Shadows and Light

come across the river from Wolfram over the winter, something that made the men so uneasy they wouldn’t talk about it. Something that the eastern barons were ordering done to make sure women remained in what was now considered their proper place in society. A “procedure,” the men had muttered, to rid a woman of unhealthy feelings.
    Shivering, Aiden snuggled closer to Lyrra.
    He hadn’t been able to find out what this new danger was, but the fear of it was one of the things that had sent him galloping back to Brightwood.
    Whatever was wrong in the human villages in Sylvalan was spreading. Even a village like this one, where nothing seemed out of place, made him uneasy. More so now, when the desire to protect Lyrra was stronger than his desire to survive.
    Tomorrow they would head for villages closer to the Mother’s Hills, places farther away from the eastern border of Sylvalan. Maybe they would come to an Old Place and take the shining road back to Tir Alainn and rest for a few days. And try, once again, to convince the Fae that the human world was no longer a place where they could amuse themselves when they chose and ignore it the rest of the time.
    Because if the Fae didn’t act soon to protect the witches and help the humans protect themselves from what the Inquisitors were doing to the people of Sylvalan, none of them—the humans, the witches, the Small Folk who lived in the Old Places, or the Fae—would survive.

Chapter Two
    Standing in front of the morning room door, Liam smoothed back his dark brown hair and resisted the urge to give the tops of his boots a quick polish on the back of his trouser legs. His mother knew he’d already been out working, had requested this appointment during the time when he usually came in to spend an hour going over accounts and correspondence and, lately, to reply to the black-edged notes of condolence. She wouldn’t expect him to look like anything but what he was—a man who tended the land that belonged to him and looked after the people who worked for him. The fact that he was now the Baron of Willowsbrook didn’t change anything. He’d been riding over the land for twenty years now, had started visiting the tenant farms on his beloved sorrel pony when he was barely seven years old. She wouldn’t criticize him for being dressed in clothes that were a bit sweaty and smelled of animals.
    Maybe it was because she wouldn ‘t criticize his appearance that he had the urge to run upstairs and put on a fresh shirt before stepping into a room that was bright, feminine, and soothing.
    Giving the door a light rap with his knuckles, Liam walked into the room. His mother, Elinore, stood at the glass door that opened onto a small terrace, no doubt watching the birds that gathered to drink and bathe in the stone basin that was scrubbed and filled with fresh water every morning. The sunlight made the strands of gray in her light brown hair shine like silver. She was a small, slim woman with an inner strength that had weathered all the emotional storms of her marriage.
    He may have inherited his father’s looks—the dark hair, a face handsome enough to catch a woman’s eye, height that was a little above average—but he was glad he’d inherited his mother’s hazel eyes.
    Woodland eyes, she called them, because they were a brown-flecked green. Sometimes he wondered if, when she looked at him, she saw only a younger version of his father. At least when she looked at his eyes, she had to know there was a part of her in him, as well.
    “Good morning, Mother,” Liam said. He glanced at the tray on the table near the sofa and instantly became wary. The tea, thin sandwiches, and pastries weren’t unusual fare for a midmorning chat, but the decanter of whiskey was definitely out of place. Elinore didn’t approve of indulging in strong drink, especially so early in the day. That she’d arranged for the decanter to be here meant she thought one of them would need something more potent than tea to get through this conversation.
    Turning away from the window, Elinore offered him a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Liam. Thank you for taking time out of your day to meet with me.”

    Heat washed through his body, a sure sign that his temper was rising. Making an effort to keep his voice calm, he replied, “Thanks aren’t necessary. You’re my mother. My being the baron now doesn’t change that.” At least, he hoped it didn’t.
    “No, but... it does change some