by Anne Bishop
Shivering from exhaustion as much as the chill in the air, Selena slowly grounded the power that held the circle in the clearing. The standing water poured out, spreading itself through the woods.
She walked back to Mistrunner, wondering if she had the strength left to mount—and wondering if he would be able to find his way back to Ella's house.
As she rested her forehead against his neck, someone said hesitantly, "Huntress?"
She looked up and saw the woman standing nearby, watching her anxiously. She said nothing. She simply waited.
The woman came forward slowly, then went down on one knee. "I, Gwynith, here and now pledge my loyalty and service to you, Selena, the Lady of the Moon . . . and the Huntress."
Since she didn't know the correct response to this part of the ritual, Selena said nothing.
Gwynith looked at her. "Do you accept?"
"I accept."
A look of relief that was almost brutal to see filled Gwynith's face. She rose and stepped aside.
Her four companions immediately stepped forward and made the same pledge of loyalty and service. The rest of the women came forward more slowly, more warily, but they made the same pledge. While they did, Selena noticed the intense, whispered conversation between Gwynith, her companions, and some of the men who were with them.
When the last woman stepped aside, one man came forward. "Huntress . . . Lady Dianna is badly hurt and needs a healer to look at that arm as soon as it can be done."
Dianna. So that was the name of the woman who had denied her right to be the Lady of the Moon after the power had already accepted her as such.
"It is your right to deny her access to any Clan territory where you are present, especially after . . . after she shamed her Clan by acting as she did."
"Is there a healer in the Clan who is connected to this Old Place?" Selena asked.
"There is, Huntress."
"Then take her there to get the care she needs."
He bowed. "Thank you. She will not disturb you while she is there." He hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "It is within your right to strip her of her gift. But, Lady, there is no witch in the Old Place that anchors our Clan's piece of Tir Alainn. There hasn't been since the Black Coats came and she was . . . lost. We don't know why it is so, but Dianna's gift can anchor the Old Place's magic and hold our piece of Tir Alainn. Without her gift . . ."
They don't know why it is so. Mother's mercy. "I have no wish to harm your Clan. I will not take what your people need."
"We are grateful for your mercy, Huntress." He started to turn away, then turned back. "Tonight was the first time Dianna acknowledged that witches were the House of Gaian. Up until tonight, she has denied there was any connection."
Selena stared at him, puzzled. "We have always been the House of Gaian. Why would she deny it?"
He gave her an odd look, started to say something, then changed his mind and hurried back to the other men kneeling beside Dianna, who was still on the ground.
She saw Gwynith approach her at the same time three men stepped up.
"We"—one of the men gestured to the other two—"are bards from different Clans. We are here as witnesses . . . and to send the news out to the rest of the Clans. May we ask, Lady Selena, what Clan you are from?"
"That can wait," Gwynith said firmly. "The Lady is wet and tired and needs dry clothes and warm food. Your questions can wait until we're back in Tir Alainn and she has been looked after properly."
Gwynith sounded so much like Rhyann, Selena had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "I think I have the strength to answer one question." Before Gwynith could protest, Selena turned back to the bards. "I don't come from a Clan."
The bards' spokesman looked puzzled. "Then . . . where do you come from?"
"I come from the Mother's Hills."
Instant silence as even Gwynith stared at her. She could hear the raindrops dripping from the leaves of the nearby trees.
"Mother's mercy," the bard whispered.
She didn't want to terrify these people any more than she'd already done, but they needed to understand how much her presence among them, and her power over them, was going to change their lives. She said gently, "I think you will find, good bard, that if the wrath of the House of Gaian looks in your direction, the Mother will have no mercy."
All three men glanced up at the clear night sky and turned deathly pale.
"Enough," Gwynith said.
"In a moment," Selena said. "Now I have a question. Do you know the Bard?"
The bards' spokesman nodded warily.
"Do you know where to find him?"
The man looked even more wary. "Not at present, Lady. He is. . . traveling. But we could send a message through the Clans," he added hurriedly.
"Then tell the Bard that the new Lady of the Moon would like to speak with him, if he would so oblige me."
"We'll send the message, Lady." They moved away, hurrying toward their horses.
Selena looked at Gwynith. "It is not that I don't appreciate your assistance, but I'm wondering why you're offering it so freely."
"Two reasons," Gwynith replied after a long pause. "First, I have pledged my loyalty and service to you, and I think you are not familiar with Tir Alainn or riding the shining roads."
"I have no experience with either."
"You have no reason to trust any of us, but I swear to you I will do nothing that would harm you in any way. I—I can't say with any certainty that will be true of the others here tonight. . . or other Fae who weren't here tonight."
"Understood. Your second reason?"
Gwynith hesitated, obviously struggling with how to say enough without saying too much. "Lady Ashk did not approve of Dianna and the way she was leading the Fae. But I think. . . I think Lady Ashk would approve of you."
And that's very important to you, isn't it? "Who is Lady Ashk?"
"She's the Lady of the Woods at Bretonwood, a Clan in the west."
Lady of the Woods.
A shiver went through Selena. The woods coming alive. Coming toward her. "What is her other form?"
Gwynith gave her an odd, searching look. "She is like you, Huntress. She is a shadow hound."
Two shadow hound bitches racing through the woods, racing through the moonlight, united against a common enemy.
"How far away is Bretonwood?" Selena asked, feeling lightheaded.
"It's— Well, she isn't there right now. She's traveling east to a place called Willowsbrook." Gwynith touched Selena's arm. "Lady, please. Let's get some food and get warm. Then we can talk about whatever you wish."
Selena nodded. A few minutes later she was riding beside Gwynith, the escorts who had come with Gwynith riding ahead and behind them, followed by Gwynith's four companions with their escorts.
As they reached the clearing that held the shining road that led to Tir Alainn, Selena said, "I think I'd like to meet Lady Ashk."
Gwynith replied softly, "I know she'll want to meet you."
Chapter 11
new moon
As night gave way to dawn, Breanna watched the storm swiftly coming toward them over the Mother's Hills. She rose from the bench beside the kitchen door and stretched her stiff muscles, listening for any sound that didn't belong. When the sun went down yesterday, she and Gwenn had spent an hour arguing with Liam and Donovan about needing to be outside in order to receive whatever message might come through the Great Mother's branches. Neither she nor Gwenn had been able to explain well enough that the message wasn't carried on the elements, it was in the elements—something felt on the skin, breathed into the body, tasted. They had to be outside to read it properly.
An open kitchen door and the bench beside it were as much of a compromise as either man—and Falco—was willing to make, since there were still nighthunters in the Old Place. They hadn't seen any of the creatures, but they had found more rotting, half-eaten animals beneath dead trees. So the men led the animals to pastures in the morning and led them back
to the small pasture near the stables every evening, the children were confined to the house once the sun set, and some of her kin, armed with bows and crossbows, kept watch each night—and she and Gwenn had had to promise they wouldn't step more than a few paces away from the house until the sun rose.
Hearing quiet sounds in the kitchen, she turned toward the door. Liam stepped out, rubbing his neck.
"Gwenn's put the kettle on for tea and is muttering about toasting some bread," he said quietly. He leaned toward her and added, "I gathered she doesn't greet the morning cheerfully under any circumstances."
"Did you get any sleep?" Breanna asked, studying him. "You look a bit rumpled." Which wasn't surprising since he'd kept watch with her until after midnight, when Falco took his place.
"A couple of hours," Liam replied, still rubbing his neck. "Which is more than you got, unless you dozed off out here. And since you so kindly pointed out my rumpledness, I'll point out that you're looking a bit disheveled yourself."
Breanna looked away, hoping the dawn light was still pale enough to hide her blush. Sleep had been the last thing on her mind while Falco was keeping watch with her. But she didn't think her older-brother-the-baron wanted to know that.
She ran her fingers up between her breasts, checking to make sure she'd retied the tunic laces Falco had untied last night.
"Where is Falco?" Liam asked.
Breanna jolted and tried not to look guilty. There was no reason to feel guilty. She was a grown woman and could take a lover if she chose to. Why shouldn't it be Falco? Until she'd gotten to know him, she hadn't met a man who made her feel ripe and . . . juicy. The feel of his hands as he caressed her breasts and the way his mouth—
"Breanna?"
"Hmm?"
"Falco?"
"Mmm, yes."
"Where. Is. He?"
Mother's tits! Her mind had drifted, and now Liam was giving her that narrow-eyed brotherly stare.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" Liam asked.
She really didn't think so. "About what?"
"About Falco."
"He went over to the stables to check on the men standing watch. Storm's coming," she added, changing the subject.
"Maybe more than one," Liam replied not quite cryptically enough.
Breanna crossed her arms over her chest. Gran wasn't making a fuss about Falco's interest. Why should Liam?
The thought of her grandmother brought other uneasy thoughts. "Liam?"
He was watching the storm. "Hmm?"
"Do you think Gran's becoming ill?"
That got his full attention. "Why do you ask?"
Breanna shrugged. "Fiona said Gran didn't eat much at dinner last night and she went to bed shortly after we came back here."
"She was tired. That's all."
"She's never tired."
Liam walked over to her, put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. "This has been a trying time for her, Breanna. So many people looking to her to make wise decisions, so much uncertainty about what's going to happen. I'm not surprised she's tired. Even my mother dozed off last night while we were still talking, and she's a generation younger than Nuala. Don't worry over something a good night's sleep will set right."
She and Liam turned as a boot scuffed the kitchen threshold.
"Here," Donovan said as he walked toward them, balancing two plates of buttered toast and two cups of tea. "Tuck into that. It will take a while for us all to get a proper breakfast."
"I see Gwenn is teaching you how to make yourself useful," Liam said. He released Breanna in order to take the plate and mug that Donovan held out to him.
Donovan just snorted.
"Does your staff make a fuss over Gwenn knowing her way around the kitchen?" Breanna asked, thinking about how their housekeeper, Glynis, was always arguing with her about what was and wasn't proper work for a lady.
Donovan grinned. "The first time Gwenn wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, they were appalled. My cook, housekeeper, and butler cornered me and told me I simply had to explain to my lady wife that gentry ladies didn't do that."
Breanna leaned forward. "What did you say?"
"I told them I'd just married her. If they wanted her out of the kitchen, they could explain it to her."
"So what happened?" Breanna said when it didn't seem like Donovan was going to say anything else.
"She still wanders down to the kitchen to make her own tea when it suits her, so what do you think happened?"
Gwenn came out of the kitchen with two more plates and mugs, so Breanna held her tongue and ate her toast while she watched the storm come in.
"It's moving fast," Gwenn said.
Breanna just nodded. The edge of the storm was in the Old Place now. She watched the lightning, heard the thunder. As the first breath of wind flying before the storm reached her, she shivered. "It must go from one end of the Mother's Hills to the other."
"If it's still this strong, it must have been a mean bitch of a storm wherever it started," Gwenn said.
Breanna noticed the way Donovan frowned at his wife's choice of words, but she wasn't sure if he disapproved of the language or if he was considering what it might mean for Gwenn to refer to a storm in that way.
She set her mug and plate on the ground and stepped forward. Gwenn did the same thing before looking back at Donovan. "You should go inside. You'll get wet out here."
"Will you go inside?" Donovan asked.
Gwenn shook her head. "The storm is out here. The message is out here."
"Then I'm staying."
Breanna glanced at Liam, saw the stubborn look in his eyes, and didn't waste the effort to persuade him to do what they both knew he wouldn't do. Besides, the storm required her attention now.
She watched the wall of rain come toward her, tasted it on the wind. Tasted the power still entwined with it. She shivered. "This wasn't a natural storm."
"No, it wasn't," Gwenn agreed.
"What do you mean it wasn't natural?" Liam said.
Breanna half turned toward him. "It didn't form on its own. Someone created it—and released it."
"Mother's mercy," Donovan whispered.
"It wasn't formed in the Mother's Hills," Gwenn said thoughtfully. "Somewhere in the midlands, I think."
"Why would someone do that?" Donovan said, his voice sharp and worried.
Neither woman answered him. They stepped forward together as the rain came across the lawn and finally reached them.
A message written on water, whispered on the wind.
This wasn't a whisper. Despite how far the storm had traveled, she could still taste the anger that had summoned that wind and sent it flying.
Yes, something had definitely changed.
She watched Gwenn cup her hands and sip the rain that collected there. And she watched Gwenn turn pale.
"Do you have what you need?" Breanna asked.
Gwenn nodded.
Breanna walked to the center of the lawn and began to dance, channeling the wind through her body and sending it back to shred the clouds, spreading them out even further. A hand clasped hers . . . and Gwenn circled with her, taking in the strength from water and sending it out again to hold back some of the rain.
As they broke apart, Fiona stepped forward to join them.
Breanna felt the power in the dance, felt the way Fiona's presence kept grounding that power in the branch of earth, spreading it through the land.
Acknowledging, celebrating, taming. Isn't that what Fiona said she and Jenny had done once before?
When the last cloud passed over them, she stopped the dance. All three women were soaked to the skin and shivering from exhaustion.
As she pushed her wet hair away from her face, she noticed Liam and Donovan standing side by side, their expressions watchful. . . and a little wary. Standing near them were Clay, Rory, and Falco, their expressions equally watchful, equally wary.
We are what we are, Breanna
thought wearily as she walked back to the house.
When they reached the men, Donovan slipped an arm around Gwenn's waist to lead her the rest of the way to the house. Rory and Clay took Fiona's arms to support her.
Liam put his arm around her shoulders, and said tightly, "You're going to get dry and go to bed before you get some kind of lung fever."
"It's summer," she muttered. "It's warm." But now that the dance was done, her muscles wouldn't stop shaking.
Nuala stood in the kitchen doorway, a shawl around her shoulders. She stepped back as Donovan led Gwenn inside and pointed to the large kitchen table. "The kettle's boiled. Let her sit there for a minute and have something hot to drink." She raised her hand, cutting off Donovan's protest before he could say the first word.
Liam, Clay, and Rory didn't argue. They pulled out chairs for Breanna and Fiona, then stood back while Nuala took a seat and Glynis set hot mugs of tea in front of the women.
Breanna felt a pang of regret when she saw the way Falco hurried through the kitchen without saying anything to her. She felt puzzled confusion when he returned with three blankets. He gave one to Donovan, another to Clay, and wrapped the third one around her, his hands resting on her shoulders for a moment in a way that was as comforting as Liam's arm had been.
"Now," Nuala said quietly. "What was the message?"
Breanna looked at Gwenn, who nodded to indicate Breanna should go first. "Something definitely changed. Something that, I think, preceded the storm. Something that will change things for all of us—witches, humans, the Small Folk."
"The Fae, too?" Falco asked quietly.
Breanna thought about the feel of the wind and nodded. "Yes, the Fae, too. But I can't tell you more than that."
"I can," Gwenn said. She shivered. "I told you I'd studied in the Mother's Hills a few years ago and met some of the other witches who were being trained by the Crones. I think . . . I think this was Selena. It's hard to tell. There's been so many who have touched that storm, but at the core of it, I think it was Selena. Her power had a different feel to it because"—She hesitated, then looked at Falco—"Because Selena is a very powerful witch, but she's also Fae."
