Shadows and Light

Clans, since they would be too close to Dianna and Lucian’s Clan. I’ve looked for her in the midlands and the north. I thought she might have come back to the eastern part of Sylvalan since the trouble is here, so I—”
    “It isn’t safe for a woman to travel in the east, especially a woman traveling alone,” Aiden said sharply.
    “And well I know it,” Morphia replied bitterly. “There was a place,” she continued softly. “I was called there by need so great I couldn’t deny it. So many human women crying out. So much pain, so much fear. I felt their dream, helped them shape it, saw it as if I was standing just beyond reach. I stayed as long as I dared to feed the magic that would let them dream together because it would fade once I was gone, but I knew I had to get away from the east and whatever it is the humans have done there.” Giving Aiden a wobbly smile, she stepped back from his embrace.
    “Where will you go now?” Lyrra asked. “Back to your home Clan?”

    Morphia shook her head. “I’m going to find Morag. I’m going to the western Clans.”
    Lyrra glanced at Aiden, relieved that he looked as startled as she felt.
    “But... Morphia ...,” Lyrra said. “They’re the western Clans.” Clans the rest of the Fae avoided whenever possible because there was something about those Fae that made them all uncomfortable.
    Determination filled Morphia’s eyes. “I know they’re ... different... from the rest of us. Maybe different enough not to dance to the Lightbringer’s tune and shun Morag for doing what she had to do. Besides, that’s the only place left to search, so that’s where I’ll go.”
    “Why don’t you ride with us for a while,” Aiden said.
    “You’re heading south?”
    He shook his head. “North.”
    “Then I thank you, but no. I’ll keep riding south until I find a shining road through the Veil. I’ll be able to travel faster through Tir Alainn.” She turned away, started walking toward her horse, then turned back to look at them. “I will find her. I won’t turn away from her simply because Lucian and Dianna want to punish her for doing what was right.”
    “It doesn’t matter that she was right,” Aiden said. “The Fae who have shunned her still sleep easy at night.”
    Morphia gave him a strange look. “Some of them no longer sleep easy.” She raised her hand. “May your dreams be gentle ones.”
    Lyrra felt a little tremor go through her body. It hadn’t occurred to her that the Sleep Sister could have a darker side to her nature. “And if the dreams are not gentle?”
    “Then, if I were you, I would try to understand whatever they’re trying to tell you.”
    Aiden slipped his arm around Lyrra’s waist. She leaned against him as they watched Morphia mount her horse and ride away.
    “Let’s get away from this place,” Aiden said.
    Lyrra didn’t argue, didn’t remind him that they hadn’t tried to find out if any Fae had made it to the human world before the shining road closed.
    As she mounted her mare, she suddenly realized why Aiden was less generous in his concern. He would have ridden this way last summer, when he’d left Ridgeley—and Brightwood. He would have warned the Clan whose piece of Tir Alainn was anchored to this Old Place. He would have told them about the Black Coats. He would have told them who the witches are and why they needed to be protected.
    And still the witches here had died. Despite everything he had said or tried to do, the witches had died.
    Was it any wonder that he probably felt the Clan deserved whatever had happened to them?
    Trying not to take more than his share of the narrow bed, Aiden stared at the ceiling of the tiny room.
    With the window open, he could hear the men in the tavern below. He should have been down there, playing his harp, singing his songs, listening to the news and rumors about what was happening in other villages. He didn’t have the heart for it tonight, so he’d paid for the room, the meal, and stabling for the horses out of the rapidly diminishing coins he and Lyrra had left. No chance of filling his purse from the Clan chests. If the Clan chests still existed in those lost pieces of Tir Alainn, they might as well be sitting on the moon or at the bottom of the sea for all he could reach them.
    The witches had died. More Daughters of the House of Gaian lost. And the presence of the nighthunters meant that the Black Coats hadn’t been driven out of Sylvalan as he’d hoped