As he lowered her to the ground and her vision dimmed, the look on his face made her very afraid.
He looked back at the bundles in his cart, then grinned as he slapped the reins over the horse's back. He'd done it! Succeeded beyond expectation. He'd no longer have to work at the charity house where he'd grown up, receiving nothing more than lodgings and a few copper coins each month. When he returned to Master Adolfo's camp, he'd receive the promised reward of an apprenticeship. He'd be trained to be an Inquisitor, a man of power, a man who was somebody.
Never again would the squire who was his grandfather look past him if they saw each other in the village. Never again would he have to pretend he didn't recognize his mother when he saw her shopping with her proper children. Never again would he lie awake at night remembering the arguments between his mother and grandfather before he'd been taken to the charity house.
My son's father is a Fae Lord!
Convenient to say that, daughter, when no man is here to say yay or nae.
He went back to Tir Alainn!
And hasn't made even a token effort to provide for his child? No, daughter.
No. I never asked who fathered the boy, and I won't ask now. But you have a chance to marry, and no gentry man is going to want to raise his own sons with a groom's or footman's leavings.
A Fae Lord!
Enough! You can cut yourself off from a good life for yourself, and condemn the boy into the bargain, or you can let him go now while he's still young
enough to forget and let him make a life for himself. Make your choice, daughter-and live with it.She made her choice. And the squire made his choice. But the boy had been old enough to remember, and grieve, the life that had ended when the squire's servants left him at the charity house. And the boy had felt the weight of being a nobody for years-until Master Adolfo had stopped and visited the charity house. Had stopped even though he had an army to command and important work to do in the world.
Master Adolfo had known the boy was special. He'd given the boy a chance to prove he was worthy of the training that would make him a powerful man one day-a man so powerful that even the old squire wouldn't dare ignore him.
And he'd succeeded. Almost within sight of the enemy, he'd succeeded. The Inquisitors had given him the horse and a cart filled with small sacks of flour, sugar, and tea. They'd told him to take the supplies to the more isolated farms and offer them to the females as thanks for the other provisions the army was taking from the surrounding farms.
The females had accepted the supplies with delight, had offered him small glasses of ale and fresh-baked bread. They had given him time to be eyes and ears for the Witch's Hammer. And they had given him time to obtain the special creatures Master Adolfo needed for the coming fight.
The Master had been specific. Find one or two of the special creatures, then get back to the army that was marching toward Willowsbrook. Take no chances, because discovery could destroy everything.
He'd been careful, but he'd had a rough minute or two when he spotted the female. Luckily she'd suspected nothing, had seen nothing. So now he was heading back toward the army that was no more than two or three days'
march away from this place. He was returning in triumph.
Not only had he gotten the special creatures the Master Inquisitor wanted, he'd gotten something Master Adolfo wanted even more.
A witch.
Aiden tied the sash around his waist, then tugged at the hem of his dress tunic to make sure it still hung straight. He looked at his harp, rubbed his thumbs over the pads of his still-tender fingers, and shook his head. It would have to be one of his pipes tonight.
"Maybe it's for the best."
Turning, he studied Lyrra's reflection in the mirror. She, too, had worn her best outfit, and she'd left her hair loose so that it flowed down her back. Her eyes were puffy from the tears she'd shed, but it only made her look more
beautiful-the Muse who not only touched the world but was touched by it.
"What's for the best?"
"That Nuala died now."
Aiden frowned. "How can you say that?"
Lyrra turned to face him. "She went to sleep and never woke up. Isn't that
better than dying slowly from a mortal wound, or feeling an arrow bury itself in flesh? She won't know the fear and pain, she won't watch anyone she loves suffer. She won't know what happens here if... we fail."
He walked over to her, drew her into his arms. "We won't fail. What has
gathered here is more than I'd dared hope for. The Fae have come down from Tir Alainn, the House of Gaian has come out of their hills, and the humans are standing with us. Even the Small Folk are preparing to fight.
This battle won't be shining and glorious. It will be desperate and brutal...
and people will die. Neither of us can be of any use on that battlefield when the time comes, but we have the power of words, Lyrra. We can sing the songs that feed the heart, tell the stories that offer comfort. And later, we can sing of the glory of courage and tell stories about how all the peoples of Sylvalan stood together to face a common enemy. We need to remember that we stood together- and we'll need to honor the dead." He drew back enough to kiss her forehead. "And that's what we need to do now."
He released her long enough to fetch his pipe, then slipped an arm around
her waist to lead her out of the room.
Liam waited for them in the front hall, along with Baron Donovan; his wife, Gwenn; and Gwynith, a western Lady of the Moon. They went out to the open carriage that was big enough for all of them since Liam was driving and invited Aiden to join him on the driver's seat.
"Selena, Rhyann, and Ashk have already gone to the place Breanna and Keely chose," Liam said quietly after flicking the reins over his team's back to signal them to move on. "My mother has gone to the Old Place to drop off some dishes for the supper afterward. We've still got a few hours left before full dark, but I doubt anyone will want to linger after paying their respects."
"Where is the place where Nuala will be laid to rest?" Aiden asked.
"Near the brook. There's a place that has a 'sitting stone' and a curve of rose bushes close by that Nuala had planted years ago. She liked to sit there and listen to the water." Liam sighed. "We would have given Nuala back to the
Great Mother wherever Breanna chose, but I know Ashk is relieved that it's open ground, and, frankly, so am I."
Aiden nodded. "No chance of nighthunters attacking before they can be
seen."
"Yes."
They made the rest of the trip in silence until they crossed the bridge over
Willow's Brook and saw all the conveyances lined up beside the road.
"I didn't expect so many humans to come here," Aiden said.
"My father made certain I remained ignorant of the witches who lived here,"
Liam replied with a trace of bitterness. "But I've learned since that my ignorance wasn't common. Nuala was a fine woman. She was respected by
her neighbors, which is more than I can say about my father." He secured the reins and got down, then nodded to the boy who came forward to lead the carriage away as soon as the others had stepped down.
Taking Lyrra's hand, Aiden followed Liam to the spot where the mourners gathered. People stepped aside to let them through, and Aiden wondered if there had ever been a time before this when barons had stood side by side with farmers and Fae Lords, oblivious of the differences that separated them in the day-to-day world.
Nuala lay on the grass, dressed in a blue gown. No coffin, no shroud.
Nothing between her and the earth.
For a long moment, Aiden stared at the gold pentagram around her neck, then glanced around. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember seeing Breanna or Nuala or any of the other witches wearing the pentagram openly. Even Selena hadn't worn hers openly. But the witches were wearing them now, and as he looked around, he felt a jolt when he saw men-strangers to him-wearing that symbol over shirts or tunics.
"I didn't know there were men who were witches," Lyrra whispered to
Rhyann, who had come over to stand beside them.
Rhyann smiled. "They are the Sons of the House of Gaian. They have the same power that comes from the branches of the Great Mother that the Daughters do. Why wouldn't they wear the symbol that acknowledges the bond to the Mother?"
"You don't usually wear it openly," Aiden said.
Rhyann looked puzzled. "Why would we? We don't wear it to remind
anyone but ourselves of who and what we are and what we honor. Earth, air, water, fire"-she looked at Nuala-"and spirit."
Seeing two Fae with instruments at the edge of the crowd, Aiden excused
himself and made his way over to the minstrels. One carried a small harp;
the other had a pipe.
"We've never seen a burial for one of the Mother's Daughters," one of the minstrels said. "What should we do?"
Aiden smiled dryly. "We'll play it by ear."
The quiet conversations around him faded.
Selena, all in white, wore the split gown over trousers. She moved away
from the others until she stood alone, facing Nuala, and turned to look at Gwynith. "Will you dance with me this time?"