by Anne Bishop
Neall studied the older man, saw strong emotion ruthlessly controlled. “Why would it matter to you?”
Ahern didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, “When I was a young man, I did exactly what you said—I came to the human world for diversion and amusement of all kinds. Young human gentlemen call it getting some town bronze. The Fae don’t have a name for it, but it amounts to the same thing. Seasoning. Experience. I was a randy young stallion. And I enjoyed myself.
“Then one day, I met a young woman who was quite unlike anyone else I’d ever met. She was forthright and bright—and not at all impressed that a Fae Lord found her interesting. A challenge for a young man who was impressed with himself. So I did my best to woo her. And I succeeded a little too well. She loved. I cared. Can you see the difference?”
“Yes,” Neall said softly.
Ahern nodded. “Thought you would. I visited the Clan near where she lived for a couple of months, but I spent most of my nights with her. Then, one day, I got an itch for . . . a different experience. So I left. Traveled. Grew into my power and became the Lord of the Horse. But I never forgot her, compared every other woman to her. So I decided to go back, sure I would be welcomed with open arms. After all, I was a Fae Lord and she was just a human female.
“Except she wasn’t just a human female. She was a witch. I knew that. As I said, she was forthright. I just didn’t understand what it meant.
“When I trotted up to her cottage one evening, I saw a small child, a girl, playing outside. She was holding a bowl and was making the water inside it rise and fall. She had my dark hair and her mother’s woodland eyes.”
When Ahern didn’t say anything more, Neall said, “What happened?”
“I wasn’t welcome. And it hurt. I still cared, but she no longer loved. I had tossed that aside like a trinket when it had been new and shining. I never got it back. Even when we eventually became lovers again for a while, I never got it back. She cared. That was a pale emotion compared to what she’d once given me.
“I couldn’t live with her family, and I couldn’t go back to the way I had lived my life. I tried. So I made an agreement with the matriarch of the family to lease some of the land. I built a house, and I brought some fine Fae horses with me. I bought a stallion and some mares from this world, and I began to breed horses.
“And I watched that girl child grow up into a fine young woman. And I watched that young woman fall in love with a selkie man, a Lord of the Sea. And I watched her bring a daughter into the world, a little girl with the gifts of earth and fire.
“I watched from a distance what I might have shared in full.”
Neall gripped the fence rail with both hands. “Does Ari know you’re her grandfather?”
Ahern shook his head. “And she doesn’t know her father was a selkie man, just that her mother had a love for the sea.” He paused. “Tell me something. You must have gotten the Fae blood from your father. Do you know anything about him?”
“He had a quiet laugh. When we took walks, he would tell me stories. I didn’t realize at the time how much he was teaching me about the woods with those stories. And I remember the way he and my mother would look at each other and just smile.”
Ahern gave him a strange look. “He lived with you. She was a witch, and he lived in her house.”
“Yes.” Neall saw Ahern’s face tighten with some strong emotion. “I want to have with Ari the same thing my mother and father had. I want to love . . . and be loved.”
“You’re going to Brightwood tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’ll go over to see if she’s made her decision yet.”
“You can stay here until she does.” Ahern closed his eyes. “Find the right word to convince her, young Neall. Find the right words.”
Chapter Twenty-six
When Ari saw Aiden riding down the road early the next morning, she set the water buckets down by the garden wall and waited.
Did they use the glamour magic and ride down human roads because they didn’t want to alarm any humans they might deal with? Or was it nothing more than a deceit that made it easier for them to get what they wanted, a deceit that would be maintained until they chose otherwise?
“Good morning, Mistress Ari,” Aiden said.
“You must have been up at dawn to get to Brightwood so early,” Ari said. “From what Dianna has said, I had gathered you have a ways to travel to get to . . . where you’re staying.”
She saw his puzzlement and caution. She hadn’t given him the expected greeting. Hadn’t actually responded to his.
“My apologies,” Aiden said. “I’m disturbing you.”
Ari relented. She didn’t know why Aiden had come with Dianna last evening, but he’d done nothing except provide enjoyable music.
“The kettle is still hot. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Thank you.” When he dismounted, he noticed the buckets by the garden wall. “Can I carry those somewhere for you?”
Ari smiled. “I thank you for the offer, but they’re right where they’re supposed to be.” Then she paused, and added, “Perhaps you should bring one to the back of the cottage. Your horse may want some water, and I’ve only the two buckets.”
Aiden picked up one bucket and followed her around the cottage. While he set the bucket in a bit of shade and slipped off the horse’s bridle so the animal could graze, Ari made tea and put some of the small cakes that were left over from the feast on a plate. She felt a prick of amusement when Aiden looked at the plate and quickly hid his disappointment—and she wondered if she should have offered slices of her bread instead. She’d noticed that her guests had all helped themselves to more of her food than all the dishes they had provided. She couldn’t blame them. The beef roast had tasted wonderful while the chicken, like the rest of their food, had been like eating solid air—the teeth found something to chew, but the tongue found no flavor.
“I came this morning for a selfish reason,” Aiden said, sitting on the bench with her, the plate of cakes between them.
Naturally, Ari thought. Would one of them have come for any other reason? “And what is that?”
“The song. It pricked my pride.” He smiled. “I have an excellent memory, and I’d been sure I’d learned most of the songs that are sung. “But I’d never heard those verses of ‘The Lover’s Lament’ before.”
“As I said, it may be a variation of the song that’s only known around here.”
“No,” Aiden said thoughtfully. “I don’t think that’s true. I have the feeling it’s sung that way more often than anyone realized.”
“Perhaps. Here, it’s known as ‘Love’s Jewels,’ so the different name may have caused confusion.”
“I’ve never heard it by that name, either.”
Ari didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing.
Eventually, Aiden said, “It occurred to me that you may know some songs that have been forgotten elsewhere. There’s one I’ve been trying to find for a while now.”
“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine.”
“All right.”
Ari turned on the bench so that she faced him. “Which one are you?”
“I’m Aiden,” he said slowly. “The minstrel.”
Ari turned away and huffed. “If you’re nothing more than a minstrel, then I’m the finest gentry lady in Sylvalan. You’re a Fae Lord. I want to know which one.”
“What makes you think I’m Fae?” He didn’t drop the glamour magic, but the grim expression made the human mask look more like his real face.
“Magic shines, Lord Aiden,” Ari said. “Especially during the dance. It’s something you should keep in mind the next time you want to deceive a witch.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a deceit,” Aiden protested.
“It isn’t what I call honesty,” Ari said sharply. “Friendships that are founded on lies aren’t friendships.”
“The feelings can be true even if the surface isn’t what you would call h
onest,” Aiden replied, his voice equally sharp.
“Are there any feelings, Aiden?” Ari asked, her anger suddenly changing to sadness.
“I can’t answer for someone else.” He looked out at the meadow for a long time. Then he sighed. “I’m the Bard.”
Ari almost asked about the others, then decided against it, knowing instinctively that he would answer questions about himself but would become protective about the others.
“What did you want to know?” she asked.
He hesitated, and she wondered what he thought would happen now if he asked the question.
“Do you know any song about the Pillars of the World?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
Aiden sighed.
Pillars of the World. Why was that familiar?
“I remember,” Ari said before she could bite back the words.
The air around Aiden filled with his intensity, and that intensity made her cautious. She had to tell him something—but not everything. Not until she figured out why the Fae had become so interested in Brightwood. It wasn’t just because Lucian had been her lover for a little while. She felt sure of that.
“The day my grandmother died,” Ari said, struggling to find a way to say just enough, “she went for a walk, up to her favorite hill. Before she left, she said, ‘The Pillars of the World have been forgotten. It is time they also forgot.’ ”
“Did she say anything more?” Aiden demanded.
Ari shook her head, not daring to look at him in case he could sense the lie. “We—We went looking for her when the afternoon waned and she still hadn’t come back. We found her on the hill. She had fallen asleep . . . and died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I miss her.” She stood up. “You’ll have to excuse me, Aiden. I want to get the garden watered before the sun is too high.”
“Yes, of course.” He whistled to his horse. “Thank you for your time.”
When he was mounted, she said, “Blessings of the day to you, Aiden.”
She wondered why he looked so relieved to hear her say that.
“And to you, Mistress Ari.”
“Why don’t you save yourself some time on the journey back and simply go across the meadow,” Ari said. “That’s the way Lucian went when he left, so I assume it’s the shortest way back to Tir Alainn.”
His only response was to turn his horse and ride away.
Ari watched him until he disappeared into the woods. Then she returned to the chore of watering the garden. There was a great deal to do in the coming weeks—and more to do once the harvest began.
She hoped she hadn’t told Aiden too much. But if anyone could put together the whole from bits and pieces, it was the Bard. She strongly suspected that what he didn’t know, he would be able to guess. She didn’t have a reason for not telling him all of it, only an instinctive hesitation.
The Pillars of the World have been forgotten. It is time they also forgot. It is time they tasted the richness of feelings instead of living on the scraps of affection thrown to them by people who no longer even remember why they throw the scraps.
That sounds like a sad way to live. Who are the Pillars of the World, Gran?
We are.
Yap yap yap.
Ari turned in time to see Merle bound away from the creek bank and head straight toward Neall, who was crouching to greet the pup.
“Be careful,” Ari called. “His paws are—”
Merle bounded one step too far. His paws hit the target.
“—muddy,” Ari finished.
Wincing a little, Neall stood up. “He’s already gotten bigger.” He looked down at Merle. “You’re going to have to learn not to jump like that. You’re getting too big.”
Merle’s entire rump wagged in greeting as he looked up at Neall.
“Are you all right?” Ari asked. “Should I try to wash the mud off?”
“Let it harden first,” Neall said. He blushed. “The mud. Let the mud harden.” He closed his eyes and muttered, “Mother’s mercy.”
Ari burst out laughing.
Neall gave her an exasperated look. “You think this is funny?”
“I’m sorry, Neall, but you’ve got two paw prints—”
“I know where they are,” he said dryly.
“Yes, of course you do.” She focused on a tree to avoid looking at the paw prints. He was embarrassed. She found that sweet. She could see herself teasing him about it months from now.
“Ari . . .”
When she looked at him, concern drove away the amusement. He looked like a man who expected to be hurt.
“Do you have time to talk?” Neall asked quietly.
“Yes.” She held out her hand, surprised by the way his trembled when he took it. Strange to feel like she was the one who was suddenly older, stronger, wiser. But she had the answers; he only had the questions.
“I’m no longer staying at Baron Felston’s house,” Neall said abruptly. “I was asked to leave.” He made a sound that was both bitter and amused. “Thrown out, if you want the truth.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. It’s a relief to be away from them.”
“This happened this morning?”
“Last night. I’m staying with Ahern for the time being.”
“It didn’t occur to you to stay here?” She tried to pull her hand from his. His fingers tightened, refusing to let go.
“Yes, it occurred to me. Mother’s mercy, of course it occurred to me. But it wouldn’t have been fair.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Ari, I’ve tried to wait, I’ve tried to be patient. But now I need to know. I’ll be leaving soon. Will I be going alone?”
“Why have you never kissed me, Neall?”
“Because I was afraid I would want too much more, and you wouldn’t want the same.”
“And now?” She saw his hesitation, saw the nerves.
“Is this a test?” he demanded. “Does my future depend on how well I kiss?”
“No.”
“Then will you at least tell me if this kiss is an ending or a beginning?”
Kindness, courtesy, respect, loyalty. Love. What were Lucian’s trinkets compared to jewels like that? She’d thought about it last night. If she never saw Lucian again, she would remember him fondly and have no regrets. If she never saw Neall again . . .
“It’s a beginning,” she said. Then she smiled. “We’ll build a good life together, Neall.”
His face lit with joy. He put his arms around her, and he kissed her.
There was honesty in his kiss. And there was heart. It didn’t burn through her until she couldn’t think. But it created a warmth deep inside her that swelled until it filled her. This wouldn’t burn hot and fast, swiftly turning to ashes. With Neall, the fire would burn long and slow and sweet.
He broke the kiss, buried his face in her hair. “How long will it take you to pack what you want to take with you? I’m sure Ahern will loan us a wagon. He might even be willing to have a couple of his men ride with us so that they can bring the wagon back.”
“Will Ahern let you stay with him until the harvest?”
His head shot up. “Harvest?” he said in a strangled voice.
“Be sensible, Neall. When we get to your land, there won’t be time to plant a crop to see us through the winter. There won’t be any seeds for next spring. If we wait until the harvest, I’ll be able to can as much as possible from the garden here for us to take with us.”
“But . . . Harvest?”
He sounded so plaintive, she fought not to smile. “Not everything has to wait until the harvest.”
Desire filled his eyes. Then he shook his head. “We’ll wait. If you end up with child, you might feel too poorly to enjoy the journey.”
She almost told him that this was a safe time and that she knew how to prevent creating a babe. But, in a flash of i
nsight, she realized he didn’t want to be with her in the same bed that Lucian had claimed for a little while. He didn’t want to be in a bed where she might compare lovers and find him wanting.
“All right.” Now she smiled. “Come on. We both have work to do.”
“What does that mean?” Dianna asked, looking from Aiden to Lyrra, then back to Aiden. “How can a pillar forget?”
“I can only tell you what I was told,” Aiden said. He raked his fingers through his hair. “But she knows more than she said. I’m sure of that.”
“The Pillars of the World have been forgotten,” Lyrra said quietly. “Pillars of the World. Branches of the Mother.”
Aiden nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“What?” Dianna said impatiently.
Lyrra sighed. “What if those two things are somehow connected? What if it’s the witches’ magic that anchors the road through the Veil to the human world, even if they’re not aware of it?”
Dianna jumped up, too edgy to sit anymore. “Why should it? The Fae created Tir Alainn.”
“All the roads through the Veil are anchored to the Old Places,” Aiden said. “We’ve never thought to look, but it wouldn’t be difficult to find out if there are witches living at each one. And if they are living in the Old Places and that’s what keeps the roads from closing, they might not be destroying Tir Alainn deliberately.”
“All they would have to do is leave the Old Place. As their magic fades from the land—”
“The road would close,” Dianna said softly. “If that’s true, we’ll just have to make sure the witches don’t leave the Old Places.”
“Blessings of the day to you, Ahern,” Ari said. “Are you looking for your old gray stallion again?”
Ahern snorted. “No. And I’m not looking for that pony stud of yours either.” When Ari looked puzzled, he smiled. “The boy said he’d work to earn his keep, so I put him to work.”
Ari felt her cheeks heat. “He told you then.”
“He told me. Well, he didn’t say anything, but he was grinning like a fool when he came back.” He turned toward the sound of a whimper. His face became grim. “When did you get the pup?”