The Pillars Of The World (20 page)

”

Alarmed, Morphia looked around the garden. “You’re wrong, Morag,” she said after a minute. “It looks exactly as it is.”

Morag shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. The edges are becoming smudged, hazy.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Morag said. “You’ve been here for a while now. You see what you expect to see. You don’t have any reason to look closely. Neither does anyone else who lives here. But it’s been some time since I’ve been in Tir Alainn, and I’ve never visited this Clan before, so I look with no expectations of what I should see.”

“This is foolish talk,” Morphia snapped.

“Is it? How many years has it been since anyone has heard from
any
of the Clans who had used the shining roads in Arktos and Wolfram? Now the roads to Sylvalan are closing too. What if this is the warning, Morphia? What if this is how it starts?”

Morphia shook her head. “The matriarchs say it’s the Clans that mingle too much in the human world who have disappeared, that they brought something back with them that weakened the magic and that’s why the roads closed and they were cut off from the rest of Tir Alainn.” She huffed. “You’re tired, Morag. You’ve been too long in the human world. That’s why you’re talking this way.”

Perhaps. But there’s a storm coining. I can feel it. Death is waiting
. “Do you know where the Bard is residing now?”

Still troubled, and a little angry, Morphia said warily, “I heard he’s staying with the Huntress’s Clan.”

“That’s to the south, along the coast, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Morphia hesitated. “That’s also the Lightbringer’s Clan.”

Even the Huntress and the Lightbringer wouldn’t dare dismiss the Gatherer. After all, the day will
come when I’ll extend my hand to them.

“You’re going there, aren’t you?” Morphia asked.

“Yes, I’m going there. To talk to them and the Bard.”

“You’re tired, Morag,” Morphia said quietly, worriedly. “Won’t you stay a few days more and rest?”

A shiver of something she didn’t want to name brushed down Morag’s spine as a shadow fell across her sister’s face. It was a shadow she knew well. It wasn’t so dark that it was a certainty, but it was a warning that couldn’t be ignored.

“Yes, I’ll stay a few more days.”

Morphia squeezed her sister’s arm. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”

Nothing and no one could compel her to leave while she saw that shadow on Morphia’s face. Perhaps by being here she could prevent the warning from becoming a certainty. So she would stay. But she doubted she would find any rest.

Morphia said, “If you’d like, we can find Cullan and talk to him. I think he’s listened to more of the travelers’ tales than the others did. He might be able to tell you something.”

“Thank you,” Morag said. She would listen to whatever Cullan had to tell her, but she was becoming more and more certain that the answers the Fae needed most would not be found in Tir Alainn.

Ari sat on the bench beside the kitchen door, her back resting against the cottage wall, a cup of tea cooling beside her. Birds fluttered a few feet away, snatching small pieces of bread she had tossed out to them, then flying back to their nests.

She would have to bake today. The garden needed watering. The bed linens needed to be changed, and washing needed to be done. There was no wind this morning, no breeze coming up from the sea to soften the heat she could already feel against her skin. Best to get the chores done early. Especially today.

She sat on the bench, drinking her tea and watching the birds.

There would be no child. She hadn’t wanted one, had hoped she would be spared. Still, the intensity of her relief when she discovered her bleeding time had come had surprised her. Perhaps if her mother and grandmother were still alive, she would have welcomed a child by Lucian. He made her body weak with hunger for the pleasure she knew would come when he touched her, made it sizzle with need while he prepared her for the mounting. Wasn’t that how a woman
should
feel when she took a lover’s seed and transformed it into life? And where would a woman find a more splendid sire for her child than the Lightbringer?

And yet, she was relieved his seed hadn’t taken root. Lucian was a wonderful lover, but . . .

“When that fire doesn’t burn, it gives no warmth,” she told a bold sparrow that had fluttered up to the bench, looking for more bread. “The only time he spends with me outside of bed is when I put out something to eat. He’s polite. I’ll grant him that. He asked about the garden, about the weaving he’s seen on the looms, but he’s only listening enough not to be caught out. He’s not really interested in my life, and he never talks about his own. If there’s any truth to the stories, he lives in a Clan with other Fae. But he doesn’t mention them, either. The only part of his life he wants me to know about is the part I can wrap my hand around.”

Ari sipped her tea. The sparrow, giving up, flew off to find its breakfast elsewhere.

“He gives me trinkets instead of any part of himself. Expensive trinkets, but they don’t mean anything to him, which is why he gives them. Perhaps that’s all Fae males ever give females who aren’t of their kind.

Or, perhaps, that’s all they’re capable of giving anyone.”

Swallowing the rest of her tea, she got up to take care of the chores.

As she worked throughout the morning, two thoughts chased each other: How did women tell men about the bleeding time . . . and would Lucian be willing to spend time with her, just to be with her, now that he couldn’t have the bed?

Not one of my better times
, Ari thought later that afternoon while she sat on the bench and brushed her hair, which was still damp from the cool bath she’d taken. Every chore had taken her twice as long as usual; the heat had sapped her energy until she wanted to weep from fatigue, and even the special herb tea she’d made hadn’t dulled the ache in her belly. On top of that, she had a fierce craving for meat, and dinner, was going to be vegetable soup and bread. No, it wasn’t one of her better days.

And here was Lucian riding out of the woods, and she still had no idea how women told a lover about private female things.

Her heart beat a little quicker as he approached, but her body didn’t quicken in anticipation of being under him. Still, she made an effort to smile in order to cover her nerves and rose to meet him as he reined the horse in and quickly dismounted.

“Is he a friend?” she asked, nodding toward the horse.

Her question stopped him in mid-stride. “A friend?” he asked, puzzled. Then he looked at the horse and laughed. “No, he’s just a horse. He needed some exercise.”

As he reached for her, she took a small step back. “Lucian—”

“Later.”

His arms were around her and he was kissing her in that deep, hungry way that usually made it impossible for her to think of anything but him. This time, his tongue felt cold and alien instead of pleasant, and the hands roaming over her body felt selfish and greedy instead of exciting.

Gripping his arms, she pushed at him, breaking the kiss. “Lucian, stop.”

“Why?” He pulled her against him, roughly.

She turned her head to evade the next kiss. “No!”

His hands clamped on her waist tightly enough to hurt her. “Why not?”

What burned in his gray eyes was anger, not passion.

“I can’t today.” For the first time since she’d met him, he reminded her of Royce—a man who was only interested in what
he
wanted.

“Why not?” Lucian demanded.

“I—” Feeling her face heat, Ari pressed her lips together. “I don’t know how to say this without being indelicate. I’ve never had to expla—”

“Just say it,” he snapped.

There was a dangerous, feral quality to his voice that made her afraid. Would he actually demand the use of her body even after she’d indicated she wasn’t willing? And if he did and
then
discovered . . .

“It’s my bleeding time,” she blurted out.

He went still. Then, releasing her, he stepped back.

Hugging herself, Ari watched him, no longer trusting what he might do next.

“I see,” Lucian said quietly, his voice betraying nothing of what he might be feeling.

Stinging as much from the sudden absence of emotion as from his unexpected anger, Ari mumbled, “It started this morning.”

“I see,” he said again.

Was that disappointment she saw in his face? Maybe . . . “There’s vegetable soup and fresh bread. You’

re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I thank you, but no. I don’t wish to intrude upon you at such a time.”

He cleared his throat quietly. “I apologize if my behavior distressed you in any way.”

“Lucian . . .” In two days it would be the dark of the moon. The promise she had made on the Summer Moon would have been fulfilled then anyway. What was she supposed to say to him? That she had enjoyed knowing him? That she hoped he would visit again sometime? One sounded dismissive, and the other sounded like an invitation for more than she intended.
Would
she have welcomed him again as a lover? An hour ago, she would have said yes. Now she wasn’t so sure.

She flinched when she saw him reach into his pocket. Another trinket. A Fae custom and obligation once again fulfilled. Well, she hadn’t earned this one, had she?

When he lifted his hand from his pocket, it was empty. Resting his palm against her cheek, he leaned forward and gently kissed her. There was no emotion in that, either.

“Be well, Ari,” he said softly.

“The Mother’s blessings be with you, Lucian.”

Turning away, he mounted the horse and galloped across the meadow, never looking back as he disappeared into the woods.

She went to her room and stared at her bed. Done then. He had come for the carnal pleasure she had been obliged to give him, and he had found nothing more to interest him.

He’s a Fae Lord. What else is there here that would interest him? But it doesn’t seem fair that he
can leave without a backward glance, and yet he managed to tug on my heart enough to leave it
bruised. I care about him. He never shared anything with me except his body, but there was
something about him that made me care. It isn’t fair.

Stretching out on her bed, on clean linens that carried no scent of him, she began to cry.

Leaning against the stone wall, Lucian looked up at the canopy of leaves that spread above his favorite, private place in the Clan gardens.

It was over, and he hadn’t been ready to see it end. In two days, the promised time would have ended, but he’d thought he’d have these last two days to be with her, to sink into pleasure with her. He thought he’d have that time to delicately persuade her to continue being his lover—despite what Aiden had told him that morning.

And then he’d spoiled all of it by not paying attention to her mood. No, that wasn’t true. He’d known there was something on her mind. He’d seen it in her face. He hadn’t wanted to hear it, and hoped that whatever it was would go away if he could cloud her mind with sex. He’d misjudged, badly.

Fae women cloistered during the bleeding time, preferring rest and quiet and privacy in order to tend to things that were not a man’s business. Fae men respected that desire for privacy and stepped back so as not to intrude. That was the way it was done, so he had done the proper thing by retreating.

But she
had
invited him to stay—and he almost had. He had no idea if she truly would have welcomed his company or if the invitation had been made out of an obligation to give him time and his presence would have made her uncomfortable. That, as well as custom, was what made him leave.

He didn’t know her customs. It hadn’t seemed important to ask about them. But that was when he’d thought she was a human female who was just a little more appealing than most of her kind. That was before Aiden told him this morning about the symbol the wiccanfae wore.

He’d never asked her about the pendant she always wore. He’d been annoyed that she preferred it over the gifts he’d given her, but he’d never asked if it had meaning. Another misjudgment.

Even knowing she was a witch, and possibly a danger to Tir Alainn, he had gone to be her lover.

He’d given her no parting gift. What he’d brought wasn’t sufficient for a parting gift. He’d said none of the pretty words that were supposed to be said. With passion and apprehension warring inside him, he’d felt oddly threatened because she suddenly wasn’t interested in him as a lover. He’d let that war of feelings burn through him as anger, and he’d let that anger show. Another mistake. He’d made a lot of them this afternoon.

But it wasn’t supposed to end today. He hadn’t been ready.

And now he had to wonder if, by his clumsiness, he had made an enemy who could harm his Clan and Tir Alainn.

Dianna’s smile of greeting faltered when Lyrra took her arm and hurried her out to the terrace, away from where the other Fae were gathering for the evening meal.

“Aiden just told me that Lucian is back.” Dianna frowned at Lyrra. “What do you mean, he’s back? He hasn’t come back once before dawn since—” Her throat tightened.

“I know,” Lyrra said, keeping her voice low. “But he’s back, and he went to that wild spot he likes to go to whenever he’s brooding about something.”

Mother’s mercy. “Did he say anything to Aiden?”

Lyrra shook her head. “Aiden did tell him about the pendant this morning. If Lucian’s seen it, he knows Ari is a witch. Maybe, knowing that, he changed his mind and just came back.”

Or something might have gone very wrong
, Dianna thought.
He isn’t foolish. He wouldn’t have
confronted her about being wiccanfae when we have no idea what kind of threat she might be. Or
even if she
is
a threat
. “It might be nothing. She might have been called away.”

“To do what?”

They looked at each other, neither one wanting to answer that question.