Shadows and Light

if they aren’t fed soon,” Neall said.
    “Which means the rest of us will get to eat, as well. That sounds like a fine plan.”
    With a mischievous grin, Neall headed out to the part of the meadow where several children were playing some kind of odd game of tag with Merle.
    Aiden drank the last couple of swallows of ale, draining his tankard. A Fae Lord. Oh, the face was certainly human, but there was no denying that Neall was a Fae Lord. A young Lord of the Woods. And a fine young man.
    “Blessings of the day to you, Aiden.”
    Aiden turned. Morag stood a few feet behind him.
    “Blessings of the day, Morag.” Before she could speak, he shook his head. “You made your apology, and it was accepted.”
    “I hurt you,” Morag said softly.
    “Yes, you did. But I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” He looked over to where Ari sat with the other women, laughing about something. “She’s different here.”
    Morag shook her head as she moved to stand beside him. “No, she isn’t.”
    He turned so they both stood facing the meadow, watching Neall and Merle herd laughing children toward a trough where they could wash their hands. “She is. She’s bloomed.”
    “She’s accepted here—by the Fae, by the villagers. Here, she’s a Daughter of the House of Gaian. Here, she’s wanted for herself, not for what she has or what she can do for someone else.”
    “And she has love’s jewels.” Aiden sighed. “You made the right choice, Morag, giving them both the chance to get away from Brightwood ... and the Clan there. Lucian cared for Ari. I’m sure of that. But he wasn’t in love with her, and I think he always would have found her... wanting ... in some way, would have wanted her to be something other than who and what she is. He would have cared about her, would have continued to be her lover, probably would have sired a child on her in order to assure that there would continue to be a witch at Brightwood, but he wouldn’t have refused an invitation to a Fae lady’s bed when he went to Tir Alainn—and he never would have looked at Ari as if she contained all the joy in the world.“
    “For Neall, she does.”
    “I know. And she loves him.”
    “Yes, she does.”
    He didn’t want to talk about Lucian or Brightwood or the past anymore, so he was relieved when he saw Ashk and the other women walking toward the table—and he noticed Neall and the children approaching from the other direction, with Merle tagging along, looking hopeful. Studying the children, Aiden suspected the young shadow hound had good reason to feel hopeful about getting a share of the feast.
    “Oh,” Morag said. “Ashk said she had the cooks roast a couple of chickens, especially for you, but she wasn’t sure if you preferred breasts or thighs. For some reason, Lyrra found that very funny.”
    Remembering Ashk’s last comments about chickens and eggs, and seeing the way she was smiling at him as she approached, Aiden felt his face warm a bit. “Wonderful.”
    “I’m glad I’m not playing tonight,” Aiden said, putting an arm around Lyrra’s waist as he watched the musicians check their instruments.
    “No, you’re not,” she said, laughing quietly. “If they lent you an instrument, you’d be in the middle of them.”
    “I don’t know the songs.”
    “When has that ever bothered you?”
    It did bother him a little. There was music here that had never been heard beyond the western Clans. The fault of those who had been the Bard before him. His fault since he’d become the Lord of Song for never having visited the western Clans until now. “I’ve played with them for the past few nights. Tonight I’ll simply enjoy being entertained.”
    Oh, a few minutes of hearing the melodies of the songs they were playing tonight was all he would have needed to follow along with them, and play well. He didn’t tell Lyrra that he’d asked about playing with them tonight, and the musicians had looked uncomfortable and told him Ashk wanted his full attention on the entertainment.
    Lyrra gave him a skeptical look, but didn’t have time to say anything before Ashk hurried up to them.
    “Come along,” she said, looking at Lyrra. “I’ll show you your place for the spiral dance.”
    “My place?” Lyrra said nervously. “I can’t participate in the dance. I’m not a witch.”
    Ashk studied her for a moment. “You have woodland eyes. That means you claim some kinship to the House of Gaian. Tonight, that’s