by Anne Bishop
“I came this morning for a selfish reason,” Aiden said, sitting on the bench with her, the plate of cakes between them.
Naturally, Ari thought. Would one of them have come for any other reason? “And what is that?”
“The song. It pricked my pride.” He smiled. “I have an excellent memory, and I’d been sure I’d learned most of the songs that are sung. But I’d never heard those verses of ‘The Lover’s Lament’ before.“
“As I said, it may be a variation of the song that’s only known around here.”
“No,” Aiden said thoughtfully. “I don’t think that’s true. I have the feeling it’s sung that way more often than anyone realized.”
“Perhaps. Here, it’s known as ‘Love’s Jewels,’ so the different name may have caused confusion.”
“I’ve never heard it by that name, either.”
Ari didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing.
Eventually, Aiden said, “It occurred to me that you may know some songs that have been forgotten elsewhere. There’s one I’ve been trying to find for a while now.”
“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine.”
“All right.”
Ari turned on the bench so that she faced him. “Which one are you?”
“I’m Aiden,” he said slowly. “The minstrel.”
Ari turned away and huffed. “If you’re nothing more than a minstrel, then I’m the finest gentry lady in Sylvalan. You’re a Fae Lord. I want to know which one.”
“What makes you think I’m Fae?” He didn’t drop the glamour magic, but the grim expression made the human mask look more like his real face.
“Magic shines, Lord Aiden,” Ari said. “Especially during the dance. It’s something you should keep in mind the next time you want to deceive a witch.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a deceit,” Aiden protested.
“It isn’t what I call honesty,” Ari said sharply. “Friendships that are founded on lies aren’t friendships.”
“The feelings can be true even if the surface isn’t what you would call honest,” Aiden replied, his voice equally sharp.
“Are there any feelings, Aiden?” Ari asked, her anger suddenly changing to sadness.
“I can’t answer for someone else.” He looked out at the meadow for a long time. Then he sighed. “I’m the Bard.”
Ari almost asked about the others, then decided against it, knowing instinctively that he would answer questions about himself but would become protective about the others.
“What did you want to know?” she asked.
He hesitated, and she wondered what he thought would happen now if he asked the question.
“Do you know any song about the Pillars of the World?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
Aiden sighed.
Pillars of the World. Why was that familiar?
“I remember,” Ari said before she could bite back the words.
The air around Aiden filled with his intensity, and that intensity made her cautious. She had to tell him something—but not everything. Not until she figured out why the Fae had become so interested in Brightwood. It wasn’t just because Lucian had been her lover for a little while. She felt sure of that.
“The day my grandmother died,” Ari said, struggling to find a way to say just enough, “she went for a walk, up to her favorite hill. Before she left, she said, ‘The Pillars of the World have been forgotten. It is time they also forgot.’ ”
“Did she say anything more?” Aiden demanded.
Ari shook her head, not daring to look at him in case he could sense the lie. “We— We went looking for her when the afternoon waned and she still hadn’t come back. We found her on the hill. She had fallen asleep . . . and died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I miss her.” She stood up. “You’ll have to excuse me, Aiden. I want to get the garden watered before the sun is too high.”
“Yes, of course.” He whistled to his horse. “Thank you for your time.”
When he was mounted, she said, “Blessings of the day to you, Aiden.”
She wondered why he looked so relieved to hear her say that.
“And to you, Mistress Ari.”
“Why don’t you save yourself some time on the journey back and simply go across the meadow,” Ari said. “That’s the way Lucian went when he left, so I assume it’s the shortest way back to Tir Alainn.”
His only response was to turn his horse and ride away.
Ari watched him until he disappeared into the woods. Then she returned to the chore of watering the garden. There was a great deal to do in the coming weeks—and more to do once the harvest began.
She hoped she hadn’t told Aiden too much. But if anyone could put together the whole from bits and pieces, it was the Bard. She strongly suspected that what he didn’t know, he would be able to guess. She didn’t have a reason for not telling him all of it, only an instinctive hesitation.
The Pillars of the World have been forgotten. It is time they also forgot. It is time they tasted the richness of feelings instead of living on the scraps of affection thrown to them by people who no longer even remember why they throw the scraps.
That sounds like a sad way to live. Who are the Pillars of the World, Gran?
We are.
Yap yap yap.
Ari turned in time to see Merle bound away from the creek bank and head straight toward Neall, who was crouching to greet the pup.
“Be careful,” Ari called. “His paws are—”
Merle bounded one step too far. His paws hit the target.
“—muddy,” Ari finished.
Wincing a little, Neall stood up. “He’s already gotten bigger.” He looked down at Merle. “You’re going to have to learn not to jump like that. You’re getting too big.”
Merle’s entire rump wagged in greeting as he looked up at Neall.
“Are you all right?” Ari asked. “Should I try to wash the mud off?”
“Let it harden first,” Neall said. He blushed. “The mud. Let the mud harden.” He closed his eyes and muttered, “Mother’s mercy.”
Ari burst out laughing.
Neall gave her an exasperated look. “You think this is funny?”
“I’m sorry, Neall, but you’ve got two paw prints—”
“I know where they are,” he said dryly.
“Yes, of course you do.” She focused on a tree to avoid looking at the paw prints. He was embarrassed. She found that sweet. She could see herself teasing him about it months from now.
“Ari . . .”
When she looked at him, concern drove away the amusement. He looked like a man who expected to be hurt.
“Do you have time to talk?” Neall asked quietly.
“Yes.” She held out her hand, surprised by the way his trembled when he took it. Strange to feel like she was the one who was suddenly older, stronger, wiser. But she had the answers; he only had the questions.
“I’m no longer staying at Baron Felston’s house,” Neall said abruptly. “I was asked to leave.” He made a sound that was both bitter and amused. “Thrown out, if you want the truth.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. It’s a relief to be away from them.”
“This happened this morning?”
“Last night. I’m staying with Ahern for the time being.”
“It didn’t occur to you to stay here?” She tried to pull her hand from his. His fingers tightened, refusing to let go.
“Yes, it occurred to me. Mother’s mercy, of course it occurred to me. But it wouldn’t have been fair.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Ari, I’ve tried to wait, I’ve tried to be patient. But now I need to know. I’ll be leaving soon. Will I be going alone?”
“Why have you never kissed me, Neall?”
“Because I was afraid I would want too
much more, and you wouldn’t want the same.”
“And now?” She saw his hesitation, saw the nerves.
“Is this a test?” he demanded. “Does my future depend on how well I kiss?”
“No.”
“Then will you at least tell me if this kiss is an ending or a beginning?”
Kindness, courtesy, respect, loyalty. Love. What were Lucian’s trinkets compared to jewels like that? She’d thought about it last night. If she never saw Lucian again, she would remember him fondly and have no regrets. If she never saw Neall again . . .
“It’s a beginning,” she said. Then she smiled. “We’ll build a good life together, Neall.”
His face lit with joy. He put his arms around her, and he kissed her.
There was honesty in his kiss. And there was heart. It didn’t burn through her until she couldn’t think. But it created a warmth deep inside her that swelled until it filled her. This wouldn’t burn hot and fast, swiftly turning to ashes. With Neall, the fire would burn long and slow and sweet.
He broke the kiss, buried his face in her hair. “How long will it take you to pack what you want to take with you? I’m sure Ahern will loan us a wagon. He might even be willing to have a couple of his men ride with us so that they can bring the wagon back.”
“Will Ahern let you stay with him until the harvest?”
His head shot up. “Harvest?” he said in a strangled voice.
“Be sensible, Neall. When we get to your land, there won’t be time to plant a crop to see us through the winter. There won’t be any seeds for next spring. If we wait until the harvest, I’ll be able to can as much as possible from the garden here for us to take with us.”
“But . . . Harvest?”
He sounded so plaintive, she fought not to smile. “Not everything has to wait until the harvest.”
Desire filled his eyes. Then he shook his head. “We’ll wait. If you end up with child, you might feel too poorly to enjoy the journey.”
She almost told him that this was a safe time and that she knew how to prevent creating a babe. But, in a flash of insight, she realized he didn’t want to be with her in the same bed that Lucian had claimed for a little while. He didn’t want to be in a bed where she might compare lovers and find him wanting.
“All right.” Now she smiled. “Come on. We both have work to do.”
“What does that mean?” Dianna asked, looking from Aiden to Lyrra, then back to Aiden. “How can a pillar forget?”
“I can only tell you what I was told,” Aiden said. He raked his fingers through his hair. “But she knows more than she said. I’m sure of that.”
“The Pillars of the World have been forgotten,” Lyrra said quietly. “Pillars of the World. Branches of the Mother.”
Aiden nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“What?” Dianna said impatiently.
Lyrra sighed. “What if those two things are somehow connected? What if it’s the witches’ magic that anchors the road through the Veil to the human world, even if they’re not aware of it?”
Dianna jumped up, too edgy to sit anymore. “Why should it? The Fae created Tir Alainn.”
“All the roads through the Veil are anchored to the Old Places,” Aiden said. “We’ve never thought to look, but it wouldn’t be difficult to find out if there are witches living at each one. And if they are living in the Old Places and that’s what keeps the roads from closing, they might not be destroying Tir Alainn deliberately.”
“All they would have to do is leave the Old Place. As their magic fades from the land—”
“The road would close,” Dianna said softly. “If that’s true, we’ll just have to make sure the witches don’t leave the Old Places.”
“Blessings of the day to you, Ahern,” Ari said. “Are you looking for your old gray stallion again?”
Ahern snorted. “No. And I’m not looking for that pony stud of yours either.” When Ari looked puzzled, he smiled. “The boy said he’d work to earn his keep, so I put him to work.”
Ari felt her cheeks heat. “He told you then.”
“He told me. Well, he didn’t say anything, but he was grinning like a fool when he came back.” He turned toward the sound of a whimper. His face became grim. “When did you get the pup?”
“A few days ago.” Ari stared at the puppy cowering under the bench, then at Ahern as he crouched in front of the bench and held out his hand. No. He couldn’t be. “He’s afraid of the Fae.”
“Shows he has brains. Is he afraid of horses, too? He’ll smell them on me.”
“Not afraid, exactly. Neall’s gelding likes to sneak up on him and snort on his tail.”
Ahern chuckled. “That one. His sire was a dark horse.”
“A dark horse?”
For the first time she could remember, Ahern looked disconcerted.
“A dark horse is a breed unto itself. They have brains and courage . . . and they can be fiercely loyal.”
“Are those the special horses you breed? The ones you don’t sell?”
Ahern nodded slowly. “Special horses for a special kind of person. When the right person comes along, the horse goes with her.”
Merle crept forward enough to sniff Ahern’s hand. Apparently he liked what he smelled. When he started to jump up, Ahern swiftly put his hand on the pup’s head and pushed him to the ground. The pup cringed.
“Take care, little one,” he said as he rubbed Merle’s belly. “There’s no sense in bashing your brains out before you’re old enough to use them.”
Ahern stood up. Merle rolled over, shook himself, and bumbled off to explore the meadow.
“He’ll be a good animal when he grows into himself.”
“He’s already a good animal,” Ari said defensively.
Ahern smiled in approval. “Will you accept a going-away gift?”
“You don’t have to give us anything. Neall said you already offered the loan of a wagon.”
“Not a gift for both of you. Just you.”
“I—” What was she supposed to say to that? How was she supposed to interpret the look in his eyes?
“A horse,” Ahern said. “I know you didn’t want one before, and, considering some things that happened last year, I think I understand why.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Neall was a small boy when he came to live here. He doesn’t remember how far away the nearest village is from your land. You’ll need a horse of your own, and I want to be sure you’ve got a good animal under you.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Ari.” Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he raised her head until she looked at him. “Let me do this for you. For my own sake.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging hard. “I’ll miss you.”
He patted her back awkwardly before stepping away.
“Ahern, do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Do you have doubts about the boy?”
Ari shook her head. “No. Not about Neall.”
“Then go with him and don’t look back.” He paused. “Your grandmother was hoping you’d go with him one day. She told me that.”
Ari wiped her eyes before the tears could spill over. She sniffed, dabbed her nose with her sleeve. “You know the hill Gran favored?”
“I know it.”
“Sometimes, when the ground is still soft after a rain, I’ve noticed there are hoofprints on the hill. I think that’s where your gray horse goes when he goes wandering.”
Ahern stared at the land for a long time. Then, in a voice she could barely hear, “I know he does.”
* * *
Merle dove under the bench, knocking over a basket of yarn.
“You must regret having him a dozen times a day,” Dianna said, walking over to the bench where Ari sat. She wasn’t surprised by the coolness in Ari’s eyes, but she was surprised to feel stung by it.
“I don’t regret having him.” Ari righted the basket a
nd continued her task.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorting the yarn. I can’t take all of it with me, so I want to be sure I take what I need for the weavings I have in mind.”
“Take it?” Alarm made Dianna’s heart race. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving Brightwood.”
“You can’t!”
“I’m not chattel, Dianna. I’m not bound to the land.”
“But you can’t leave.” Dianna paced to the well, then back to the bench. “It’s because of that . . . that Neall, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We’re getting married.”
“That’s no reason for you to leave. Let the lout live here with you if you’re so determined to have him.”
Ari shot to her feet. “He’s not a lout, and what I do is none of your business.”
“Oh, but it is my business,” Dianna said sharply. “You don’t understand.” She took a deep breath, choked down her temper. “Ari, Tir Alainn is disappearing, piece by piece. We believe it’s because the witches are leaving the Old Places. In some way, your magic anchors the road through the Veil.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Dianna, but you’ll have to find someone else to anchor your road. I’m leaving.”
“How can you be so selfish?” Dianna shouted. “If you walk away from here, my home will cease to exist, my entire Clan will die. Will you have the deaths of that many people on your shoulders?”
“You can’t lay that on me,” Ari shouted back. “I have nothing to do with Tir Alainn or the Fae. I’m a witch. My family has kept this land for generations. Now it’s time for someone else to look after it. Let the Fae look after it.”
“I thought we were friends.”
Ari just stared at her. “How convenient that you decided to become friends at this particular time. Where were you before now? Where were you during all the years before now?”
“We didn’t know—”
“That’s right! You didn’t know! You didn’t know someone besides yourself might be important, might have wants, needs, dreams. I’m going to have my own life, and I’m going to have it with Neall.”
“Why would you want someone like him when you can have a man like Lucian?”
“Because I don’t want worthless trinkets! I want my daughter to have a father. I want to have a lover who will also be a partner.”
