Lucian fling the door open and run down the corridor.

He howled out his anguish, but he couldn't have said if the cry was for the pain in his hands or his heart.

Half-listening to the story Lyrra was telling Morphia, Sheridan, and Morag, Ashk moved closer to the door. Her keen hearing was picking up the sound of male voices—arguing. Who was arguing?

She opened the door a crack. Morphia and Sheridan had the room next to this one, which she was sharing with Morag. Aiden and Lyrra were across the hall from Morphia and Sheridan.

When Lyrra knocked on the door a little while ago, she said Aiden wanted a little privacy. But the voices were coming from their room. Who was Aiden talking to? Why not tell Lyrra he wanted to talk to someone instead of implying he wanted some time alone?

Unless he didn't want anyone to know he'd arranged to talk to someone. And there was only one person she could think of whom Aiden would prefer to meet in secret.

Her stomach tightened. She turned away from the door. She didn't want to lose her trust in Aiden, not only because she liked him but because the Bard was a strong ally.

Then she heard a scream of pain, heard a door flung open.

Whipping her own door open, she saw Lucian running down the corridor to the staircase.

Hearing an anguished cry, she rushed into the other room, then froze for a moment when she saw Aiden half sprawled on the bed, a thin curl of smoke rising from the covers bunched over his hands.

She was across the room, grabbing the pitcher of water, before Lyrra reached the doorway and screamed, "Aiden!"

Lyrra stumbled in her haste to reach Aiden, catching herself before she fell against him. She rested her hands on his shoulders, her eyes full of panic as she stared at the covers hiding his hands.

Ashk tugged at the covers just enough to get past the top layer, then poured the water over the rest. The sheet was charred, but she couldn't see Aiden's hands yet.

Sheridan burst, into the room. "Ashk?"

"More water. Now!"

Gasping, Aiden said, "I'm sorry," over and over.

"Who did this?" Ashk snapped. "Was it Lucian?"

Aiden nodded.

Sheridan returned, carrying two water pitchers from other rooms. As Ashk grabbed one from him, she saw Morag standing in the doorway.

"Where is Lucian?" Morag asked.

Ashk bared her teeth. "Who cares where—" She stopped. Stared at Morag. Then she looked at Aiden. "Does he know about Ari? Does he know where to find her?"

"I didn't tell him," Aiden gasped. "Only that she was alive. But he guessed . . . because I'm traveling with you."

Ashk looked up.

Morag was already gone.

One thing at a time. "Get the basin and fill it with water," she told Sheridan. When the basin was on the bed and filled, she reached for the sodden cloth over Aiden's hands.

Shuddering, Aiden closed his eyes. Lyrra turned her head.

Carefully, Ashk lifted the cloth—and sighed with relief. Lightly gripping his wrists, she raised his hands high enough for Sheridan to push the basin under them. Then she gently lowered Aiden's hands into the water.

Not what she'd feared. Nothing like she'd feared. A few blisters were rising, and his hands were a bright red. She'd seen skin that red when young farmers foolishly stripped to the waist and worked in the fields all day early in planting season. She doubted Aiden would be comfortable for a few days, but he would be all right.

"Stay with him." She ran out of the room and down the corridor, passing Morphia and the Clan healer the Sleep Sister must have fetched.

Down the stairs and through the communal rooms. Out of the Clan house, running through the gardens until she reached the stable.

"Have you seen the Lightbringer?" she panted. Her anger grew fangs when no one answered until one of her own men stepped forward.

"He came out of the Clan house a little while ago," the huntsman said. "He changed to his other form and galloped toward the bridge that connects to the Clan just west of here." He shrugged. "We thought he'd decided to guest elsewhere tonight."

"What about the Gatherer?"

Now he looked uncomfortable. "She saddled her horse in a hurry and headed out in the same direction.

Ashk stared at him, a cold lump growing in her belly.

He shifted his feet, uneasy now. "She didn't have her saddlebags. Said there wasn't time to fetch them when we offered to get them for her, so we made sure she had a canteen for water and a small bag of grain for the horse. She wouldn't wait for anything else."

Ashk nodded. "You did what you could."

She walked back to the Clan house, fighting the urge to ride out after Morag. Lucian had the advantage—at least until he reached the western Clans. After that. . .

She couldn't catch up to them. Foolish to even try. Besides, the waxing moon was growing larger every night—and her task was still ahead of her, in the east.

As she reached the terrace, she stopped and looked toward the west. "Find him, Morag," she said softly. "Find him . . . and do what needs to be done."