The Pillars of the World ta-1 Page 15

  “Has your Fae Lord returned?” she asked.

  Ari blushed. “Yes, he’s been back to visit.”

  “Since he’s Fae, they must be interesting visits.”

  “Y-yes. Yes, they are. I’ll see to the mare.”

  The blushes and stammers were amusing, but the unhappiness in Ari’s eyes was too much like the troubled look she’d seen in Lucian’s for Dianna to let it go. Was the girl still fretting about the custom of gifting? If that was all, she might be able to do something about that.

  As Ari turned away, Dianna reached out and hooked a finger under the gold chain just above where it disappeared under the tunic. “Are you wearing one of his gifts? May I see it?” Before Ari could answer, Dianna ran her finger along the chain to draw the pendant out.

  It was a five-pointed star within a circle. Never having seen anything like it, Dianna was certain that this wasn’t a gift from Lucian. Why was Ari wearing this instead of one of her lover’s gifts? “What is it?”

  “It’s a pentagram,” Ari said quietly.

  Dianna felt a tremor go through the girl. She glanced at Ari’s face. The girl was almost as pale as when she’d seen the cloud dragon.

  Dianna waited.

  “It’s a witch’s symbol.”

  Dianna dropped the pendant and took a step back without being conscious of doing either of those things. “You— You’re a witch?”

  “Yes.”

  Dianna felt dizzy, but she wasn’t sure if the cause was fear or rage. “You’re one of the wiccanfae?”

  “That was an old name for us. It hasn’t been used for a long time.”

  It’s being used now, Dianna thought bitterly. But. . .

  Ari was a witch. Ari. How could this girl be one of the creatures who were destroying Tir Alainn?

  Dianna licked her lips, which were suddenly painfully dry. “You have magic.”

  “I have magic.”

  Dianna studied her opponent. Ari was no longer a blushing, stammering girl. She was a young woman wrapping herself in a cloak of quiet pride and dignity.

  “Would you like me to saddle your horse now?” Ari asked.

  She expects me to leave, expects me to run. Which means I can do neither right now. “What does it mean?” She tipped her head to indicate the pentagram.

  “The lower four points stand for the four branches of the Mother—earth, air, water, and fire. The fifth point is for the spirit.” Ari paused. “My gifts come from the branches of earth and fire.”

  “Your gifts?” Dianna said slowly.

  “My . . . magic.”

  “What can you do with it?”

  “Well, I can light a fire without using flint and steel, and I can ready the land for planting without needing a plow.”

  Dianna moved away so that she could lean against the garden wall. “If you’ll pardon me for saying it, it doesn’t sound like much.”

  A small smile curved Ari’s lips. “It is if you don’t have flint and steel handy—or own a plow.”

  True enough, but that didn’t explain what was happening to Tir Alainn. Since she was facing the cottage, Dianna frowned at the seeds she’d just planted. “Why do you plant flowers for the Lady of the Moon?”

  “Because she’s the Queen of the Witches.”

  “What?”

  “We follow the turning of the moon, and the turning of the seasons. The moon is our guide. She is always constant and ever-changing. The Mother’s wiser daughter, and our older sister.”

  I’m not that much older than you, Dianna thought crossly. “She isn’t always called the Lady of the Moon.”

  Ari nodded. “There is the other side of her. When she rides as the Huntress, she isn’t always kind. But she’s supposed to be our protector, the one we can call on for help.” Bitterness aged her face. “I don’t think she cares about protecting anything or anyone anymore.”

  The Huntress cares very much about protecting something, Dianna thought fiercely. And I will do whatever I must in order to save Tir Alainn.

  She had to get away now, had to have time to think. Either she was standing beside a dangerous enemy or someone who might, somehow, be able to help the Fae protect Tir Alainn.

  “I do need to go now. I have a ways to travel.”

  Ari’s smile was polite . . . and distant. “Yes, of course. I’ll go saddle the mare.”

  Dianna hurried into the cottage to change clothes. As she stripped out of the garments Ari had given her, she noticed the amethyst necklace again. A chill went through her, biting as deep as a winter storm.

  Did Lucian know that Ari was a witch? He couldn’t. He would have said something. He knew what was at stake. He wouldn’t have said nothing. Was he in as much danger as Tir Alainn? Why had he fixed his interest on this female? Had it really been his own choice, or was this a trap to somehow ensnare the Lightbringer? And how could she ask him without making him defensive and difficult? Surely . . . surely he wouldn’t allow lust to cloud his mind to that extent.

  In the normal way of things, no, he wouldn’t, Dianna thought as she put on her riding habit. But if he was caught in a lust over which he had no control, that could explain why he was looking so troubled lately.

  Dianna swept out of the bedroom, anxious to return to Tir Alainn. The answers the Fae were seeking could be right here—if they dared to ask the questions.

  Something’s wrong, Neall thought, urging Darcy into a canter as soon as he saw Ari. He knew her well enough to recognize, even at a distance, that she was distressed about something. And the way her face lit up when she saw him warmed his heart and made him anxious.

  Except that, now that he was closer, she didn’t look distressed. She looked like she was struggling to hold in a belly laugh that could be heard in Ridgeley.

  He couldn’t think about that right now. Darcy was gathering himself to jump the low wall—which would put the gelding and those big hooves smack in the middle of the newly planted garden. Which wouldn’t earn endearments for either of them, no matter how pleased Ari was to see him.

  Why was she so pleased?

  He reined in hard enough to warn Darcy he meant it. The gelding responded so fast he almost went over the animal’s head. Of course, Darcy was also standing right in front of Ari with his head already thrust over the wall for the petting he expected.

  My horse and I are in love with the same female, Neall thought sourly as he dismounted on legs that were a little shaky. And he doesn’t even have the balls to get excited about it, which, I suppose, is a blessing. I wonder how Ari would react to an amorous horse. Mother’s mercy.

  “Neall, I’m glad you came by,” Ari said while she petted the gelding.

  “What’s wrong?” Neall demanded, feeling testy now that he could see there was nothing wrong with Ari.

  Ari hesitated. “Behind the cottage—”

  “What? A snake? A wolf?” Royce? That mysterious lover who still had a claim on her?

  “No, a—”

  Another woman’s voice carried through the air quite clearly. “Stand still, you four-legged piece of misery!”

  Neall took a step back and watched Ari cautiously.

  “It’s a gentry lady,” Ari said.

  At least she sounds apologetic about it, Neall thought, having a good idea of what was coming next. Being related to Odella, he had enough experience with gentry ladies to know they could be the meanest creatures alive, and this one sounded riled.

  “She stopped to visit, and—”

  A pungent curse filled the air.

  “—she’s having a little trouble mounting.”

  “She rode sidesaddle? Here?”

  Her eyes dancing with laughter, Ari pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “I’d rather face a snake. A big, venomous snake. Or a wolf.”

  “That’s quite sensible of you, Neall. It would even be sensible if there were such creatures in this part of Sylvalan. But it won’t help Mistress Dianna get mounted—and she has been trying for a while n
ow. The mare’s a bit sulky about being saddled up again and apparently decided the chopping block Dianna was going to use as a mounting block was something to avoid.”

  “Why didn’t you offer to give her a leg up?”

  “I did, but she said I wasn’t strong enough to boost her into the saddle.”

  Neall snorted. The woman obviously didn’t know Ari. “And I should go back there because . . . ?”

  “You’re a man and, therefore, stronger and braver than I am,” Ari replied sweetly.

  Neall just stared at her. “You owe me for this.”

  “I’ll hold your horse.”

  “As if you’re going to convince him to move anytime soon,” he muttered, taking the longest way around the cottage that he possibly could. “If you petted me the way you pet him, I wouldn’t move either.” He hoped the day would come when she did exactly that. And come soon.

  As he rounded the corner of the cottage, he saw the mare sidle away from the chopping block at the same moment the woman tried to put her left foot in the stirrup. Since she was holding on to the saddle, the woman got pulled off the block instead of landing on her face.

  “You’re dog meat,” the woman snarled.

  Neal winced. He recognized the mare as one of Ahern’s, and knew well enough how the old man felt about anyone threatening an animal he had bred and trained. The mare wasn’t one of the special horses Ahern raised, but all of his animals were prime stock.

  The woman had her back to him so he couldn’t see her face, but he knew she wasn’t from one of the local families. And he hadn’t heard of a lady named Dianna staying with any of the gentry families in the neighborhood. If one of her acquaintances had a guest, Odella would have already paid a call in order to pass judgment on the stranger’s sense of fashion and family connections. So she probably wasn’t a gentry lady, regardless of what she had told Ari. But she had gotten a horse from Ahern, which meant the man approved of her—at least to some extent.

  “May I give you a leg up?” Neall asked.

  She whipped around to face him.

  Neall’s vision blurred. Not everything. Not everywhere. Just her face blurred, as if he were seeing two faces, one beneath the other, the same and yet slightly different.

  That used to happen to him all the time when he was a small child and his mother’s friend Ashk came to visit, but it rarely occurred after he’d come to live with Baron Felston. Well, it had happened that once, when a traveling minstrel stopped at Ridgeley and the baron had taken him and Royce to the tavern to hear the man play. And it still happened occasionally when he was at Ahern’s farm, but only when he was so tired he wasn’t thinking clearly. A crowded, smoky room or dusky light at the end of a hard day were easy explanations for a moment of blurred vision. But neither of those things explained why he was experiencing it now.

  “You’re staring at me,” the woman said. “Do you find this amusing?” Her voice held the cool arrogance any gentry lady’s would have when caught in an awkward situation, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made him sure she would hurt him badly if she was seriously provoked.

  Shivering, Neall rubbed his eyes, then blinked a couple of times. When he focused on her again, he saw an attractive stranger. He didn’t know her, and he was equally certain he’d seen her before in a different place or under different circumstances that made her now seem unfamiliar. Like a lady’s maid dressing up in one of her mistress’s old gowns and trying to pass herself off as a lady to someone who didn’t know her. Was that all this was? A lady’s maid who could pretend well enough but still didn’t get it quite right?

  “Are you amused?” Her voice had gotten colder.

  Neall shook his head to clear it, then walked over to her—and tried to shake the uneasiness that increased with every step he took toward her. Get her out of here, away from Ari, and then think it through. “My apologies, Mistress. I was dizzy for a moment. Here. Let me give you a leg up.” He bent slightly and laced his fingers to receive her foot.

  When she didn’t respond, he looked up. She was staring at him as if he, too, seemed familiar but she couldn’t quite place him.

  Finally accepting his assistance, she was mounted before the mare could decide to play any more games.

  “If you’re going to ride alone, you should ride astride,” he said, checking to make sure her foot was secure in the stirrup.

  “It isn’t ladylike,” she replied coolly.

  “Even gentry ladies are practical enough not to use a sidesaddle when they don’t have an escort to help them mount and dismount.”

  “Indeed.” She frowned a little, as if chewing over his statement.

  Not a lady’s maid, Neall decided. An upper servant would know it was acceptable for a lady to ride astride, if for no other reason than knowing different garments were worn for riding astride. And she wasn’t gentry. He was certain of that. So what, exactly, was she? And why was she in Brightwood?

  Neall stepped away from the mare. “Blessings of the day to you, Mistress.”

  He wasn’t sure why he used his mother’s—and Ari’s—usual greeting. Maybe just to see if she recognized it as a witch’s salute rather than a gentry one.

  Her light brown eyes narrowed. The look she gave him was thoughtful—and a little puzzled. She tipped her head in acknowledgment, then commanded the mare to walk on.

  He watched her, moving enough to keep her in sight while she crossed the road and rode across the fields to Ahern’s farm.

  Ashk, why does your face look blurry when you first come to our house?

  She stared at him for so long and in such a way that, for the first time, he felt afraid to be alone with her.

  “You can see through the clamor?” she asked.

  Later, he had asked his father what “clamor” meant. When told it meant “noise,” he’d puzzled for a while over why he could see through noise, then decided Ashk had been teasing him. Since it only happened when he saw her, he never mentioned it again.

  So what was it about this stranger who was interested in Ari that made him think of Ashk after so many years?

  Too edgy to sit, Dianna paced one of the smaller rooms in the Clan house until Lyrra and Aiden hurried to join her.

  “Have you seen Lucian?” she asked.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t pass each other going through the Veil,” Aiden said. “I guess he was feeling randy enough that he didn’t want to wait until sunset.”

  Dianna stopped pacing. Couldn’t move at all now. “He’s already gone? How could he just leave?”

  “He’s been doing exactly that since the Summer Moon,” Lyrra said, puzzled. She shifted her voice to a soothing tone. “I know you’ve been concerned about him becoming too . . . attached . . . to this female, but I’m sure it’s nothing more than an indulgence in carnal pleasure. Besides, it will be the dark of the moon in a few more days, and then the affair will be over.”

  “It’s what happens when it’s over that concerns me,” Dianna said.

  “Why?” Aiden asked sharply.

  Dianna took a deep breath to steady herself. “Because the woman who lives in the cottage, the woman Lucian has taken as a lover, is one of the wiccanfae. She is a witch.”

  Silence.

  Aiden shook his head and began to swear, quietly and viciously.

  “How— Are you sure, Dianna?” Lyrra asked, sinking down on the nearest bench.

  “She told me. When I was there today, I saw a pendant she wears. A pentagram. A witch’s symbol.”

  “Lucian has said nothing,” Aiden said savagely. “Nothing.”

  “I don’t think he knows,” Dianna said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better, does it?” Aiden snapped.

  “Why would the wiccanfae want to hurt us?” Lyrra asked.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to hurt a lover who had tired of you?” Aiden said so bitterly Dianna and Lyrra stared at him. “What better way to hurt a Fae lover than to destroy a piece of Tir
Alainn and all the Fae within it.”

  “We don’t know the Clans who are lost have been destroyed,” Lyrra protested.

  “We don’t know anything about them. There’s no word from them, no way to reach them.” Aiden paced the room. “There are enough Fae males who indulge themselves in the human world, and if a pendant is the only way to distinguish a witch from any other human female, they wouldn’t have known the difference. What if what’s happening to Tir Alainn is nothing more than the vengeance of spurned lovers?”

  “That’s enough,” Dianna said firmly. “The only thing we know about the witches is what is being sung or told in stories.”

  “And none of that is good,” Aiden said.

  “I recall that you found those songs so offensive you used your gift as the Bard to strip away the musical skills of anyone who played them.”

  Aiden glared at her but kept silent.

  “I agree that the witches might have a kind of magic that could close a road through the Veil, and they may be the reason Tir Alainn is in danger.” Dianna sat on the bench beside Lyrra, but kept her eyes on Aiden. “We’ve lost more Clans since the Summer Moon, and we’re no closer to finding out why. Now we have a chance to get some answers.”

  “From a witch?” Lyrra asked, sounding skeptical.

  “Yes, from a witch,” Dianna replied, ignoring Aiden’s succinct comments. “She’s alone and she’s young . . . and I think she’s lonely. If we were to befriend her, she would have no reason to harm us, and might even be willing to help us.”

  “If we befriend her and then discover she is a danger to Tir Alainn, what do we do then, Huntress?” Aiden said.

  Dianna felt her throat tighten. She knew what Aiden expected her to say. She knew what she had to say, what she would have said without a second thought even a day ago . . . before she had been told she was called the Queen of the Witches and was considered their protector.

  It makes no difference. It can’t.

  “If she is a danger to us,” Dianna said quietly, “then the Huntress will take care of it—and she won’t be a danger anymore.”

  Chapter Fourteen