by Anne Bishop
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 rough-shod 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.