by Anne Bishop
Opening a drawer in her dressing table, she took out her grandmother’s jewelry box. “Gran used to wear a garnet pin to stand for fire. That would—” She opened the box, frowned at the contents. Lucian’s gifts were on top of the bits of jewelry the women in her family had collected over generations.
She took out a ruby pendant, held it up to the light.
“On this day, we give thanks to the Lightbringer, the Lord of the Sun, for the season of light and the warmth of that makes all things grow.”
She didn’t think she would be able to say those words this time. It had been different when he’d been nameless, faceless. When it had seemed that he did, indeed, hold the power of the sun in his grasp. When she’d thought he was a little different from the rest of the Fae, who seemed to use their gifts only when there was something in it for them. But he really wasn’t different from the rest of them. In fact, he had much in common with the gentry men of her own world— except that he could turn into a horse.
No, it was the Mother who changed the seasons and made things grow. The Lightbringer might be one of Her most powerful servants, but he was no less a servant than the rest of them—and he didn’t even acknowledge that much.
Do you ever give anything you value, Lucian? Do you ever give when the giving would inconvenience you?
It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t do. The pledge she’d made to him had been fulfilled. And there was Neall to think about now, Neall who was patiently waiting for an answer. But there was one way she could honor the Lightbringer and what he stood for.
She put on the ruby pendant. It nestled above the pentagram as if it belonged there.
It was the first time she had worn any of the jewelry he had given her. Since he was who he was, the pendant was a fitting choice to stand for fire.
Dianna wasn’t sure if it was shock or just surprise that filled Ari’s face when she looked out the open half of the kitchen door and saw them all standing there.
“I didn’t want you celebrating the Solstice alone, so I decided to join you.” Dianna hesitated, no longer certain this was a good idea since Ari looked so uncomfortable. “And I brought some friends,” she finished lamely.
“Blessings of the day to you,” Ari said.
Oh dear, Dianna thought when Ari didn’t open the other half of the door and welcome them in. Maybe she isn’t alone. Maybe that Neall is with her, and that’s why she isn’t eager to have us here. If that’s the case, that’s all the more reason to stay. I’d like to get another look at Lucian’s rival. “This is Aiden, Lyrra, and Falco. Aiden is a minstrel, and Lyrra sometimes accompanies him.”
“I’m his inspiration,” Lyrra said, giving Ari a smile.
Aiden slanted a look at Lyrra and said nothing.
Looking more resigned than pleased, Ari opened the kitchen door. “Come in and be welcome.”
It was the first time Dianna had seen Ari openly wear the pentagram. It was also the first time she’d seen Ari wear any jewelry that had come from Lucian. Oh, yes, she recognized that pendant and began to wonder—and worry—about why Ari chose to wear it tonight.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Falco’s grimace as he made a quick appraisal of Ari’s costume. And she saw the way Ari blushed and looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Before she could decide what to say, or how to move close enough to Falco to stomp on his foot without it being obvious, Lyrra stepped forward. Her expression was equally appraising.
“Is that a traditional Solstice costume?” Lyrra asked. “It reminds me of places where land and water meet.” She laughed quietly. “Never mind me. Everyone says I can be a bit fanciful at times.”
“Actually, you’re right,” Ari said. “I chose these clothes to stand for earth, water, air, and fire—the four branches of the Mother.”
Dianna suppressed a sigh. Had Ari given any thought at all to Lucian when she decided to wear that pendant or was the ruby being a red stone the sole reason for the decision?
“We didn’t come empty-handed,” Dianna said brightly.
Ari still hesitated. “Dianna, may I speak with you for a moment?” She turned and walked into the cottage’s main room.
Glancing uneasily at her companions, Dianna followed.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Ari said hurriedly, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t be overheard. “But the Solstice— Do they know what I am?”
“Yes, they know,” Dianna replied.
“And they can accept that?”
“They wouldn’t have come with me if they couldn’t.” Dianna waited. “Is there something you need to do this evening that can’t be done while others are here?”
“There is something that needs to be done,” Ari agreed slowly, “but it can be observed by others.”
“I just wanted to bring you a little company and music. If that doesn’t give pleasure, we can go.”
“No,” Ari said quickly. She finally gave Dianna a warm smile. “No, don’t go. It would give me pleasure to celebrate with you.”
“In that case, let’s unpack the feast.”
As she turned back toward the kitchen, she heard a soft whimper.
“Merle?” Ari said, walking over to the rocking chair in front of the hearth. She knelt beside it, frowning at the cowering puppy. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Merle. These are friends.”
Not his friends, Dianna thought as she stared at the puppy. And he knows it.
Ari rose. “I guess he’s intimidated by having so many people here. He’s not used to it.”
That explanation would serve well enough.
Not giving Ari any more time to wonder about the puppy’s behavior, Dianna linked her arm through Ari’s and led the girl back to the kitchen.
Lyrra was emptying the saddlebags Aiden and Falco had brought in. A variety of pots and jars filled the worktable beside the sink. Apparently, they’d had no doubts about her ability to convince Ari to let them stay.
“Hold the saddlebag,” Lyrra muttered at Aiden. “This one’s stuck.” When she finally tugged the covered dish out of the saddlebag, everyone stared at the bright-colored ribbons that were tied around it.
“Were you expecting it to fly away?” Aiden asked blandly.
“I didn’t want the cover to fall off,” Lyrra grumbled. A minute later, as the knots refused to yield, the grumbling turned to growls. “Do you have a knife?”
The Mother only knew what Ari was thinking while she sliced through the ribbons. Dianna wasn’t sure what to think either. At least Aiden was deft enough about opening and pouring the wine, and Falco managed to put a sufficient number of plates and pieces of cutlery on the table for them, even if it looked like they’d been tossed on the table rather than deliberately set.
When everything was on the table, Falco carved the chicken while Aiden carved the beef roast. Ari put a small bowl with pieces of beef and chicken in front of the rocking chair for Merle. She looked sad when even that wasn’t sufficient to entice the frightened pup.
They had just taken their seats when someone knocked on the kitchen door.
“Excuse me,” Ari said, hurrying to answer.
Dianna watched her go. No one pretended to fill their plates. They were all too busy trying to catch the conversation, especially since the voice responding to Ari was pitched low enough to belong to a man.
That Neall. Who else would be showing up this evening? And he certainly hadn’t been in her plans.
Except it wasn’t Neall.
A few moments later, Ari returned, looking nervous.
Lucian didn’t look nervous, and what burned in the back of his eyes wasn’t surprise. But there was nothing he could do without distressing Ari—at least, Dianna hoped he would take that into consideration.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Lucian said mildly.
“Blessings of the day to you,” Lyrra said, smiling. Her smile faded when Dianna and Lucian just stared at her. “I’m sorry. Isn’t that the proper greeting?�
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“It is in this house,” Ari replied. She made the introductions, then said, “I’ll fetch a chair for you, Lucian.”
“I’ll get the chair,” Aiden said. “Ari, you sit next to your guest. Falco, move over and sit beside Dianna.”
While Ari hurried to get another place setting, Falco moved his chair and Aiden found another.
At first, Dianna wished she’d been the first to offer to move since sitting beside Lucian throughout the meal wasn’t going to be comfortable. When Aiden set his chair at the other end of the table and sat down, she was glad she hadn’t been the first to offer. At least she wouldn’t be the one who would have to keep meeting the anger in Lucian’s eyes—and if anyone could stand equal to the Lightbringer in a battle of wills, it was the Bard.
“We are well met,” Dianna said, raising her glass.
“We are well met,” Lucian echoed, following her example.
“May friendship warm us all the days of our lives,” Ari added, smiling.
There was nothing to add to that, and, somehow, for Dianna, those words made her deception over the past few weeks a difficult meal to swallow.
Deception might be a hard meal to swallow, but, Dianna reasoned, honesty would have been harder, and a little more deception wouldn’t hurt at this point. She pulled Ari aside as soon as she could after the meal ended, and whispered, “Is he the one?”
“Yes,” Ari whispered back.
“He’s certainly handsome.”
“Yes, he is.” Then Ari added with a touch of annoyance, “But he’s usually more polite.”
Dianna gave Ari a woman-to-woman smile. “I expect he was hoping to spend time with you alone.”
Ari grabbed Dianna’s hand, squeezed lightly, then let go. “I’m glad you came tonight,” she said abruptly. Pushing up her sleeves, she pumped water into the basin to wash the dishes.
Not sure what to make of that statement, but certain that it didn’t bode well, Dianna hurried back into the main room to help Lyrra finish clearing the table.
“We scraped through dinner all right,” Lyrra said quietly. “Aiden can hold his own with Lucian, but Falco looks like he’s going to try to change shape and fly away at any moment.”
“Why don’t you go outside with the men and try to keep things calm?”
“I’d rather stay inside and help Ari with these chores. Why don’t you go out there?”
“I met her first. I get to stay inside. Besides, Lucian isn’t angry with you.”
“Oh, I think Lucian is angry enough right now for it to spill over on all of us. But nothing will happen until we get back to Tir Alainn.” Lyrra picked up the wineglasses. “I must admit, tonight I don’t look forward to going home.”
Neither do I, Dianna thought, unless Lucian stays here tonight. And I don’t think he will.
“How about a little music?” Aiden asked, taking his harp out of its case.
“Dance music,” Dianna said brightly. “We have two fine gentlemen here who will sacrifice their toes in the spirit of a pleasant entertainment.” To avoid seeing what Lucian might think of this, she turned to Ari. “Come on, Ari.”
“Oh, I— I don’t know how to dance,” Ari said quickly.
“You don’t dance?” Lyrra sounded scandalized.
“Not that kind of dance.”
Dianna could feel curiosity swell the air around them, but none of them felt quite brazen enough to ask what kind of dances witches did know. “Well then, it’s time you learned. Just a simple country dance. The steps aren’t difficult. I’ll show you.” She grabbed Ari’s arm and pulled until the girl was standing beside her. Then she looked expectantly at Lucian and Falco.
Falco gave Ari one hopeful look before wisely taking his place facing Dianna. Lucian took his place more slowly, his eyes watchful.
“It truly isn’t difficult,” Lucian said softly.
Lyrra set the beat with her drum.
Good, Dianna thought as Aiden and Lyrra began to sing. The dance had simple, repetitive steps. Even so, Ari was too self-conscious to relax into the music and follow its rhythm. Or maybe too conscious of Lucian. He did look wonderful when he danced. If only that was the reason Ari kept missing the cues in the music of what to do next.
The next dance was a little better, even if it wasn’t a dance any of them knew.
Deciding to give Falco a warning that he was coming too close to acting like a fool, Dianna trod on his foot. Falco, exaggerating shamelessly, began hopping in a circle on one foot. Ari, thinking this was the next step, imitated him. There really wasn’t anything for Lucian and Dianna to do but go along with it. Lyrra abandoned the words of the song and began singing silly dance steps.
By the time the tune was done, Ari was laughing, and Lucian almost looked as if he would forgive them for coming to Brightwood that evening.
“No more,” Ari gasped, collapsing in one of the chairs that they had brought outside. She fanned her face with her hand.
Sinking into the chair beside Ari’s, Dianna exchanged a look with Lyrra, who grinned. Yes, the evening was going well, despite its surprises.
“Why don’t you play us a song, Aiden?” Lucian said.
“The Lover’s Lament,” Dianna said. A moment later, seeing the way Lyrra’s eyes widened, she realized it might not have been the best song to request. Then again, maybe it would help Ari understand a man’s feelings where the custom of gifting was concerned.
After a slight hesitation, Aiden began to play the introduction. He glanced at Lyrra, who nodded. She would sing the woman’s responses to her lover.
I gave my love a string of pearls
As fine as they could be.
She gave me back the string of pearls.
“These aren’t the jewels for me.”
I gave my love a sapphire fair,
‘Twas bluer than the sea.
She gave me back the sapphire fair.
“ ‘Tis not the jewel for me.”
I gave my love a diamond rare,
‘Twas beautiful to see.
She gave me back the diamond rare.
“ Tis not the jewel for me.
‘Tis not the jewel for me.“
Dianna looked out of the corner of her eye at Ari. The girl didn’t seem caught up in the feelings of a lover’s sadness that his gifts were never sufficient; she seemed puzzled.
“Didn’t you like it?” Aiden asked.
“It’s lovely,” Ari said, “and you both sing it very well. But—” She struggled for a moment, then added, “I wondered why you didn’t sing the last two verses. The song is very sad this way.”
Dianna stiffened. She looked anxiously at Aiden, whose eyes had changed to a piercing blue.
“You know other verses?” Aiden demanded.
Aiden, she’s not an apprentice bard. Don’t take that tone with her.
“Umm . . . well . . . yes,” Ari stammered, then added hurriedly, “But it might be that it’s not usually sung with the other verses. It’s just the way I learned it.”
“Then you can sing them?”
Lucian straightened up in his chair in response to the sharpness in Aiden’s voice.
“Aiden,” Lyrra said, giving him a gentle nudge, “sometimes you let your quest for songs ride roughshod over your manners.” She gave Ari her best smile. “Don’t pay attention to him. I would like to hear the other verses.”
“Oh . . . I don’t sing very well.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Aiden said. He huffed when the next nudge Lyrra gave him wasn’t so gentle. “Please sing them. Start with the last verse we sang and go on.”
He started playing the verse. Ari didn’t sing. She just chewed on her lower lip and hunched in her chair.
Aiden took a deep breath—and let it out slowly. “What?”
“Well, it’s not really two more verses. There’s a . . . a . . . transition verse—”
“A bridge.”
Ari nodded. “A bridge, and then the last verse.”
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sp; “I think I can follow along,” Aiden said dryly. When he started to play again and she still didn’t sing, he stopped. “Something else?”
“The version I know isn’t played quite so mournful.”
Aiden played a verse through at a slightly increased tempo, then glanced at Ari. When she nodded, Dianna sighed in relief.
I gave my love a diamond rare,
‘Twas beautiful to see.
She gave me back the diamond rare.
“ ‘Tis not the jewel for me.”
I wandered through the days and nights
And finally I did see
What jewels it was my lady fair
Was looking for from me.
I gave her kindness, courtesy.
Respect, and loyalty.
I strung them on the strands of love.
“These are the jewels for me.
These are the jewels for me.“
Aiden finished the song with a repeat of the introduction. When he finished, there was silence.
An uncomfortable, almost painful, silence.
None of them dared look at Lucian.
Oh, Lucian, Dianna thought. If that’s what she’s expecting from a lover, she’s more of a starry-eyed romantic than any human I've met. No wonder your gifts meant so little.
“That was lovely, Ari,” Lyrra said.
Ari mumbled a “thank you” and looked out at the meadow.
A drum beat. Stopped.
They all turned toward the sound.
Six of the Small Folk were standing nearby. Three men and three women. They all wore surly, suspicious expressions. Two of the men carried drums.
“Blessings of the day to you,” Ari said, smiling. “Come and be welcome.”
One man came forward. “We came for the dance,” he said gruffly, looking at Dianna. “We always come for the dance. ‘Tis a custom.”
“The dance?” Dianna asked quietly, leaning toward Ari.
“Yes, the dance,” Ari said. She looked out at the meadow and the softening daylight. “It’s time.”
Dianna tensed when Ari stood up and walked to a spot in the meadow that was parallel to a brazier filled with kindling. When they’d come outside after dinner, she’d noticed the small circle of stones that formed the fire pit that held the brazier, but thought nothing of it.
