Shadows and Light

didn’t respond, she gave him a knife-edged smile.

    Aiden urged his horse forward, not sure what he expected, but not feeling easy until Lyrra was across the bridge. When he looked back, the sprite had climbed the bank high enough to peer over the edge. Her eyes were still filled with loathing, and her smile was still knife sharp. He wondered if she had a particular reason for disliking the Fae, or if it was simply because the Fae had always dismissed the Small Folk as insignificant, lesser beings who were expected to obey the Fair Folk’s commands.
    He almost turned back, almost tried to tell her about the Inquisitors and why it was necessary to keep watch. But if his own kind wouldn’t listen to him, there was no reason to think she would trust anything he might say. So he continued down the lane, with the packhorse and Lyrra trailing behind him.
    Strength flowed from the land, filled him with every breath he took. It made him dizzy, as if he’d drunk too much strong wine, and so thirsty for more he wanted to gulp it down. Fighting to stay alert, he looked up and saw the Mother’s Hills.
    The Fae avoided the Mother’s Hills. Perhaps it was simply because there were no shining roads there that anchored Tir Alainn to the human world, and there were no Old Places. Perhaps there was something ... strange ... about those hills. Or perhaps the Fae said the hills were strange because they sensed that they weren’t welcome there.
    When they came in sight of a manor house, Aiden reined in, waited for Lyrra to come up beside him. She studied the well-kept house, then looked at him.
    “Perhaps I misunderstood what the butler said,” Aiden said carefully. The homes they’d seen in the other Old Places had ranged from large cottages like the one Ari had lived in to places that were little better than one-room hovels. Neither of them had seen a manor house like this in an Old Place. The signs of gentry prosperity were unnerving. They’d seen no sign before now that witches lived this well.
    “The magic is still strong here,” Lyrra said, but there was a trace of doubt in her voice.
    “And the water sprite referred to the ladies as Daughters.” Aiden sighed. “Come on, then. We won’t find out anything standing here.”
    As they rode toward the house, a dark-haired woman raced through the arch that Aiden guessed led to the stable yard. She slid to a stop when she saw them.
    “Did you see a black dog and a string of sausages?” she demanded.
    “No, Mistress,” Aiden replied. “I regret we have not.”
    The woman put her hands on her hips and yelled, “Idjit! Come back here, you feeble-minded excuse for a dog!”
    Since they were here to beg food and shelter, Aiden didn’t think it prudent to point out that a dog who could steal sausages probably wasn’t feeble-minded.
    No dog appeared. Not even a bush rustled to indicate where the thief might be hiding.
    The woman let out an exasperated sigh, then turned to study Aiden and Lyrra. There was a friendly wariness in her eyes that made Aiden uncertain if they would get much help here but also made him feel relieved that she wouldn’t assume all travelers were good people.
    “Blessings of the day to you,” she said.
    “Blessings of the day, Mistress,” Aiden replied. “I’m Aiden. This is my wife, Lyrra.”

    She studied them, then studied the carefully wrapped instruments tied on the packhorse. “Minstrels?”
    “Minstrel and storyteller,” Lyrra said.
    “The Bard and the Muse,” Aiden said.
    “Aiden!” Lyrra looked shocked.
    Aiden smiled at the witch. Let her draw her own conclusions about a couple of entertainers who had enough gall to use titles that belonged to the Fae and yet couldn’t coax an audience to part with a few coppers. Not that they’d tried to earn any coins in the past couple of days, despite having an empty purse.
    “I’m Breanna,” the witch said.
    “That’s a lovely name.”
    She ignored the flattery while her sharp eyes continued to study them. “You look like you’ve had hard traveling the past few days.”
    Aiden’s smile faded. He heard the catch in Lyrra’s breathing and wondered what he could say in explanation if she suddenly burst into tears.
    “Yes,” he said. “It’s been hard traveling.”
    Breanna said nothing for a long moment. Then, “Come this way. Clay will see to your horses.”
    She led them through the archway and called for Clay.
    After they handed over the horses, they followed Breanna to