Shadows and Light

fluffed its feathers and stayed where it was.
    Breanna’s temper soared. The nearby trees bowed to the sudden gust of wind.
    “Get over here, or I’ll summon a wind that will pluck every feather you’ve got!”
    She clenched her fists and made the effort to ground the power her temper had summoned. The wind eased, releasing the trees.
    The hawk turned his head, stared at the trees for a moment, then flew over to the bench, landing as far away from Breanna as he could while still obeying her order.
    It was tempting to take the couple of steps between them and smack him right on the top of his feathered head. But the anger and fear that she’d held at bay were now churning nastily in her belly, and since she hadn’t smacked Keely or Liam, who had both contributed to those feelings, she couldn’t, in all fairness, shovel all of it on a hawk who was staring at his feet, waiting to get yelled at.
    So who said she had to be fair?
    “Those were nighthunters, you featherhead,” she said through clenched teeth. “Did you know that? Do you have any idea what those things could have done to you if they’d bitten you? Just one bite? Mother’s tits! What were you thinking of to go flying at them like that?”
    Her. He’d been thinking of her. She’d known that the moment she saw him diving toward the swarm.
    What she didn’t understand was why he’d do that.
    “I can’t talk to you like this. I can, but the discussion is a little one-sided. I would appreciate it if you would change to your other form.” And if he didn’t, she’d call up a little wind and knock him right off the bench.
    She turned her head to give him some privacy—and found herself staring at the men who were still gathered near the stables, watching with unfeigned interest. She stared harder. They quickly moved out of sight.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. When she turned her head, the hawk was gone and a young man dressed in a brown coat and trousers sat on the bench, his shoulders slightly hunched, his eyes focused on his boots. He was about her age—a pleasant-looking young man whose clothes looked as if he’d been living rough for a while.
    With effort, Breanna swallowed her temper. He was afraid. No, not quite afraid, but... heart-bruised in some way.
    “I brought you a rabbit,” he said softly.
    “And a salmon,” she replied just as softly.
    He blushed, shifted on the bench as if it had suddenly become uncomfortable.
    Breanna sat down on the bench, near enough that she could touch him if she reached out but not so close that she would inadvertently brush against him. “What’s your name?”
    “Falco.”
    “You’re a Lord of the Hawks?”
    “The Lord of the Hawks.” A touch of arrogance filled his voice—enough to have him raise his head, but not enough for him to look at her.
    The Lord of the Hawks had brought her rabbits to pay for a clothes-peg. If someone else had told her that, she would have dismissed it as a funny story.
    “Why?”
    Frowning, he glanced at her—then looked away just as quickly. “Why am I the Lord of the Hawks?”
    Breanna shook her head. She lifted a hand in a gesture that encompassed the Old Place. “Why are you here? The Fae haven’t wanted anything to do with us before now.”
    “You’re the Mother’s Daughters, the House of Gaian.”
    “We always were. Why does that make a difference now?”
    He shifted again. “Aiden says—” He stopped, his eyes widening.
    “I know Aiden and Lyrra are Fae.”
    The relief on his face made her want to smile, so she pressed her lips together.
    “Aiden says the witches need to be protected. There’s not much I can do, except... maybe if I gave a warning soon enough, you—your family—would be able to escape before the Inquisitors ...”
    He knew someone who wasn’t warned in time, Breanna thought. “There are other Fae keeping watch over the Old Place.” But none of them had tried to help her against the nighthunters.
    “Them.”
    The anger in his voice surprised her.
    “They aren’t watching to help you. They just want to be sure you don’t do anything that might endanger them.”
    “What could we do that would endanger the Fae?”
    Falco finally looked at her. “You could leave. You could run away to escape the Black Coats. If a witch doesn’t live in an Old Place, the shining road closes, and that piece of Tir Alainn disappears unless enough of the Fae can get down the shining road fast enough to keep the road open.