The Pillars of the World

Chapter Twenty-four

“Today is the Summer Solstice,” Ari told Merle as she brushed him. “The longest day of the year. A celebration day. And the only day in the summer when work gets set aside to simply enjoy the feel of the season. Well, there’ll be a little work or else we won’t have our feast this evening.” She put the brush beside her on the bench and leaned back against the cottage wall. She grinned at the puppy, who seemed to be grinning back. “May the Mother bless Ahern. Beef. A lovely piece of beef that will make a wonderful roast. Not that the rabbits the hawk has brought haven’t been welcome, but they aren’t the same thing, are they?”

She stood up, stretched. “Come on. This morning we’ll walk the land. Not all of it, of course, Brightwood is much too big for that. But I’ll show you some of my favorite places. The hill my grandmother always favored because she said it was the best place for her to sit and listen to the messages the wind brought her. And the pond my mother favored.”

She sobered. Merle, sensing the change, whined quietly.

“It’s also the day to visit the dead,” Ari said softly. “Because it may be the last time I’ll take this walk on the Solstice. My grandmother died on that hill. She went to sleep in the autumn sunshine . . . and she never woke up. And my mother . . . Her body rests with the Great Mother near the pond. I wasn’t sure she would want to be there after . . . There wasn’t another place I thought she would prefer to be, except, perhaps, near that spot on the beach that she often went to. But it wouldn’t have been a good resting place.”

She shook off the mood before it had a chance to take root. “A long ramble, then I’ll start preparing our feast. And after that, a long, deep bath.” She laughed as Merle backed away. The puppy was having trouble learning what “no” meant, but, apparently, he’d learned “bath” quick enough. “For me. You’ve already had your bath. I don’t know what you rolled in this morning, but you certainly smell better now.”

Merle sneezed.

Laughing, Ari set off, with Merle bumbling along beside her, to walk the land and listen to whatever messages were there.

“Are we ready?” Dianna asked quietly.

“If the horses’ hind legs don’t sink into the ground from the weight of these saddlebags, then we’re ready,” Aiden teased. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn we didn’t leave anything for the Clan feast.”

“We aren’t bringing that much,” Dianna muttered.

“That’s easy for you to say.” Lyrra said it in a grumble, but her eyes danced with amusement. “You weren’t the one who kept taking bits and pieces of the feast—or the jars to put them in. And you weren’t the one who requested a plainly roasted chicken.” She widened her eyes and shuddered. “Plain chicken?” she said in horror, her voice a high, scratchy, perfect imitation of the Lady of the Hearth, who ruled the kitchens that produced the meals for the Clan. “The Huntress can’t be wanting plain chicken.”

Dianna stared at Lyrra, not sure if she should laugh or run. “Did we get a plain chicken?”

Lyrra, continuing her imitation, sniffed haughtily. “It’ll be basted with honey butter. That will be plain enough. Imagine. Plain chicken, No stuffings. No sauces.” Sniff. “So, yes,” Lyrra said in her own voice, “we got a plainly roasted chicken, and I’m sure between requesting that and snitching the rest I’ll never get another morsel out of the kitchens no matter how many amusing stories I tell.”

“Oh,” Dianna said. She was very glad she hadn’t braved the kitchens. The Lady of the Hearth would have been doubly offended if she’d asked for the chicken directly. At least with Lyrra, such a request, while unusual, wasn’t too shocking. The Muse was known for moments of whimsy.

“Are you sure we can’t bring a packhorse?” Aiden asked plaintively.

“That would be too obvious,” Dianna said tartly. Then she looked at Aiden’s harp and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Unless you need one.”

He smiled at her, and she knew she’d swallowed the bait and never saw the hook.

“I’m bringing my smallest harp,” Aiden said. “It doesn’t have as much range as the other, but it will do well enough for this evening. And Lyrra can manage her drum. It’s not that long a ride.”

“Then let’s go while everyone else is preoccupied with dressing for the evening feast and festivities.”

Except everyone wasn’t preoccupied. Falco met them before they reached the stables.

“Take me with you,” he said.

“This is a private celebration,” Dianna said, giving him her best Huntress stare.

“You’re going to the cottage, aren’t you? That’s what you’ve been whispering about these past few days, isn’t it?”

“This is none of your concern,” Dianna said sharply.

“You’re taking Aiden and Lyrra, and they’ve never even been there before.” He gave her a sly look. “I’ve been there several times.”

“And you wouldn’t be able to keep that to yourself,” Dianna snapped. “She knows the hawk is a Fae Lord, but she doesn’t know I’m Fae, and she’s not going to. Not yet. But you’d give out so many hints about rabbits and hawks she’d have to be deaf and blind not to realize you’re the hawk. And if you’re with us, it would make her wonder about us.”

Falco looked sulky. “If I can’t go with you, I’ll just have to spend the evening with Lucian.”

Dianna’s breath caught at the audacity of that threat. Lucian would find out about this evening sooner or later, but she’d prefer that it be later. Much later.

“If wanting to go is making him stupid enough to utter a statement like that, we’d better take him with us,” Aiden said coolly. “At least that way we’ll know what he’s up to. But the Lord of Hawks would do well to remember just how sharply the Bard can hone words into a weapon.”

“Especially when he has the Muse to inspire him,” Lyrra added.

Falco looked nervous but didn’t back down. “I’ll behave. I just want to see how witches celebrate the Solstice.”

Don’t we all, Dianna thought, wondering just what they would find when they reached Brightwood.

Ari put on the long, sleeveless sea-blue vest, then looked down at herself. Her own brown skirt would stand for the earth. The ivory lawn tunic, which had belonged to her grandmother, would stand for air. Her mother’s vest would stand for water.

“I doubt anyone would mistake me for a lady of fashion, but at least, in some way, the three of us will stand together for this celebration. Besides, no one but Merle is going to see me, and he won’t care how I’m dressed. And I don’t care what anyone would think about the way I’m dressed anyway. Well, perhaps Neall.” She paused, then added softly, “But he would understand that the three of us together had held the four branches of the Mother, and this is the only way I can do that—and this is only a gesture to water and air at best. But I still need something for fire.”

Opening a drawer in her dressing table, she took out her grandmother’s jewelry box. “Gran used to wear a garnet pin to stand for fire. That would—” She opened the box, frowned at the contents. Lucian’s gifts were on top of the bits of jewelry the women in her family had collected over generations.

She took out a ruby pendant, held it up to the light.

“On this day, we give thanks to the Lightbringer, the Lord of the Sun, for the season of light and the warmth of that makes all things grow.”

She didn’t think she would be able to say those words this time. It had been different when he’d been nameless, faceless. When it had seemed that he did, indeed, hold the power of the sun in his grasp. When she’d thought he was a little different from the rest of the Fae, who seemed to use their gifts only when there was something in it for them. But he really wasn’t different from the rest of them. In fact, he had much in common with the gentry men of her own world— except that he could turn into a horse.

No, it was the Mother who changed the seasons and made things grow. The Lightbringer might be one of Her most powerful servants, but he was no less a servant than the rest of them—and he didn’t even acknowledge that much.

Do you ever give anything you value, Lucian? Do you ever give when the giving would inconvenience you?

It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t do. The pledge she’d made to him had been fulfilled. And there was Neall to think about now, Neall who was patiently waiting for an answer. But there was one way she could honor the Lightbringer and what he stood for.

She put on the ruby pendant. It nestled above the pentagram as if it belonged there.

It was the first time she had worn any of the jewelry he had given her. Since he was who he was, the pendant was a fitting choice to stand for fire.

Dianna wasn’t sure if it was shock or just surprise that filled Ari’s face when she looked out the open half of the kitchen door and saw them all standing there.

“I didn’t want you celebrating the Solstice alone, so I decided to join you.” Dianna hesitated, no longer certain this was a good idea since Ari looked so uncomfortable. “And I brought some friends,” she finished lamely.

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

Oh dear, Dianna thought when Ari didn’t open the other half of the door and welcome them in. Maybe she isn’t alone. Maybe that Neall is with her, and that’s why she isn’t eager to have us here. If that’s the case, that’s all the more reason to stay. I’d like to get another look at Lucian’s rival. “This is Aiden, Lyrra, and Falco. Aiden is a minstrel, and Lyrra sometimes accompanies him.”

“I’m his inspiration,” Lyrra said, giving Ari a smile.

Aiden slanted a look at Lyrra and said nothing.

Looking more resigned than pleased, Ari opened the kitchen door. “Come in and be welcome.”

It was the first time Dianna had seen Ari openly wear the pentagram. It was also the first time she’d seen Ari wear any jewelry that had come from Lucian. Oh, yes, she recognized that pendant and began to wonder—and worry—about why Ari chose to wear it tonight.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Falco’s grimace as he made a quick appraisal of Ari’s costume. And she saw the way Ari blushed and looked increasingly uncomfortable.

Before she could decide what to say, or how to move close enough to Falco to stomp on his foot without it being obvious, Lyrra stepped forward. Her expression was equally appraising.

“Is that a traditional Solstice costume?” Lyrra asked. “It reminds me of places where land and water meet.” She laughed quietly. “Never mind me. Everyone says I can be a bit fanciful at times.”

“Actually, you’re right,” Ari said. “I chose these clothes to stand for earth, water, air, and fire—the four branches of the Mother.”

Dianna suppressed a sigh. Had Ari given any thought at all to Lucian when she decided to wear that pendant or was the ruby being a red stone the sole reason for the decision?

“We didn’t come empty-handed,” Dianna said brightly.

Ari still hesitated. “Dianna, may I speak with you for a moment?” She turned and walked into the cottage’s main room.

Glancing uneasily at her companions, Dianna followed.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Ari said hurriedly, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t be overheard. “But the Solstice— Do they know what I am?”

“Yes, they know,” Dianna replied.

“And they can accept that?”

“They wouldn’t have come with me if they couldn’t.” Dianna waited. “Is there something you need to do this evening that can’t be done while others are here?”

“There is something that needs to be done,” Ari agreed slowly, “but it can be observed by others.”

“I just wanted to bring you a little company and music. If that doesn’t give pleasure, we can go.”

“No,” Ari said quickly. She finally gave Dianna a warm smile. “No, don’t go. It would give me pleasure to celebrate with you.”

“In that case, let’s unpack the feast.”

As she turned back toward the kitchen, she heard a soft whimper.

“Merle?” Ari said, walking over to the rocking chair in front of the hearth. She knelt beside it, frowning at the cowering puppy. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Merle. These are friends.”

Not his friends, Dianna thought as she stared at the puppy. And he knows it.

Ari rose. “I guess he’s intimidated by having so many people here. He’s not used to it.”

That explanation would serve well enough.

Not giving Ari any more time to wonder about the puppy’s behavior, Dianna linked her arm through Ari’s and led the girl back to the kitchen.

Lyrra was emptying the saddlebags Aiden and Falco had brought in. A variety of pots and jars filled the worktable beside the sink. Apparently, they’d had no doubts about her ability to convince Ari to let them stay.

“Hold the saddlebag,” Lyrra muttered at Aiden. “This one’s stuck.” When she finally tugged the covered dish out of the saddlebag, everyone stared at the bright-colored ribbons that were tied around it.

“Were you expecting it to fly away?” Aiden asked blandly.

“I didn’t want the cover to fall off,” Lyrra grumbled. A minute later, as the knots refused to yield, the grumbling turned to growls. “Do you have a knife?”

The Mother only knew what Ari was thinking while she sliced through the ribbons. Dianna wasn’t sure what to think either. At least Aiden was deft enough about opening and pouring the wine, and Falco managed to put a sufficient number of plates and pieces of cutlery on the table for them, even if it looked like they’d been tossed on the table rather than deliberately set.

When everything was on the table, Falco carved the chicken while Aiden carved the beef roast. Ari put a small bowl with pieces of beef and chicken in front of the rocking chair for Merle. She looked sad when even that wasn’t sufficient to entice the frightened pup.

They had just taken their seats when someone knocked on the kitchen door.

“Excuse me,” Ari said, hurrying to answer.

Dianna watched her go. No one pretended to fill their plates. They were all too busy trying to catch the conversation, especially since the voice responding to Ari was pitched low enough to belong to a man.

That Neall. Who else would be showing up this evening? And he certainly hadn’t been in her plans.

Except it wasn’t Neall.

A few moments later, Ari returned, looking nervous.

Lucian didn’t look nervous, and what burned in the back of his eyes wasn’t surprise. But there was nothing he could do without distressing Ari—at least, Dianna hoped he would take that into consideration.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Lucian said mildly.

“Blessings of the day to you,” Lyrra said, smiling. Her smile faded when Dianna and Lucian just stared at her. “I’m sorry. Isn’t that the proper greeting?”

“It is in this house,” Ari replied. She made the introductions, then said, “I’ll fetch a chair for you, Lucian.”

“I’ll get the chair,” Aiden said. “Ari, you sit next to your guest. Falco, move over and sit beside Dianna.”

While Ari hurried to get another place setting, Falco moved his chair and Aiden found another.

At first, Dianna wished she’d been the first to offer to move since sitting beside Lucian throughout the meal wasn’t going to be comfortable. When Aiden set his chair at the other end of the table and sat down, she was glad she hadn’t been the first to offer. At least she wouldn’t be the one who would have to keep meeting the anger in Lucian’s eyes—and if anyone could stand equal to the Lightbringer in a battle of wills, it was the Bard.

“We are well met,” Dianna said, raising her glass.

“We are well met,” Lucian echoed, following her example.

“May friendship warm us all the days of our lives,” Ari added, smiling.

There was nothing to add to that, and, somehow, for Dianna, those words made her deception over the past few weeks a difficult meal to swallow.

Deception might be a hard meal to swallow, but, Dianna reasoned, honesty would have been harder, and a little more deception wouldn’t hurt at this point. She pulled Ari aside as soon as she could after the meal ended, and whispered, “Is he the one?”

“Yes,” Ari whispered back.

“He’s certainly handsome.”

“Yes, he is.” Then Ari added with a touch of annoyance, “But he’s usually more polite.”

Dianna gave Ari a woman-to-woman smile. “I expect he was hoping to spend time with you alone.”

Ari grabbed Dianna’s hand, squeezed lightly, then let go. “I’m glad you came tonight,” she said abruptly. Pushing up her sleeves, she pumped water into the basin to wash the dishes.

Not sure what to make of that statement, but certain that it didn’t bode well, Dianna hurried back into the main room to help Lyrra finish clearing the table.

“We scraped through dinner all right,” Lyrra said quietly. “Aiden can hold his own with Lucian, but Falco looks like he’s going to try to change shape and fly away at any moment.”

“Why don’t you go outside with the men and try to keep things calm?”

“I’d rather stay inside and help Ari with these chores. Why don’t you go out there?”

“I met her first. I get to stay inside. Besides, Lucian isn’t angry with you.”

“Oh, I think Lucian is angry enough right now for it to spill over on all of us. But nothing will happen until we get back to Tir Alainn.” Lyrra picked up the wineglasses. “I must admit, tonight I don’t look forward to going home.”

Neither do I, Dianna thought, unless Lucian stays here tonight. And I don’t think he will.

“How about a little music?” Aiden asked, taking his harp out of its case.

“Dance music,” Dianna said brightly. “We have two fine gentlemen here who will sacrifice their toes in the spirit of a pleasant entertainment.” To avoid seeing what Lucian might think of this, she turned to Ari. “Come on, Ari.”

“Oh, I— I don’t know how to dance,” Ari said quickly.

“You don’t dance?” Lyrra sounded scandalized.

“Not that kind of dance.”

Dianna could feel curiosity swell the air around them, but none of them felt quite brazen enough to ask what kind of dances witches did know. “Well then, it’s time you learned. Just a simple country dance. The steps aren’t difficult. I’ll show you.” She grabbed Ari’s arm and pulled until the girl was standing beside her. Then she looked expectantly at Lucian and Falco.

Falco gave Ari one hopeful look before wisely taking his place facing Dianna. Lucian took his place more slowly, his eyes watchful.

“It truly isn’t difficult,” Lucian said softly.

Lyrra set the beat with her drum.

Good, Dianna thought as Aiden and Lyrra began to sing. The dance had simple, repetitive steps. Even so, Ari was too self-conscious to relax into the music and follow its rhythm. Or maybe too conscious of Lucian. He did look wonderful when he danced. If only that was the reason Ari kept missing the cues in the music of what to do next.

The next dance was a little better, even if it wasn’t a dance any of them knew.

Deciding to give Falco a warning that he was coming too close to acting like a fool, Dianna trod on his foot. Falco, exaggerating shamelessly, began hopping in a circle on one foot. Ari, thinking this was the next step, imitated him. There really wasn’t anything for Lucian and Dianna to do but go along with it. Lyrra abandoned the words of the song and began singing silly dance steps.

By the time the tune was done, Ari was laughing, and Lucian almost looked as if he would forgive them for coming to Brightwood that evening.

“No more,” Ari gasped, collapsing in one of the chairs that they had brought outside. She fanned her face with her hand.

Sinking into the chair beside Ari’s, Dianna exchanged a look with Lyrra, who grinned. Yes, the evening was going well, despite its surprises.

“Why don’t you play us a song, Aiden?” Lucian said.

“The Lover’s Lament,” Dianna said. A moment later, seeing the way Lyrra’s eyes widened, she realized it might not have been the best song to request. Then again, maybe it would help Ari understand a man’s feelings where the custom of gifting was concerned.

After a slight hesitation, Aiden began to play the introduction. He glanced at Lyrra, who nodded. She would sing the woman’s responses to her lover.

I gave my love a string of pearls

As fine as they could be.

She gave me back the string of pearls.

“These aren’t the jewels for me.”

I gave my love a sapphire fair,

‘Twas bluer than the sea.

She gave me back the sapphire fair.

“ ‘Tis not the jewel for me.”

I gave my love a diamond rare,

‘Twas beautiful to see.

She gave me back the diamond rare.

“ Tis not the jewel for me.

‘Tis not the jewel for me.“

Dianna looked out of the corner of her eye at Ari. The girl didn’t seem caught up in the feelings of a lover’s sadness that his gifts were never sufficient; she seemed puzzled.

“Didn’t you like it?” Aiden asked.

“It’s lovely,” Ari said, “and you both sing it very well. But—” She struggled for a moment, then added, “I wondered why you didn’t sing the last two verses. The song is very sad this way.”

Dianna stiffened. She looked anxiously at Aiden, whose eyes had changed to a piercing blue.

“You know other verses?” Aiden demanded.

Aiden, she’s not an apprentice bard. Don’t take that tone with her.

“Umm . . . well . . . yes,” Ari stammered, then added hurriedly, “But it might be that it’s not usually sung with the other verses. It’s just the way I learned it.”

“Then you can sing them?”

Lucian straightened up in his chair in response to the sharpness in Aiden’s voice.

“Aiden,” Lyrra said, giving him a gentle nudge, “sometimes you let your quest for songs ride roughshod over your manners.” She gave Ari her best smile. “Don’t pay attention to him. I would like to hear the other verses.”

“Oh . . . I don’t sing very well.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Aiden said. He huffed when the next nudge Lyrra gave him wasn’t so gentle. “Please sing them. Start with the last verse we sang and go on.”

He started playing the verse. Ari didn’t sing. She just chewed on her lower lip and hunched in her chair.

Aiden took a deep breath—and let it out slowly. “What?”

“Well, it’s not really two more verses. There’s a . . . a . . . transition verse—”

“A bridge.”

Ari nodded. “A bridge, and then the last verse.”

“I think I can follow along,” Aiden said dryly. When he started to play again and she still didn’t sing, he stopped. “Something else?”

“The version I know isn’t played quite so mournful.”

Aiden played a verse through at a slightly increased tempo, then glanced at Ari. When she nodded, Dianna sighed in relief.

I gave my love a diamond rare,

‘Twas beautiful to see.

She gave me back the diamond rare.

“ ‘Tis not the jewel for me.”

I wandered through the days and nights

And finally I did see

What jewels it was my lady fair

Was looking for from me.

I gave her kindness, courtesy.

Respect, and loyalty.

I strung them on the strands of love.

“These are the jewels for me.

These are the jewels for me.“

Aiden finished the song with a repeat of the introduction. When he finished, there was silence.

An uncomfortable, almost painful, silence.

None of them dared look at Lucian.

Oh, Lucian, Dianna thought. If that’s what she’s expecting from a lover, she’s more of a starry-eyed romantic than any human I've met. No wonder your gifts meant so little.

“That was lovely, Ari,” Lyrra said.

Ari mumbled a “thank you” and looked out at the meadow.

A drum beat. Stopped.

They all turned toward the sound.

Six of the Small Folk were standing nearby. Three men and three women. They all wore surly, suspicious expressions. Two of the men carried drums.

“Blessings of the day to you,” Ari said, smiling. “Come and be welcome.”

One man came forward. “We came for the dance,” he said gruffly, looking at Dianna. “We always come for the dance. ‘Tis a custom.”

“The dance?” Dianna asked quietly, leaning toward Ari.

“Yes, the dance,” Ari said. She looked out at the meadow and the softening daylight. “It’s time.”

Dianna tensed when Ari stood up and walked to a spot in the meadow that was parallel to a brazier filled with kindling. When they’d come outside after dinner, she’d noticed the small circle of stones that formed the fire pit that held the brazier, but thought nothing of it.

For a full minute, Ari just stood there. When she took the first step, the small man began to beat the drum. The other drummer joined him. When she’d taken half a dozen steps, Ari made a quarter turn so that she faced the brazier. She raised her arms, her hands curling as if she were clasping two other dancers’ hands on either side of her. Crossover step, crossover step, turn to face forward, step one, two, three, then turn back to face the center of the circle. Crossover step, crossover step, turn to face forward, step one, two, three, then turn back to face the center of the circle.

Not a circle, Dianna decided when Ari reached the point where she had started. A spiral dance that will end right at that brazier. And then what will happen?

Her feet tingled. At first, she ignored it. When she saw Lyrra jerk her feet off the ground, she pulled her attention away from Ari to look at the rest of the Fae. Lucian was pale and had his hands clenched. Aiden was holding his harp so tightly his knuckles were white. Falco looked scared. And Lyrra kept shifting around in her chair, as if she could no longer sit still.

The tingling got worse, as if her feet were in some odd kind of river.

It is a river, Dianna thought, focusing on the dance that spiraled closer and closer to its end. A river of magic. She’s drawing all the magic in Brightwood into that spiral.

There was no wind, but the air seemed to be in motion—and she would swear that something in the air sparkled as it moved toward the dance.

She glanced at the Small Folk. They weren’t alarmed by what was happening while Ari danced.

By the time Ari reached the brazier and stood quietly before it, everything felt like it was in motion.

Ari pointed at the brazier. The kindling inside it burst into flames. “We give thanks for the branch of fire. It is the Mother’s heart, and like all passions, it can warm or it can burn.” She picked up a goblet beside the fire pit and slowly poured the water inside it onto the ground. “We give thanks for the branch of water. It is the Mother’s tears, shed in laughter and in pain.” She raised her arms until they formed curves over her head. “We give thanks for the branch of air. It is the Mother’s breath.” She moved her arms closer until her fingertips touched. “We give thanks for the branch of earth. It is the Mother’s body and gives us life. May Her blessings be bountiful.”

As Ari slowly opened her arms, Dianna felt the surge of released power. It rose high in the air, arced, then flowed in ripples that spread and spread and spread until they would reach every stone, every tree, every nook and cranny within the boundaries of Brightwood.

The drumming stopped.

The Small Folk were smiling.

Looking weary but content, Ari smiled back at them. “May the Mother bless your days,” she said.

“And yours, Mistress Ari,” one of the small men said. Giving the Fae a wary glance, he and the others walked across the meadow and disappeared into the woods.

Dianna sat there, knowing she would have to say something—the right something—when Ari rejoined them. She had no idea what that might be. Only one thought kept circling in her head: she hadn’t realized just how powerful the witches truly were, hadn’t realized how much power Ari had. If the girl gathered that much magic and released it toward a target . . .

Was that what had happened to the roads through the Veil? That much power would certainly tear it away from whatever anchored it to the human world. They had known the witches were somehow connected to losing pieces of Tir Alainn. But Ari had seemed harmless, ineffective.

She wasn’t harmless. Now they had proof of just how powerful a witch could be. Had Lucian known that?

Dianna slanted a look at her brother.

No, Lucian hadn’t known.

Now, more than ever, they needed to make sure Ari was a friend to the Fae—or they needed to make sure she could do no harm.

She didn’t want to think about that possibility. Not right now.

When Ari sank into the chair beside hers, Dianna still didn’t know what to say.

“You probably want to start back now while there’s still some daylight left,” Ari said, not looking at any of them.

“Yes,” Dianna said faintly, “that would be best.”

“I’ll saddle the horses,” Falco said.

“I’ll help him, if you’ll pack the harp,” Aiden said, glancing at Lyrra, who nodded.

Since the saddlebags had already been repacked, it didn’t take much time before they were ready to leave.

“It was a lovely evening, Ari,” Lyrra said. “Thank you for sharing it with us.”

“Blessings of the day to you,” Ari replied quietly.

Dianna reached for Ari’s hand, gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll see you again soon.”

“Yes.”

Dianna joined Lyrra, Aiden, and Falco by the horses. She looked back in time to see Lucian kiss Ari’s hand. Was he being that circumspect because he had an audience or because he didn’t dare do more?

With one hot glance at her, Lucian changed form and galloped across the meadow. Since the rest of them still had to pretend they’d come from somewhere in the human world and had to circle around out of sight in order to reach the shining road, he would be back in Tir Alainn well before the rest of them.

That was for the best. She might be able to slip by him and avoid any discussions until the morning.

As they rode away, Lyrra asked quietly, “Did we do harm or good here tonight?”

“I wish I knew,” Dianna replied.

Ari poured the last of the pale-tasting wine Lucian had brought, drank it down in two swallows, then sat on the bench. Hearing a soft whine coming from the open kitchen door, she said, “It’s all right. They’re gone now.”

Merle crept out of the cottage. He pressed himself against her leg, shivering.

Ari picked him up and set him on her lap.

“They don’t know anything about witches,” she told him. “If they did, they would have known their glamour magic wouldn’t hide them during the dance. They must all know each other, maybe they’re all from the same Clan, and yet they pretended Lucian was a stranger. I may be young, but I’m not blind.” She laughed. There was a hint of bitterness in it. “Well, Dianna did tell me she had had dealings with the Fae. She’d just forgotten to mention that she was one herself. I wonder which one.” She rubbed her nose against Merle’s soft fur. “Perhaps that’s a question best left unanswered.” She studied the puppy’s coloring. “You’re a shadow hound, aren’t you? But your mother mated with a less-than-desirable male, and that made you worthless in their eyes. No wonder you’re so afraid of them. No wonder you can recognize them. But if you’re undesirable because you’re not a pure blood, what does that make me? I can’t even claim that much of their world. What do they want? I’m certain now they want something. But they’re keeping it hidden, just as they hide their real faces.”

Setting Merle down, she walked over to the chopping block.

“Since you were hiding, you didn’t see how often Falco looked at this chopping block and tried not to smile. I wonder if we’ll be getting any more rabbits after today.”

She walked over to the brazier and sat down. The kindling had burned quickly, but there were still a few hot embers. They never doused this fire. It always quietly burned out on its own. It had been a dry summer, so she would sit there for a while to make sure no puff of wind blew a spark into the meadow.

No, the Fae didn’t know about witches, didn’t understand the dance. Strong pockets and pools of magic would form over time. The cottage was one of them because that’s where she lived. But there were other places around Brightwood that drew magic to them, making it harder for Small Folk who didn’t live near one of those pockets or pools to keep their own magic balanced. And sometimes those pools became strong enough to trap a being who didn’t have much magic. So the dance drew all the magic that came from the Mother’s branches into one place so that it could flow through the witches and be sent out again to cover the Old Place.

It drew magic that came from the Mother’s branches. But no other kind of magic. So the Small Folk always appeared as bright spots of magic standing in a world that looked a little pale. And she’d expected to see Lucian as another bright spot. She hadn’t expected to see the rest of her guests shine as well.

“In one way, they did me a kindness tonight,” Ari told Merle. “Now I have an answer to give Neall the next time I see him.”

Lucian was waiting for her when she got to her rooms at the Clan house.

“As we live and breathe, Dianna, what were you thinking of?” he shouted.

Already worried, Dianna put spurs to her temper and let it run. As she slammed the door, she shouted back, “I could say the same about you!”

“I didn’t know she was a witch when I accepted the promise she made at the Summer Moon. And if I remember right, you were the one who encouraged me to accept it.”

“You still wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been visiting and found out.”

Lucian’s voice got quiet and deadly. “But you knew before tonight. You knew before the rest of us. Oh, yes, I figured out where Aiden got his information about the pentagram. So tell me, sister, just why have you been visiting Ari?”

“Because I was concerned about you!” Dianna stopped, paced, made some effort to rein in her temper. “You’ve never shown that much interest in a human female before. I wanted to see for myself what kind of person she was.”

“That explains the first time you went there. It doesn’t explain the rest.”

“What rest?” Dianna snapped, feeling more and more cornered.

“You kept going back,” Lucian said, his hands curling into fists. “Why? And why give her a useless puppy? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the little mongrel? Especially when I’d seen it right here in our own gardens?”

“It has no value to us, but it’s not useless to her!” Dianna pressed her lips together.

“It’s easy to give away something that has no meaning, isn’t it?”

You should talk, Dianna thought furiously. And then realized that was exactly where some of Lucian’s anger was coming from. “I did no harm.”

“No harm?” Lucian stared at her. “No harm? She’s a witch!. You felt, and saw, the way she drew the magic out of the land. If she hadn’t released it again, would we have had a home to come back to tonight?”

“You can’t lay this all on my shoulders, Lucian. You can’t.”

“Why were you there tonight?” he roared.

The truth burst out of her. “Because I like her!” She tried to stop . . . and couldn’t. Tears filled her eyes, spilled over. “I like her. I didn’t want to, had never intended to go there more than once. I went the first time because I was concerned about you. I went back the second time because I was curious about her. But I kept going back because I like her.” She brushed the tears off her face. “Tonight I just wanted her to have a little fun. She told me there’s a Midsummer celebration in the village, with music and dancing, but she’s not welcome there because she’s a witch. And we would be celebrating the Solstice here, with music and dancing and a feast. And she would have been alone. I didn’t want her to be alone.”

Lucian sat on the window seat. His shoulders sagged. He sighed. “I know. That’s why I went to Brightwood tonight.” He smiled wryly. “Poor Aiden. No wonder he was so tense when he told me you had already engaged him and Lyrra to perform at a special celebration.”

Hopeful that the storm between them had passed, Dianna took a couple of steps toward her brother. “Aiden wasn’t nearly as upset as Falco. He’d threatened to tell you we were going to Brightwood unless we took him with us—and then you showed up.”

Lucian chuckled. “Served him right.”

As amusement and anger faded, she saw the hurt and confusion underneath. “You care about her, don’t you?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Yes, I care. I don’t want to. At least, not this much. But I do care.” He hesitated. “I did have another reason for going there tonight.”

“I can think of one obvious one,” Dianna said dryly.

He shook his head. “One of those louts from the village has asked her to marry him, and she’s actually considering it. I couldn’t see any reason why she would do that unless she couldn’t stand being so lonely anymore. So I thought. . .” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve visited most of the Clans here in Sylvalan—the eastern and midland ones, anyway. I even visited a couple of Clans in Arktos before they completely disappeared. And in learning how to deal with the human world, I’ve seen a good part of Sylvalan as well. The farthest she’s ever gone is a coastal town a day’s journey from Brightwood. She knows little of stories and music. She knows little of anything besides her weaving and her garden and her magic. I could show her the stories and the music, talk to her about other things.”

“Be a mentor as well as a lover?” Dianna asked softly.

“What’s wrong with that? Why should she settle for some rutting human who will roll on top of her, pump his hips a few times, then roll back off, when I can give her pleasure? Why should she grow old while she’s still so young because she’s always working?”

Dianna frowned. “Then why weren’t you there tonight to be a lover?”

Lucian sprang up from the window seat. “Because she won’t be with me until she’s decided what to do about him. Only a dog should have that kind of loyalty.”

The words hung in the air.

“If she chooses you, how long would this arrangement last?” Dianna asked cautiously.

“As long as it pleases both of us.”

“What if she wants children?”

He shuddered—and she quietly sighed in relief.

“My children, when I have them, will be Fae,” he said quietly. “I am the Lightbringer. I can accept no less.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I want to be with her because I care. But we also need to keep Ari away from anyone who might turn her against us.”

“Agreed. We need to protect her for her own sake as well as for ours.” She had a name for that lout who wanted to marry Ari. But that wasn’t something she was going to share with Lucian just yet. Not until she knew what Ari decided.