Shadows and Light

there wouldn
    ’t withhold his consent.”
    “That’s the point, Liam,” Padrick said. “The Mother’s Hills belong to the House of Gaian. The barons don’t rule any part of it. Our decrees don’t apply there.”

    “Apart of Sylvalan, yet apart from Sylvalan,” Breanna said softly.
    “Yes,” Padrick agreed. “Just as the Old Places are apart from the human communities. They’re the home of the Small Folk and the witches ... and the Fae.”
    “The Fae don’t make their home here.”
    “But in the west they do. The Old Places are the wellsprings of the Great Mother’s power, and the home of magic. So those are the places the Clans call home. That is the land they defend and allow no humans to encroach upon.”
    “They didn’t do much to defend the Old Places in the east, did they?”
    “No, they didn’t—and they’ve paid for it.”
    Remembering what Lyrra and Aiden had told her, Breanna held her tongue. She wanted to fight with someone because she was tired and scared and her heart hurt for the kin she was certain she had lost, but it wasn’t fair to fight with this baron who was also a Fae Lord. He, too, was tired and had family to worry about.
    Nuala spoke for the first time. “You’ll be welcome in the Mother’s Hills. We can send you to kin there.
    They’ll help you on your journey as much as they can.”
    “My thanks, ladies.” Padrick pushed away from the table. “Now I’d better—”
    “You’ll stay here tonight,” Nuala said. “You’ll have a good dinner and a good night’s sleep. In the morning, Breanna and Rory will escort you to the trail that leads into the hills.”
    “You’ve more than enough people to feed, Mistress Nuala,” Padrick protested. “I can—”
    “That is correct. We’ve plenty of people who need to be fed,” Nuala said. ‘Two more won’t make any difference. You’re staying, as well, Liam. Spare yourself the trouble of arguing. The decision has been made.“
    For the first time since yesterday, when Elinore and Brooke had come racing up to the house, Breanna had to fight a smile as Padrick sank back into his chair and sipped the now-cold tea.
    “I daresay you are not accustomed to being spoken to that way,” Nuala said.
    Padrick choked a little as he swallowed the tea. “You wouldn’t say that if you met my wife.”
    Nuala smiled. “I hope to have the pleasure one day.”

Chapter Twenty-two
    “Ian? Ian, where are you?”
    Ignoring the old woman’s confused, almost tearful call, Ubel slipped through the crowd of people on the docks and headed briskly for the posting station to see if there were any horses available for hire. Or, if the mail coach was ready to leave, perhaps he could obtain a seat instead of waiting for one of the passenger coaches. No. A horse. He’d had enough of being crammed in with this Sylvalan filth. And he didn’t want to take the chance that the old bitch who was looking for him might be escorted to the posting house before he could leave and try to latch on to him now that she was no longer useful.
    Ian. A filthy Sylvalan name. But it had served its purpose, just as the woman had. Just tools to discard now that he was through with them.
    He found the posting station. The horses available for hire looked like barely adequate, rough-gaited animals, but he settled for what he thought was the best of them, tied his saddlebags behind the saddle, and made his way through Wellingsford until he reached the road that would take him east to Durham—
    and to Master Adolfo.
    As he kicked the horse into an easy canter, Ubel smiled coldly. He had gotten out of the west, had gotten away from the Fae. Master Adolfo wouldn’t be pleased that he’d lost the Inquisitors he’d brought with him, but he thought his report on the Fae’s active presence in the west would mollify the Master Inquisitor’s displeasure over the loss of the men. After all, even Adolfo hadn’t been successful in his confrontation with one of the Fae.

Chapter Twenty-three
    Snort. Stamp.
    Aiden looked at the dark horse standing several feet away from him. Sighed. Put the saddle on the ground. Tried to ignore Lyrra’s muffled giggles as she saddled her mare.
    “All right, Minstrel,” he said. “One song—a short song— and then we have to go.”
    Minstrel, the dark horse, tossed his head.
    Aiden took a breath.
    Minstrel pricked his ears.
    Aiden sang the fifth and sixth verses of the tavern song he’d been singing as “a short song” for