And she'd keep a sharper eye on Jean. Fiona would help her with that.
"I'm sure there's nothing wrong with Gran that a good rest won't cure,"
Breanna told Keely with an assurance she didn't feel.
Keely nodded. "I'd better check on my helpers." She narrowed her eyes and stared past Breanna's shoulder. "Liam's coming."
Turning, Breanna watched Liam, Donovan, Gwenn, and Varden striding toward the kitchen garden. Not wanting to waste time walking to one of the gates, she swung herself over the garden wall and hurried to meet them.
Gwenn looked pale. The three men looked grim.
"What is it?" she asked as soon as they met.
"It's begun," Donovan said. "Thanks to Varden's assistance, we're hearing
about it sooner than we would have otherwise."
"What?" Breanna demanded, her heart now thumping against her chest.
Liam took her hand. "The barons of Arktos have crossed the border with an
army. They've joined up with some of Sylvalan's eastern barons." His fingers tightened around hers. "They're fighting in the north."
Breanna tightened her own hold on his hand, finding comfort in his strength.
Do no harm.
The creed had shaped her life. Now it felt like a cherished luxury she had to wrap up and put away. The pang of regret was sharp enough to cut, and she hoped with all her heart that before too many seasons passed, she would be able to wrap herself in that creed again.
"Come along then," she said. "We'd better tell the others and make sure we're as prepared as we can be for whatever the Inquisitors are aiming at us."
As she released Liam's hand and walked toward the house, she suddenly realized Liam and Varden were following her, intent on listening carefully to what she was sensing, feeling, seeing in the world around her.
She watched Falco glide toward the house, land, and change into his human form. Witches were the bridge between Fae and human. They'd always been the bridge, even if none of them had realized it. But she was the link here because her brother was a baron and the man who would soon be her lover was Fae-and because the Small Folk and the other witches in this Old
Place would obey her commands.
Nuala had been right. She carried a burden that went beyond her home and the Old Place in her family's care. And now, as she reached the kitchen doorway, she felt the entire weight of that burden.
Chapter 24.
waxing moon Selena shifted restlessly, tangling the covers as the dream tangled her mind.
The ground trembled. Not a disturbance that rose up from the land, but a force upon it. Rhythmic. Steady. Something that would be familiar if it weren't so strong.
Rhythmic. Steady.
One-two. One-two.
She recognized it now. Thousands of feet marching, striking the ground at
the same time, making it tremble.
Turning around, she saw the small waterfall and pool that was in one of the gardens at the school where the Grandmothers taught young witches. Now a small willow tree grew beside it. As she watched the play of sunlight and shadow on the leaves, she noticed a pink tinge to the water falling over stone. A pink tinge that deepened into bright red. The water thickened, splashing the willow's leaves. Staining them red. Clots plopped on stone, slithered to the edge and clung there before falling into the pool that looked
so dark it was almost black, hiding the things she sensed floating just beneath the surface.
And the ground trembled.
Stumbling out of bed, Selena half fell across the other narrow bed in the room, and gave Gwynith a hard shake.
"What?" Gwynith mumbled.
"Get up," Selena said. She held a finger near the bedside candle. Fire leaped
to the wick. Satisfied, she pulled off her nightgown, rolled it into a ball, then stuffed it into her saddlebags. Cursing softly, she pulled it out again to reach the clean underclothes.
After pulling on her underclothes, she paused long enough to give Gwynith another hard shake. "Get up. Now."Gwynith raised her head off the pillow. "Still dark," she complained.
"Fine. Then I'll ride out without you. You can catch up when you can."
That roused Gwynith enough to prop herself on one elbow. "What's wrong?"
"I had a dream." Out loud, it sounded foolish, but being thought foolish wasn't going to stop her from packing, rousing the inn's landlord to provide whatever food could be hastily assembled, and riding out now.
"What kind of dream?"
Selena paused, then finished pulling her tunic over her head. "A bloody one."
Gwynith shot out of bed. "I'll tell the men we're leaving." She was out the
door and pounding on the door across the hall before Selena had time to
reply.
A murmured conversation. The other door closing with more haste than courtesy, loud enough to wake the rest of the inn's guests.
As Gwynith rushed back into their room to start her own frenzy of dressing
and packing, Selena continued stuffing her belongings into the saddlebags.
Another day of hard riding to reach the village where Skelly, the storyteller, lived. How long to reach Willowsbrook after that? Skelly would know.
Wasn't he kin to the Willowsbrook witches? Surely he'd know the fastest way from his village to that Old Place.
So. Two days at the least. She couldn't do it in less time. Fae horses had endurance far beyond ordinary horses, but even Mist-runner was wearing down after so many days of hard riding. Reaching Skelly's village was as much as she could do today.
She closed her eyes and thought of the willow tree in her dream, stained with blood.
Two days.
Would she get to Willowsbrook in time-or get there too late?
Chapter 25.
waxing moon Aiden hurried toward the Clan house, anxious to locate the Clan's bard or minstrel and find out if there was any news or messages. Once the Fae here realized the Hunter had arrived in their piece of Tir Alainn, it would take hours to get a coherent sentence out of anyone who could provide information. The Clan house would be in an uproar while people scrambled to figure out how to feed and provide beds for Ashk, her companions, and the hundred men who now rode with her.
Ashk's ultimatum to the Fae had raced ahead of her, and the Clans had offered a wary welcome when she arrived in their territory to rest for a few hours before moving on again. Among the Clans who had already been staggered by the Huntress's ultimatum, the Hunter was considered the lesser threat. At least Ashk was one of them, even if she did come from a western Clan. The new Lady of the Moon, a witch from the Mother's Hills, was so far outside their experience they didn't know what to do-except fear her and, out of fear, obey.
So the ranks of Ashk's fighting men had swelled as the Clans, anxious to prove their sincere intentions of helping drive the Black Coats out of Sylvalan, simply sent the required number of men with her. After all, the Huntress couldn't fault the Clans if the men were in the Hunter's company and obeying her orders.
Privately, Aiden suspected the Fae were hoping a conflict between the Hunter and the Huntress would end with the death of one or both of them. Regardless of the outcome, the meeting of this Hunter and Huntress would be sung by every bard and minstrel for years to come.
He couldn't honestly say he was looking forward to witnessing it. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he hurried across a courtyard-then stopped abruptly as a door opened and the last person he wanted to meet walked toward him.
"Lightbringer," Aiden said uneasily.
Lucian smiled. "Aiden! Well met!"
Wary now, Aiden approached Lucian. "That's not what you said the last time we guested at the same Clan house."
Lucian's smile faded. "I know. That was not well done on my part. I was
angry and-" He stiffened.
Hearing the quiet scuff of feet on stone, Aiden knew who now claimed the Lightbringer's attention.
Turning toward him, Lucian said softly, hurriedly, "We need to talk privately before you leave here."
"I'm not sure-"