Shadows and Light

he came west to join Neall and Ari that really was too small for a grown man—”
    “But an acceptable mount for a lady,” Ashk protested.
    “—but it was a good horse, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
    Ashk opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap of her teeth.
    “Yes,” Padrick said, grinning at her, “he softened Neall up like the sun softens butter.”
    “It isn’t right to take advantage of Neall,” Ashk growled.
    “Considering the wink he gave me after Evan walked away, I’d say Neall’s got a fair amount of horse trader in him, too.”
    Ashk screamed—but quietly enough not to cause a commotion that would have people banging on the door wanting answers.

    “So when you and Evan go over to bargain for the little horse, don’t make Neall do all the work of haggling himself down to the price he has in mind. You have to do your share in this bartering.”
    “I don’t barter.”
    Padrick took her hand, his expression turning serious. “Yes, you do. All the time. Just not for small things. Not for things like this.”
    Ashk studied his face, studied the way the candle flame gave it light and shadows. “When do you have to leave for the barons’ council?”
    “I should have left already, but I wanted to bring Evan home before I went. Don’t be worrying now,” he added, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. “I’ll go up to Tir Alainn and use the bridges between the Clan territories until I get to the southern end of the Mother’s Hills. That will save me a day’s travel, if not more.”
    “You’ll need to ride a Fae horse if you’re planning to use the shining roads.”
    “I can cloud a stable lad’s mind well enough for him to see nothing more than a fine but ordinary horse,”
    Padrick said.
    “I know,” Ashk replied, smiling.
    “And I can use the glamour to hide this gentry face behind the mask of looking Fae so that my presence in Tir Alainn won’t upset the Clans beyond the west.”
    What would Morag have said if I’d told her that I loved a man who, because of the mingling of bloodlines over generations, was not only a gentry baron, but Fae, as well? Ashk wondered. If she
    ’d shown contempt for our marriage, which is how I suspect other Fae beyond the western Clans would respond, it would have killed the friendship slowly growing between us. So whose feelings was I protecting by saying nothing until she was thrust into meeting Padrick and the children today? Morag’s? Or my own?
    “I have to go, Ashk,” Padrick said softly. “It pains my heart to leave you, but I have to go to this council.
    ”
    She pulled herself from her own thoughts and realized he was genuinely troubled. “I know that. We each have the duties that go with who we are.” She studied him carefully. “What troubles you, Padrick?”
    When he didn’t say anything, she waited. She’d learned over the years that when he had something on his mind, he collected his thoughts and then strung them together like beads before presenting them to her.
    “Many things,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what I heard at the barons’ council last autumn. Didn’t like what I was hearing at the club where I’d dine so that I could listen to more than the other barons braying their opinions at each other. There were things happening back east last summer that bode ill for all of us, and it was as much what wasn’t said as what was that troubles me—especially when I could put those things together with what Neall told me about the Black Coats.”
    Ashk shivered. Neall had been more willing to talk to Padrick than to her, but she’d learned enough from Padrick to share his uneasiness. And it occurred to her that if she truly wanted to know more, the person to ask was Morag.
    Well, she would ask Morag. But not tonight.

    “I’m also troubled by the merchant boys,” Padrick continued.
    “You don’t approve of them as friends for Evan?” She wasn’t sure she approved of them since she was fairly certain Evan wouldn’t have thought of trying to corner her into buying him a horse at his age if there hadn’t been two coin-counting little brains helping him look at a mother’s loving words as a chip on the bartering table.
    “They’re fine lads. Intelligent and lively, yet courteous and respectful. No, it’s not the boys themselves, but... There are good schools in the east—better schools than you can find in the west if the eastern barons can be believed. A wealthy merchant