The Pillars of the World

Chapter Eighteen

“It’s not that I’m not grateful to have soup and bread to eat,” Ari muttered as she stirred the vegetable soup without enthusiasm. “But it’s all I’ve had to eat since yesterday.”

Didn’t matter. There wasn’t quite enough flour to make a new loaf of bread. By tomorrow, this watery soup she’d put together from the dwindling supply of vegetables she had canned last harvest would be the only thing she could put on the table. There were enough greens in the garden to enjoy the taste of something fresh, but not enough to fill an empty belly. She had done her best last year when she’d faced doing all the work alone for the first time. This year she would simply have to do better.

This was the last evening before the dark of the moon, the last evening when she was bound to the promise she had made at the Summer Moon. That didn’t matter either. She knew Lucian wouldn’t come simply to visit. Just as well. Her heart was feeling a bit raw and tender. She didn’t need to be told again in one way or another that men only found her interesting when she provided sex.

“Hullo the house!”

Hurrying to look out the open half of the kitchen door, Ari winced when she saw Neall check his stride as he noticed the wash that was still drying on the line. She knew she was blushing because he’d seen her underclothes, and she hoped he wouldn’t know what the long rectangles of cloth were for.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as soon as he was close enough to speak without raising his voice.

He knew.

“I’m fine, Neall. And you?”

“I’m fine as well.” He looked over her shoulder. “Are you alone?”

Pride nipped her. “No, I’m not—” She clamped her teeth. There was no reason to snap at Neall—or let wounded pride make her dishonest. “Yes, I’m alone.” She hesitated, then added in a low voice, “I’m not expecting anyone.”

He gave her a sweet, almost wistful smile. “Want some company? Besides my own charming self—and this idiotic beast,” he grumbled as he put his shoulder against Darcy, who was trying to push past him, and shoved. “Wait. She’ll pet you when she’s ready to pet you.”

The gelding backed up a couple of steps, making noises that sounded like muttering.

Neall let out an exasperated sigh. “You realize if the bottom half of this door wasn’t latched, he’d be in the kitchen with you.”

Ari bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Besides our charming selves,” Neall said, narrowing his eyes at the gelding when it snorted, “I brought these.” He lifted a string and showed her two salmon she hadn’t noticed because she was too busy feeling embarrassed.

Ari’s heart pounded. Her palms were suddenly sweaty. “Neall . . .” she said weakly. “I know you’re Baron Felston’s relative, but poaching is a serious offense. And you’ve said yourself that the baron doesn’t permit anyone to fish in the streams of his land. If you’re brought before the magistrate . . .”

“Are you going to summon the magistrate?”

Ari frowned. He was her friend. How could he think she would betray him?

“I got these from a stream on your land,” Neall said. “Since I’m giving them to you, that doesn’t really count as poaching, does it?”

A heaviness that had been closing around her heart vanished. “Oh.” The word was breathed out in a sigh of relief. “Oh, in that case . . .” She paused. “But Neall, shouldn’t you be attending your work instead of spending so much time fishing in my stream? Won’t the baron be angry?”

“The work isn’t going anywhere. It can wait for a day. Besides, it didn’t take long to catch these fellows. But they won’t be worth much if we don’t get them into some water.”

“Of course.” Ari opened the lower half of the door. “Come in and be welcome.”

Neall slipped in, closing the door just quickly enough to prevent Darcy from joining them. “See what I mean?” he muttered. He pumped water into the large oval basin that served as the kitchen sink, then set the salmon in it. Revived by the water, they began to move in the basin.

Watching them, Ari’s mouth watered. “Neall, they’re wonderful. I haven’t eaten salmon since the last one Mother caught.”

“Why not?”

“In order to eat one, you have to catch it first. Water isn’t one of my branches of the Great Mother.”

A puzzled look came and went in his eyes. “Do you know what to do with it?” he asked.

It was foolish to let pride ruin a fine meal. “No. Mother always cooked the fish.”

“Then I’ll make you a bargain. If you’re willing to share the smaller one, I’ll clean it and cook it.”

She held out her hand so fast to seal the bargain he jumped. When he clasped her hand, he held it for several seconds. His hand felt warm and strong, more callused than a gentleman’s hands were supposed to be, but Neall had never shirked when work needed to be done.

Feeling confused and a bit too warm, she turned away. “I— We could have what’s left of the bread drizzled with honey or jam.”

“Sounds fine.”

“And there’s some early greens ready to be picked.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “But there’s nothing to dress them with. And there’s no butter to cook the fish.”

Neall said nothing.

Would he make some excuse and leave now? Ari wondered. Gathering her courage, she turned to face him. He was staring thoughtfully at the salmon.

“Fish doesn’t keep well. How’s the ice cellar?”

“There’s enough ice left to keep most things from spoiling, but I don’t think the fish would keep for more than a day.”

He nodded as if he expected that answer. “We’ll trade,” he said decisively. “Ahern is fond of salmon, and he grumbles often enough that the streams on his land don’t have fish worth the effort of catching them. If we wrap the big one in straw and cloth and wet it down well, I can ride over to his farm and see what he’ll trade for it.”

“All right.” Ari hesitated. How much would a fish be worth? “Perhaps some butter and a little salt?”

Neall hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Leave the bargaining to me.”

A few minutes later, he had the salmon wrapped.

Ari stared at the remaining salmon. Now that it had some room to swim in, it was acting more lively. A bit too lively.

Neall stepped outside and latched the bottom of the kitchen door. “Ari,” he called softly.

She didn’t like the way he was grinning at her.

“If it jumps out of the basin, don’t leave it flopping about on the floor. Catch it and toss it back in.”

“Jumps?” Ari said, snapping her head around to stare at the too-lively fish. She knew salmon jumped. Of course she knew that. She had seen them leap to get past small waterfalls in the stream, but . . . “It’s going to jump in my kitchen!”

Ari leaped for the kitchen door, reaching it just in time to see Neall, grinning gleefully, put his heels to Darcy’s sides and take off around the cottage.

“Neall!”

Racing through the cottage, she scrabbled to get the front door unlatched and flung it open. Neall was already cresting the low rise on the other side of the road.

“Neall!”

The gelding went down the other side of the rise, and Neall was gone.

Latching the door, Ari returned to the kitchen. Grabbing a small frying pan from its hook on the wall, she approached the sink warily. “If you jump, I’ll smack you.” She held up the frying pan to show the fish she meant it.

The salmon thrashed in the basin. The tail lifted, flinging water right in Ari’s face. .

Slowly, Ari set the frying pan down. Moving as far away from the sink as she could, she gathered the jars of honey and jam, then sliced the bread she had left.

“He knew this would happen. He knew it. He’s probably just sorry he wasn’t here to see it.” She glared at the salmon. “You know, if he takes his sweet time getting back from Ahern’s, you’re not the only one who’s going to feel a frying pan.”

Neall grinned as Darcy galloped toward Ahern’s farm.

Ari’s lover was a fool. A wonderful, wonderful fool. Imagine getting squeamish about something so natural. The man could have had the pleasure of spending time with her, could have enjoyed just being with her. But he’d walked away because he couldn’t have the bed. Tomorrow the dark of the moon began, and Ari would no longer be obliged to open her door or her arms to this stranger she’d met somewhere at the Summer Moon.

May the Great Mother bless the, man all the days of his life for being a wonderful, wonderful fool.

Neall’s grin widened.

And may She bless Ari as well. He knew she’d been struggling and didn’t have enough coins to buy meat very often. But he hadn’t realized that she hadn’t made use of what would have been freely given until she’d told him how long it had been since she’d had fresh fish to eat.

What he’d told her was true. He hadn’t spent much time catching the salmon. He’d simply gone to the stream and quietly stood on the bank. When a few of the water sprites who lived in and around the stream had asked why the young Lord of the Woods was just standing there, he had told them he wanted a salmon for Ari. They disappeared into the stream, and a few minutes later two salmon were being herded toward him. He had thanked the water sprites and taken the salmon. As simple as that.

He had stopped trying to explain to the Small Folk that he wasn’t a Lord of the Woods. True, his understanding of the woods and the creatures that lived there had always been keen—and might have come from the man who had sired his father. And there was no denying that there were times, when meat was truly needed, when a rabbit or a young buck seemed to offer itself to his bow. But having a Fae grandfather didn’t make him Fae. However, that didn’t stop him from accepting whatever fealty was offered when he needed it.

The gelding refused to check its speed when they reached Ahern’s yard, causing a couple of men who worked for Ahern to fling themselves out of the way to avoid being knocked over. A few yards away from the old man, the horse sat on its haunches, stopping so fast Neall almost went flying.

“We’re going to have to talk about this,” Neall muttered. Swinging one leg over Darcy’s neck, he jumped to the ground and held up the wet sack. “I’ve come to barter.”

The stern disapproval in Ahern’s eyes didn’t change. “You ride in here like a pack of shadow hounds are on your heels just to barter!” He shook his head. “I have nothing to offer the baron—” He looked over Neall’s shoulder.

Neall turned to see what had caught Ahern’s attention. The gelding was now facing the way they had come, its ears pricked. It took two steps forward.

“Wait for me,” Neall warned.

Darcy took one step back and snorted.

Ahern looked at the gelding, then at the land the animal was aiming for.

“You haven’t come to barter for the baron’s table,” Ahern said.

“No, sir.”

Nodding, Ahern pointed at the sack. “What have you to trade?”

Neall grinned. “A salmon. A big beauty that’s still so fresh it will slap you with its tail.”

“In that case, come inside and we’ll talk.”

“You robbed him,” Ari said, sounding too relaxed to be upset.

“I bargained well,” Neall corrected. They were sitting on the bench behind the cottage, enjoying a fine summer evening.

“You cleaned out Ahern’s larder.”

“Did not. I only took what my saddlebags could hold.” He didn’t want her chewing over that too much, so he said, “Did you have enough to eat?”

She let out a laughing groan in answer.

Smiling, Neall took her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he leaned back against the cottage and closed his eyes, content.

The bargaining had been fierce, and it had taken every ounce of persuasion he’d had to convince Ahern that he could only take so much for one fish without Ari starting to wonder if it was a fair barter or charity. Mentioning charity had made Ahern so angry Neall had thought the old man would strike him. But they both knew Ari, they both knew she could be stubborn to the point of being foolish, and they both knew her pride was the only thing that made it possible for her to face the people of Ridgeley. And bruising pride with too much kindness wasn’t kindness at all. So they haggled and argued until Neall had promised to bring another salmon or two in a few days and pick up the rest of the supplies Ahern insisted Ari should have.

“Will the baron be angry about your ignoring your work?” Ari asked. “Will he wonder where you are?”

“He doesn’t give a damn where I am. He never has unless he wants something. As for the work, let Royce take care of it. After all, the estate and all the tenant farms will be his one day.”

He felt her turn to face him. He kept his eyes closed.

“What will you do when that day comes, Neall?” Ari asked quietly. “Will you work for Royce and take what handouts he chooses to give?”

Neall hesitated, then thought, Plant the seed now. Give it time to take root “I have some land of my own. It’s in the west, about a day’s ride from the coast. It belonged to my mother. When my parents died, it came to me. Now that I’ve reached my majority, it’s time for me to go home.”

That shook her enough to make her hand tremble in his.

“Why—” Ari drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Why have you never said anything about this?”

“Because my gentry relatives are greedy. The baron would have made my life even more miserable if he’d known there was something that belonged to me that he couldn’t use while I was under his roof. Besides, I don’t own the land in that way.” He paused. “I did tell your grandmother about the land. She told me it would be a secret between us until I was ready to share it with someone else. That she thought I was wise not to tell anyone was the main reason I’ve been able to keep it a secret for so long.”

“And now you’ve told me,” Ari said softly. “Thank you.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She seemed to be working hard to remain calm, and that gave him hope. “I wanted you to know there was land waiting to be cherished again, that there was a place to go.”

“The anniversary of your birthing day was weeks ago. You should have left then so that you’d have time to put in your own crops.”

“I had reason to stay.”

She pressed her lips together. “When are you going?”

“That depends on you.” He watched her eyes widen with shock. He gently squeezed her hand. “If you know in your heart that you will never think of me as anything more than a friend, I hope you’ll be honest enough to tell me—and I’ll go alone. But if there’s a chance that you could care for me as a lover and a wife, I’ll wait for you, Ari.”

“Neall . . .”

He shook his head. “Don’t say anything now.”

Ari looked at the meadow and the forest beyond. “I care for you, Neall. I do. But my family has looked after Brightwood for generations. It’s my duty to stay here.”

“Perhaps it’s time for someone else to take care of Brightwood,” he said quietly. “Perhaps it’s time to make a new life somewhere else. Think about it, Ari. Please.”

Releasing her hand, he stood up. “I need to get back now. Can I help you with anything before I go?”

Ari shook her head.

“Then I’d better stir my four-legged friend and convince him it’s time to leave.” He took a few steps toward the part of the meadow where the gelding was grazing before Ari called him back.

She was wringing her hands and looked so distressed he regretted that he had spoiled her peace.

“Neall . . . Even if I could leave Brightwood, it’s not our way to marry.”

“Sometimes it is,” he said hurriedly. “My mother married my father, and they were happy.” When she looked puzzled, he thought, I hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t intended to tell her—at least, not yet—but now I have to tell her all of it. One way or the other, it might make the difference in the answer. “My mother’s branch was earth. There was nothing she touched that wouldn’t grow.”

Ari stared at him. “Your mother was a witch?”

“Yes. And my father was half Fae.” There was bitterness in his smile. “From things the baron has said, I gather the family had been embarrassed to have to acknowledge a child sired by one of the Fae. So they had been quite willing to forget about my father when he came of age and headed west to make his own fortune. The only thing they knew about my mother was that my father had married her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want any secrets between us. Because I want you to know who I came from.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And now I’ll go. Blessings of the day to you, Ari.”

“Blessings of the day to you, Neall,” she whispered.

All the way back to the baron’s estate, he wondered if he’d done the right thing, if he should have waited to tell her about his parents and the land. Since he couldn’t take back the words, he hoped he’d made the right choice.