The Pillars of the World

Chapter Nineteen

“Something has to be done,” Dianna said, pacing the length of the terrace that overlooked her favorite garden.

“What can be done?” Lyrra asked. “The new moon has begun its journey—and Lucian hasn’t gone down the road through the Veil since the day he returned early.”

“Has he said anything to Aiden about why he returned early that night?”

Lyrra shook her head. “He’s still brooding, and there’s a look in his eyes that helps one remember that he’s the Lord of Fire.”

“We can’t just sit here.” Dianna stopped pacing and squared her shoulders. “There’s one way to find out if Ari has become an enemy.”

Lyrra paled a little. “You’re going down to the cottage?”

“She doesn’t know I’m Fae. I can pay a visit without arousing suspicion.”

“Be careful, Dianna.”

“With Tir Alainn at stake, you can rest assured that I’ll be careful.”

Returning to her suite, Dianna pulled the riding habit from the wardrobe. She paused, considered. If that male who had shown up at Ari’s the last time she had visited had been speaking the truth, she could save herself the trouble of riding sidesaddle. And it wasn’t as if she was intending to go riding where the human gentry would see her.

She dropped the riding habit on her bed and chose one of her usual riding outfits—a skirt as light as cobwebs that buttoned over slim trousers and a simple blouse made of fine linen. That would do quite well.

A few minutes later, as she was heading for the stables, she heard a quiet whine.

The bitch that used to be her favorite approached hesitantly, the dark eyes pleading to be forgiven for whatever it had done that had made its mistress turn away from it. Beside the bitch were the three pups, the two that showed no outward trace of the undesirable sire and the third, which she couldn’t bear to look at.

She turned away, then turned back and snatched the third puppy. It cried as if it knew the person holding it despised its existence.

The bitch whined.

“It will be well taken care of,” Dianna said. She hurried to the stables before she had too much time to think . . . and change her mind.

Wanting to avoid Ahern’s farm for this visit, and gambling that Ari didn’t know horses well enough to be alarmed at seeing a “gentry” lady riding a Fae horse, she had the grooms saddle her pale mare. The pup was wrapped in a piece of blanket so that it couldn’t squirm around. With one arm holding the pup, Dianna cantered down the road that led through the Veil.

Reaching Brightwood, she followed the forest trails until she came to the road and was riding toward Ari’s cottage from the same direction she’d come before.

Ari, naturally, was working in the garden.

“Dianna,” Ari said, surprise and pleasure in her voice.

She didn’t expect me to return after I learned she was a witch.

“Blessings of the day to you,” Ari said.

“Blessings of the day to you,” Dianna replied, choking a little on speaking a witch’s greeting. They think you’re the Queen of the Witches. Speaking their words won’t set your tongue on fire.

“I see you’ve forsaken gentry fashion for practicality,” Ari teased.

Dismounting easily, Dianna gave Ari a cool stare. “I would prefer to be thought a peasant than deal with an insolent man.”

“Oh.” Ari seemed to be working through several replies, but ended up shrugging. “Neall can be opinionated at times.”

Neall. A name spoken with easy familiarity. “Do you know him well?”

“We’re friends.”

You say that as if you’re not quite sure. I wonder if Lucian was aware he had a rival.

The puppy squirmed.

“What’s that?” Ari asked.

“Something I brought for you.” Dianna unwrapped the puppy and held it out.

Her eyes lighting, Ari reached for the puppy and held him up so that they were nose to nose. “You’re adorable.”

The puppy licked her nose, making her laugh.

Ari’s delight made Dianna smile. “He seems to think the same about you.”

Cradling the puppy, Ari said, “He’s wonderful, Dianna, but I can’t accept him. He’s obviously a valuable animal, and—”

Dianna waved her hand dismissively. “He has no value. He’s deformed.” Seeing Ari’s stricken look and the way her arms tightened protectively around the puppy, Dianna bit her tongue. What use was it to give something and then say it had no value? “You’re correct that the bitch is a valuable animal, but the quality of the sire is . . . suspect. The coloring is wrong.”

Ari looked down at the puppy. “Wrong? But he has a beautiful merle coat.”

Dianna bit her tongue again to keep from saying something else that would make the pup completely worthless—or saying something that would clearly tell Ari that the pup had come from a shadow hound.

“Yes, it is, but the breeder is very particular about coloring. So the pup has no worth for the breeder. But there’s nothing wrong with him, and I thought he would have a good home with you.”

There was still hesitation there. Dianna choked back frustration. The girl obviously liked the puppy. Why couldn’t she just accept it?

“I—I suppose he eats meat.”

“He’s a dog. Of course he eats—” Dianna stopped, suddenly remembering that Ari hadn’t offered any meat with the meal she’d prepared the last time Dianna visited. “Don’t you eat meat?”

“Yes, I do—when I can afford it.”

Dianna looked away. With every turn, there was another obstacle.

Ari caressed the puppy. “We’ll find a way.”

Dianna narrowed her eyes as she looked at the forest. “Don’t you hunt?”

Ari smiled ruefully. “Neall taught me how to shoot a bow, and I can hit the bulls-eye in a target, but I can’t hit anything when it stands there and looks at me.”

Neall again. Maybe this Neall could make himself useful and provide some meat.

“Thank you, Dianna. The puppy will be a good friend.”

Uncomfortable, despite the fact that Ari’s gratitude was exactly what she’d hoped to achieve when she’d brought the pup, Dianna turned away, then stopped when she noticed the bare cottage wall. “The flowers didn’t bloom?”

“Bloom?” Ari laughed. “The seeds have all sprouted and the plants are growing well, but they don’t grow that quickly. They’ll have flowers by the Solstice.”

Solstice? That long? In Tir Alainn, the plants would already be in full bloom. Diana studied the vegetable garden. Small green things covered the ground between the paths of flat stones, but there was nothing ready for the table. “How long do you have to wait?”

“Harvest will begin in a couple of months.”

Dianna didn’t know what to say. “Are you still planting?”

“No, the planting is done. I was doing a bit of weeding and watering before the day got too warm.”

“I’ll help you.” Catching Ari’s apprehensive look, she added with prickly arrogance, “I may not be able to plant, but surely I’m capable enough to pour water.”

Ari tipped her head, her expression thoughtful. “Why do you want to help?”

“Because I can’t work in a garden at home,” she replied without thinking.

“You’re troubled, aren’t you?”

About many things I cannot speak of. Not to you. “I have some concerns.”

Ari nodded. “Working in the earth doesn’t provide solutions to problems, but it can ease the heart. The clothes you wore the last time are in the trunk in the dressing room.”

Dianna smiled. “I’ll find them.”

“I’ll look after the mare . . .” Ari’s eyes widened when she finally took a good look at the pale mare.

Dianna tensed. Could Fae magic cloud a witch’s mind?

“You should meet old Ahern someday,” Ari said. “He has beautiful horses, too.”

“We’re acquainted,” Dianna said tersely.

“Oh dear. Did he admire the mare too much or too little?” When Dianna didn’t answer, Ari added, “I just wondered because he has a gray stallion that he might have wanted to mate with your mare.”

Dianna choked. No. The girl couldn’t know the gray stallion was the Lord of the Horse in his other form. Although . . . There were some unsavory legends that said such matings were how the Fae horses had been created in the first place.

“I’ll change my clothes,” Dianna said. Leaving Ari to deal with puppy and mare, she hurried to the kitchen door.

“Go in and be welcome,” Ari called.

That constant welcoming must be a witch custom, Dianna decided. Did it have to be said every time a person visiting walked out of the cottage and wanted to go back in? It must be a tedious custom if that were true. She’d have to ask. It wouldn’t seem strange to ask since she knew Ari was a witch. And the Fae needed to know as much as they could.

There was only one trunk in the dressing room, and the tunic and trousers, washed and neatly folded, were lying on top of the other garments. Taking the clothes, Dianna closed the trunk and looked around. One side of the room contained a wooden chest with drawers as well as two staggered rows of pegs that she suspected held all the clothes Ari owned. The other side of the room contained a small desk, a threadbare chair that, nonetheless, looked comfortable, and a table with an oil lamp. It also contained a bookcase with leaded glass doors.

The bookcase was the finest piece of furniture in the cottage, speaking of a time when Ari’s family must have had more wealth than was apparent now. Peering through the glass, Dianna frowned. The books inside didn’t look impressive. All about the same size and thickness, they were bound in leather and reminded her more of the journals she’d heard gentry women were fond of keeping than tomes that had any value. Opening the bookcase, she took out the last book and opened it to the first page.

I am Astra, now the Crone of the family. It is with sorrow that I have read the journals of the ones who came before me. We shouldered the burden and then were dismissed from thought—or were treated as paupers who should beg for scraps of affection. We have stayed because we loved the land, and we have stayed out of duty. But duty is a cold bedfellow, and it should no longer be enough to hold us to the land. I don’t think my daughter will listen, but I hope I can find the words to tell Ari—

“What are you doing?”

Dianna jumped, surprised by Ari’s sudden appearance as well as the anger in the girl’s voice. “I saw the books and wanted to look—”

“Those are my family’s private journals. They weren’t written as entertainment for the gentry.”

“I—”

Words of apology and explanation died when Ari snatched the journal from Dianna’s hands, carefully replaced it in the bookcase, and closed the leaded glass door. Keeping her back to Dianna, she said, “Even a friend should respect privacy.”

“I meant no harm, Ari. Truly. I thought they were just books, and I was curious.” Dianna paused, wondering how badly her next question would offend. “Have you read them?”

Ari shook her head. “Only the crone has the age and the experience to read them, and she is the one who records the next chapter in our history.” She turned to face Dianna. “I am in no hurry to read them. I think they have some awful tales to tell.”

“What could be so awful?”

“I don’t know. But the year my grandmother’s body declared her fully a crone, she read the journals over the winter. My mother and I watched her grow old during that time, as if a heavy burden weighed on her heart. She didn’t live to see another winter. So I’m in no hurry to find out what bent a strong woman until she broke.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked at the tunic and trousers, and felt a pang of regret that she wouldn’t feel the earth beneath her hands. “Perhaps it would be better if I didn’t stay today,” she said, hoping Ari would politely disagree.

“I think that would be for the best.”

Dianna walked to the doorway, then looked over her shoulder. “I meant no harm. I hope we can be friends again on another day.” When your anger has faded—or you become lonely enough to overlook what was, after all, a mistake.

“On another day,” Ari agreed.

The mare was still saddled. A bucket of water stood nearby, still cool to the touch. Ari must have drawn the water from the well and then realized she had sent a stranger into the room that held what her family prized the most.

When Dianna mounted, the puppy yapped at her as if he knew he no longer needed to fear what she thought of him.

I hope I did at least that much right, Dianna thought as she took the long way around to reach the shining road through the Veil. And I hope she will greet me as a friend on another day—not just because we need to understand her kind, but also because I like her.

“Falco!” Hurrying toward her quarry, Dianna ignored the startled looks of the other men standing with the Lord of the Hawks. She also ignored Falco’s protest when she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room.

“Dianna! Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No. Not exactly.” She’d thought this over on the ride home. Her gift would be enjoyed more if there was a way to feed it, and there was something she could do about that. “I want you to catch a rabbit.”

Falco started to reply, then changed his mind— twice. “You want me to catch a rabbit,” he finally repeated.

He was acting like it was an odd request—which it was, but that was beside the point. “Yes.”

Falco smiled hesitantly, as if he would be willing to share the joke, even one at his expense, if she would just explain it to him.

“I want you to go down to the human world, shift to your other form, catch a rabbit, and take it to the cottage near the sea.” When he still hesitated, she snapped, “Why is this so difficult? You like catching rabbits. You’ve said so.”

“That’s the witch’s cottage,” Falco said carefully. “The one the Lightbringer warned me to stay away from.”

“And now, I, the Huntress, am giving you a new command.”

“Why?” Falco asked, sounding a little frightened. “If I’m going to have his wrath come down on me, at least tell me why.”

Dianna winced. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to reveal that much. “I gave her a puppy.”

“You—” Falco’s mouth fell open. “You gave the witch a shadow hound?”

“It was one of the mongrels, of no value to us,” Dianna said testily. “Not really a shadow hound at all.”

“But—”

Chaining her own agitated feelings, Dianna rested her hands on Falco’s shoulders, as much to give comfort as to keep him from bolting—possibly straight to Lucian.

“Falco, Aiden feels certain that the witches are involved in some way with what’s happening to Tir Alainn. This one is young, and not against us.” At least, she hoped not. “If we are her friends, she won’t want to do us harm. She might even be able to help us understand what is happening, might even be able to help us stop it. The puppy needs to be fed, so she needs the extra meat.” She studied his eyes and realized Lucian’s temper wasn’t the only reason he was wary of approaching the cottage. “You don’t have to stay. Just leave the rabbit where it can be found easily.”

“All right.” He stepped back, bowed to indicate this was a formal discussion, then quickly walked away.

“Falco!” Dianna called before he turned a corner. “It might be best not to mention this to anyone for the time being.”

He gave her a measuring look, the same look she imagined was in a man’s eyes when he was ordered into a battle he knew he couldn’t win.

“Huntress, there is no one I want to mention this to.”

Yap. Yap yap yap.

Ari looked at the cow shed guiltily. She’d never had a puppy before, but it had only taken a few minutes to convince her that puppies and young gardens weren’t a good match. Since she didn’t want to let him out on his own until he got used to his new home, she’d spent a few minutes running around the meadow with him to tire him out, then put him in the cow shed with a pan of fresh water. She’d have to ask Neall if he had any ideas about how to teach a puppy not to squat in the house.

Yap. Yap yap yap.

A couple more chores, then she’d let him out and find something for both of them to eat for the midday—

“AAIIIEEEEE!”

Ari raced to the cow shed, pulled open the door, and just stood there, not certain if the puppy or the small man clinging to the top rail of the stall would be more offended if she laughed.

“Don’t just stand there!” the small man shouted. “Get an ax and defend yourself!”

Oh dear.

Ari grabbed the puppy and held the indignant bundle of fur close. For something so small and young, he was certainly a fierce little creature.

“It’s all right,” Ari said.

Yap yap. Grrr.

“All right?” the small man shrieked. “I come in here to get a bit of rest and find this hulking great beast ready to tear off my limbs, and you think it’s all right?”

“Hush!” Ari said to the puppy.

After one more yap, the puppy hushed. The small man glared.

“He’s just a puppy,” Ari said soothingly. “You probably startled him as much as he startled you.”

“Not likely since he’s got a meaner set of teeth.”

“He’s a puppy.”

The small man made himself more comfortable on the top rail. “Puppy,” he said ominously. “You mean to say that hulking beast is going to get bigger? How much bigger?”

“I don’t know. But he’s bound to get a little bigger than he is now.”

The small man looked at the puppy. His eyes narrowed. “A stray you found in the woods, was he?”

“No, a . . . friend . . . gave him to me.”

“Friend.”

“Yes, she—” Startled by a hawk’s cry, Ari turned toward the door. She heard the small man scramble down the stall rails, felt him brush against her legs as he cautiously peered out of the door.

“You’ve got company,” he said in an odd voice.

A hawk stood on the chopping block, a rabbit held securely in one taloned foot. He watched them in a way that made Ari uneasy.

“Do you suppose some of the gentry are out hunting, and one of their hawks strayed too far into Brightwood?”

“No jesses,” the small man said. “That one belongs to no one but himself.”

“Why would a wild hawk bring his kill so close to a cottage?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him.” The small man paused. “Best to leave the hulking wee beast here. No use having him killed before you have a chance to be annoyed with him.”

“But. . .” Ari looked at the hawk. “Surely it would just fly away if the puppy ran after it.”

“If it was only a hawk, it might do just that.”

A chill ran through her. It deepened when she saw the small man pull a sling and a couple of stones from his pockets. The Small Folk were as skilled at hunting with slings as they were with bows.

“You’d best go out and see what the Fae Lord wants. The sooner his business here is finished, the sooner he’ll be gone.”

“Fae? If he’s . . . If he knows . . . Surely he can’t mean me harm. I mean, the Fae Lord I’ve met was friendly.” More than friendly. Just remembering Lucian’s kisses made her knees weak. Or, perhaps, it was remembering his anger the last time she saw him that was producing that effect.

“Oh, they’re always friendly when they get want they want. It’s when they don’t that you have to take care. The Fair Folk have a streak of meanness in them. They have that in common with humans.” His smile was grim and malicious. “Go on out now. I’ll see you come to no harm.”

Setting the puppy down and hoping he would understand somehow what stay meant, she wiped her suddenly sweaty hands on her tunic and walked slowly toward the chopping block.

“Blessings of the day to you, brother hawk.”

The hawk stared at her, looked down at the rabbit, then back at her.

“That’s a fine rabbit you have.”

The hawk ruffled its feathers. Waited.

What was it waiting for? Ari wondered. If this was a Fae Lord, what did he expect of her? He couldn’t. .. Oh, Mother’s mercy, he couldn’t think she would open her arms to any of them simply because Lucian had been her lover. Could he?

After a long pause, when neither of them moved, the hawk released the rabbit. Waited.

“You brought the rabbit for me?” Ari asked. Why would he do that? Not that the meat wouldn’t be welcome, especially with the pup.

Moving slowly, stretching her arm as far as she could to keep her face away from the beak and talons, Ari’s hand gripped the rabbit. She stepped back, still holding the rabbit out, ready to drop it if the hawk seemed angry.

It just watched her.

Finally, when it lifted its wings, Ari said, “You did the work, so you should have part of the bounty. Wait a moment, if you please.”

Hurrying into the kitchen, she pulled the largest knife she owned from the wood block, put the rabbit in the kitchen basin, and cut off a hind leg. Grabbing a towel to hold under the leg and catch the blood, she went back out and set the leg on the chopping block.

She almost thought she saw surprise in the hawk’s eyes.

“Thank you for the rabbit.”

Another pause. Then the hawk sank its talons into the rabbit leg and flew off.

Ari sank to the ground, her legs suddenly feeling too watery to hold her up.

The puppy barreled out of the cow shed, yapping frantically.

She looked at the small man walking toward her and wondered what magic he had used to keep the pup quiet and contained.

“You did well, Mistress Ari,” the small man said.

“It could have been just a hawk.”

“And I could be a giant.” His expression was grim. “This friend who gave you the pup. What’s she look like?”

“She’s fair-haired, has light brown eyes, and,” Ari added, attempting to smile, “she’s fairly useless in the garden. I thought even gentry ladies knew plants wouldn’t bloom in a handful of days. She does have some fine horses, though. Especially the gray mare she was riding this morning.”

“She rides a pale mare.”

Puzzled at the odd phrasing, Ari said, “Yes. At least she did today. Do you know her?”

“I’ve seen her.” He didn’t seem pleased about that.

As if it knew who they were talking about, the puppy whined and climbed into Ari’s lap.

“I’d best be about my business,” the small man said. “Take care, Mistress Ari.”

Ari watched him walk across the meadow. Despite watching, she lost sight of him long before he reached the woods. But that was the way with the Small Folk. They were never seen unless they chose to be seen.

Had he been right about the hawk? Had it been a Fae Lord? Why would any Fae be showing themselves now? They’d never done so before. At least not that she could recall. Was it just curiosity because Lucian had been with her, and his presence here had been taken by some of the others as tacit permission to make her aware of them? Or was it something more? And if it was more, what did they suddenly want from her?

And what hadn’t the small man said about the pup and Dianna?

Sighing, Ari rubbed her nose against the puppy’s head. “Come on. There’s a rabbit waiting for us. A stew for me and meat for you. And while the stew is cooking, we have an important task— finding the right name for you.”

Neall leaned over, cupped his hands under the spill of water, and drank. The last handful he splashed over his face.

They could use a soft, soaking rain. The streams and creeks were already running a bit low, and crops weren’t growing as well as they should. To make things worse, the tenant farmers had chosen yesterday, when he’d been with Ari, to bring their complaints and concerns to Baron Felston’s bailiff. The bailiff, in turn, had brought them to the baron’s attention. And Felston had blamed Neall’s “sloth” for fewer acres being planted and the lack of rain to help what was planted grow.

How many times had he told Baron Felston that people would not starve through the winter in order to plant full acres in the spring when the reward for the hunger and hard work was to have more of it taken in tithes. Being blamed, again, for the problems caused by Felston’s greed was the last wound in a lifetime of such wounds. Today, while riding to all the tenant farms to verify the complaints—as if he needed to do again what he’d been doing since the spring— he was trying to decide if he was going to head west to his mother’s land and come back later for Ari, or if he was going to try to find a place nearby where he could stay and work while she considered whether she was going with him or staying at Brightwood.

He filled his canteen and stepped away from the creek. “Come on,” he told Darcy. “Let’s get this finished.”

A round stone hit his boot hard enough to sting.

He scanned the strip of woods that separated a couple of fields. Saw nothing.

“You would be wise to look to Brightwood, young Lord,” said a gruff voice.

Nothing more. There was no use searching. There would be nothing to see, no one to find.

Neall threw himself into the saddle. The Small Folk didn’t give idle warnings, which meant something had happened that they wanted him to know about.

“Brightwood,” he said, letting the gelding choose its own speed. If Felston punished him for shirking his duties, so be it. What the baron wanted wasn’t worth a pebble compared to Ari.

When he and Darcy reached the cottage, they were both sweating heavily from the hard, fast run.

“Ari!” Neall kicked out of the stirrups and leaped out of the saddle in a way that would probably get him killed with any other horse.

What could be wrong here? Had something happened to her? The only weapon he had was his work knife, and that wasn’t going to help much. He drew it out of the sheath in his boot and promised himself that he wouldn’t go out again without at least a bow and quiver.

“Neall?”

Her voice was faint. He turned, trying to catch the direction. The gelding figured it out faster and ambled toward the privy that stood a few feet from the cow shed.

Neall ran to the privy, reached for the door—and had enough sense left to hesitate. “Ari?”

“Neall?” she squeaked.

“Yes, it’s Neall.”

“Go away.”

“Damn it, I will not go away!” He reached for the door again.

“Neall . . . go stand by the well for a minute or two. Please.”

Starting to feel foolish, and angry because he did, he turned and strode to the well. “Walk,” he told Darcy. “Go on, take a bit of a walk around the meadow to cool down. Then you can have some water.”

Darcy snorted, looked at the privy, then began an easy walk around the meadow.

Neall watched for a few seconds to make sure the gelding would walk and not start to graze. May the Mother bless Ahern. He didn’t know how the man managed to raise horses that had more brains than any others, but he was grateful the old man had been willing to sell the gelding to him.

Filling a bucket from the well, he stripped off his sweaty shirt, then used the dipper Ari kept on a hook to pour water over himself.

A bit of maliciousness? Was that all the warning had been?

Darcy paused, snuffled something in the grass, then shied and trotted back toward him.

Neall saw a gray body with black streaks rise out of the grass and felt his heart trip.

Yap. Yap yap yap.

The puppy raced toward him. The breath he’d been holding came out in a rush of relief when he saw the tan front legs.

A few feet away from him, the puppy tripped over its feet and somersaulted until it ended up nose to toes with his boot. It yapped fiercely at his boot until Darcy, curious now, came up behind it and snorted on its tail.

Yipping, the puppy tucked its tail between its legs and ran for the privy. Ari came out, picked up the puppy, and headed toward the well. She looked frustrated and annoyed—until she noticed that the gelding was lathered. Then worry filled her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Feeling too many things that weren’t comfortable, Neall splashed his face with water before replying. “You tell me.”

“So,” Ari said quietly after a long pause. “It bothered him that much.”

Neall straightened slowly, wiping the water off his face. “Who?”

Ari hesitated. “One of the Small Folk was here when the hawk came. It brought a rabbit, and he”— she put a slight emphasis on the word to indicate the small man —“said the hawk was a Fae Lord.”

Neall’s chest tightened. “A Fae Lord brought you a rabbit. Did he say why?”

“He was in the form of a hawk, Neall. There wasn’t any conversation.”

“That doesn’t explain—” Something shivered through him, making him hope he was wrong. He’d known the man who had claimed Ari at the Summer Moon wasn’t local gentry, but he’d wondered if the lover might have been a well-to-do merchant who was staying in the area for a while. Now he had to consider that the man might have been one of the Fae. He, better than anyone, knew such meetings and matings were possible. “The . . . gentleman . . . you gave the fancy to. Could that have been him?”

“No.”

“Ari, if he didn’t tell you he was Fae—”

“It wasn’t him. That’s not his other form.”

Neall leaned against the well, staggered. So she had known her lover was a Fae Lord. Not a man who had stayed in the area awhile and gone away, but someone who might still be around—and still be interested in Ari.

“There must be a Clan nearby,” he said quietly. “The roads through the Veil are always connected to the Old Places. So there must be a road that leads to Brightwood.”

“How do you know those roads connect to the Old Places? None of the stories are that specific about where the shining roads are. And if that’s true, why hasn’t anyone around here seen them until now?”

Because they hadn’t wanted to be seen. Neall shook his head. This wasn’t the time to tell her he’d seen the Wild Hunt come out of the woods beyond the meadow. But he could tell her the other reason why he knew. “A friend of my mother’s told me that when I was a small boy.” He hesitated, gathered his courage, and wondered if he’d lost her before he’d tried to win her. “Do you know who he was? The one who . . .” He couldn’t say it.

She didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, “The Lightbringer.”

“Mother’s mercy.”

“He was kind, Neall . . . and now it’s done.”

“Are you sure?” Was a rabbit any different from a salmon as a wooing gift?

There was enough of a hesitation before she nodded to make his heart sink. So. She was still drawn to the Lord of Fire. Enough to welcome him to her bed again?

Neall straightened, pulled on his shirt, and shook off feelings that could cripple him. I haven’t lost until she tells me to go without her. But there was no question of him heading west and coming back for her. Not with a Fae Lord for a rival—especially that one.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand for the puppy to sniff. “You’re not going to give him an embarrassing name, are you? Women always give dogs names that make men cringe.”

Ari narrowed her eyes. “Women aren’t the only ones who sometimes choose odd names for animals. You named the gelding Dark Sea and ended up calling him Darcy.”

“That’s how it sounds when you say it fast,” Neall muttered. Deciding not to continue a discussion he couldn’t win, he studied the puppy. “Where did you get him?”

Ari’s huff at the blatant change of subject turned into a smile. She set the puppy down. “Dianna gave him to me. I was going to name him Fleetfoot.”

The puppy spotted a butterfly and gave chase until he tripped over his feet and went rolling.

“Then I thought of calling him Hunter.”

The puppy found his tail and chased that, too.

“So what did you decide to name him?” Neall asked solemnly.

“Merle.”

Neall nodded. “A good choice. At least it’s a name he can live up to.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

Dianna cursed silently as she watched Lyrra and Aiden stride toward her, probably coming to find out what had happened at the cottage today—which was something she didn’t want to discuss with them yet. Falco would reach her first, but there wouldn’t be enough time to talk before they had unwelcome company.

She gave Aiden a cool stare, knowing it was pointless to give a subtle command to Lyrra. She was, after all, another woman—and the Muse thrown into the bargain. She would see it, understand it, and ignore it if she chose.

Aiden, however, slowed his steps and caught Lyrra’s arm, forcing her to match his pace.

“Well?” Dianna asked Falco. She’d been worried about him, although she’d never admit it, and it made her sharply impatient.

Falco shifted restlessly. “She gave me a hind leg.”

Dianna wanted to shake her head vigorously to clear up whatever was wrong with her hearing. “She what?”

“From the rabbit. When she took the rabbit into the cottage, she cut off a hind leg and brought it back out to me since I had done the work of catching it.”

Dianna’s narrowed eyes snapped with temper.

“Why were you still there? I told you to leave the rabbit and go.”

He blushed. “I wanted to see a witch. I’d seen her before, of course, but I hadn’t known at the time she was one of them. So . . .” He hunched his shoulders. “She knew I was Fae.”

Dianna sucked in a breath. “How could she know? You didn’t reveal yourself, did you?”

“No!” he said quickly—and too loudly. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed, then lowered his voice. “One of the Small Folk was with her, and they always recognize us, no matter what form we wear.”

What she muttered under her breath made Falco flinch. “What was one of those mischief-makers doing there?” If the Small Folk started causing trouble, would Ari feel any warmth for any other folk who were magic?

“She wasn’t troubled by his being there. And—” He looked puzzled. “She seemed afraid of me. If these wiccanfae are so powerful, why was she afraid of me! What could the Lord of the Hawks do to her?”

“Maybe not all of them are powerful,” Dianna said thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re like us in that way, and there are stronger and weaker among them.” If that were true, Ari might not have enough power to harm them, but she still might be able to help them understand what was happening to Tir Alainn. Noticing that Aiden and Lyrra were now only a few steps away, she smiled at Falco. “Thank you. You did well.”

He studied her carefully. “One rabbit won’t last very long, especially with a growing pup to feed. I could bring another in a day or two.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Falco greeted Aiden and Lyrra, bid Dianna farewell, and left them.

“What was Falco up to today?” Lyrra demanded as soon as Falco was out of earshot.

“Nothing foolish, I hope,” Aiden said.

“He was performing a small service for me,” Dianna replied. “Aiden, you will play your harp for us tonight, won’t you?”

Lyrra looked mutinous at the change of subject, but when Aiden unexpectedly yielded, the Muse considered him for a moment and didn’t argue.

Dianna knew she shouldn’t push them aside. They were both too aware of the dangers to Tir Alainn, and since she couldn’t talk to Lucian right now without admitting that she’d been visiting Ari, these two were her best allies.

But she couldn’t talk to them tonight. Not just yet. In a couple of days, she would go back to Brightwood and find out if the puppy was pleasing enough that she would be forgiven for not respecting privacy.

Then hopefully, she would have something to tell them.

Lucian stood at the edge of the terrace and watched the windows of the Clan house fill with lamplight, one by one, as the daylight gave way to dusk. Inside there was food and company. He wanted both and could stomach neither.

He missed her. He tried to believe that it was her body and her bed that he wanted, but the truth was, he missed her. Missed the sound of her voice, even though the things she spoke of usually bored him. Missed looking at her as she moved about the kitchen to feed the belly’s hunger after the loins had been sated. He missed the quiet strength in her, and wondered what she would be like when she truly bloomed. And he missed touching her . . . and being touched.

He shouldn’t have missed any of those things. Didn’t want to miss them. He should have been able to walk away and not look back. Except it didn’t feel finished. That’s why he still thought of her, hungered for her. He hadn’t given her the parting gift, so he didn’t feel as if they’d parted. If he’d had those last two days to enjoy her, it would have been done, and he would have been the lover who had taught her what pleasure could be found in bed and she would have become a warm memory for him—and nothing more.

Instead, he thought about her and wondered if she was well, and if her garden was blooming, since it seemed so important to her. And he wondered, if he went back to visit, if she would open her arms and take him to her bed again.

Lucian’s heart beat a little faster.

There was no reason why Ari wouldn’t welcome him. He’d been a generous lover, in bed and out. There was no reason why she should turn away from a man who excited her. And he did excite her. He knew it. He could go to her cottage tomorrow evening and—

No. Not the evening. That would look too much as if he assumed his expectations would be met. Tomorrow morning, then. Just to spend time with her, be with her. Maybe it would help him understand her a little. And when he left, he would take nothing more than a kiss so that she would know it was more than her body that he wanted, if only for a little while longer.

He drew in air and was certain it was the first deep breath he’d taken in days.

Smiling as he heard the opening notes of a tune, Lucian went inside to join his kin.

There was still enough light to stop at one more tenant farm before returning to Felston’s house.

It’s not home anymore, Neall thought, letting Darcy do the work of keeping them safe on the road while his mind wandered through all the pieces of the day. Never really was home.

Each day he spent there chafed him more than the last. He wasn’t a child anymore who was forced to feel grateful that someone in his father’s family had taken him in. He was a man who had a future waiting for him, and it was time he reached for that future.

Would Ari choose to go with him? Or would the Lightbringer’s presence be enticement enough for her to stay at Brightwood? But how long would he stay? And what would happen to Ari when the Fae Lord tired of the affair and disappeared?

“Dianna gave him to me.”

The pup had given him a scare until he saw the tan legs. He’d thought it was a shadow hound.

Who was Dianna? She had enough arrogance to be gentry, but she wasn’t. He’d bet the meager wages Felston grudgingly paid him on that. So who—

“You can see through the clamor?”

Suddenly dizzy, Neall dropped the reins and swayed in the saddle. The gelding did its best to help him stay in the saddle, so, rather than taking a hard spill, he slid out of the saddle and onto the ground.

Ashk.

He went into the woods to find the fox den his father had shown him a couple of days before. He wanted to see if the vixen had had her kits yet. His father was busy, so he went into the woods alone, even though he wasn’t supposed to.

As he quietly approached the den, he saw Ashk sitting on a log nearby. She didn’t realize he was there until he was almost beside her, and then . . .

Her face was the one he could glimpse through the blurriness, the face beneath the one the eye usually saw. It didn’t occur to him that there was anything strange about her ears being pointed or that the feral quality in her face was something to fear. She was Ashk, his mother’s closest friend, the friend who sometimes looked after him when his parents both had work that couldn’t be interrupted by a young child.

She stared at him for so long, he wondered if she was going to scold him for coming into the woods alone. Then she invited him to sit with her since it was almost time for the birthing.

He heard nothing, but she did. He knew by the way she smiled and squeezed his hand that the vixen had birthed her kits and all of them were well.

Then she walked him back to his home. And the only time her face had blurred again when he looked at her was the day she had taken him to the village to meet the stranger named Felston, the man who had agreed to burden himself with a family obligation.

Neall lowered his head until it rested on his raised knees. Darcy snuffled him worriedly, no doubt confused about why he was just sitting in the road.

Ashk, his mother’s friend, was Fae.

“You can see through the clamor?”

He’d asked his father what “clamor” meant but had never explained why he’d wanted to know. So the answer had made no sense to him. But that wasn’t what Ashk had said. She’d said glamour—the magic the Fae used to confuse the eye and make themselves appear to be human.

And he could see through it. That’s why his vision blurred at times. He was seeing through the mask for a moment before his eyes yielded to the magic.

“Dianna gave him to me.”

He had seen her before . . . on the night of the Summer Moon, riding a pale mare with her shadow hounds running ahead of her.

Mother’s mercy, why was the Huntress spending time at Brightwood pretending to be human?

Darcy shoved him. He raised a hand and rested it on the gelding’s muzzle—and felt another wave of dizziness sweep over him.

Ahern, who raised the finest horses in this part of Sylvalan—perhaps in all of Sylvalan. Ahern, whose face sometimes blurred for the first few seconds when Neall saw him. Ahern, the gruff old man who seemed to have a proprietary interest in the women who had lived at Brightwood—and the girl who still lived there.

Ahern, too, was Fae.

Slowly climbing to his feet, Neall leaned against Darcy for a few moments to get his balance before mounting.

It was tempting to turn around and ride to Ahern’s farm, but he needed time to think and steady himself before he confronted the old man.

The Fae had been present all along. But why were so many of them showing up now? And why had the Lightbringer and the Huntress, the two who could command all the others, suddenly becoming interested in Ari?