Shadows and Light

bruised.
    “I’ll be right back. Just rest.”
    Lyrra leaned back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. She heard quiet sounds, murmuring voices in the kitchen. But not Aiden’s. Why couldn’t she hear Aiden?
    She stirred, almost too weary to make the effort. Wouldn’t have tried at all if she didn’t need to find out about Aiden.
    She turned toward the kitchen door just as Breanna stepped out carrying two tankards and a plate of bread and cheese.
    “Can you walk as far as the tree?” Breanna asked.
    “Aiden?”
    “Gran is taking care of things. She has the touch for it.” She smiled. “And she figures he’ll stay more docile if he doesn’t feel that he has to act manly for your benefit.”
    Lyrra followed Breanna to the bench under the tree.
    “Fresh cider?” Lyrra said after taking a sip from one of the tankards.
    Breanna made a face. “Let’s just say there was an ... incident ... with Idjit and some of the stored apples.
    So there’s plenty of fresh cider and apple tarts.”
    Lyrra started to smile, picturing Breanna dealing with the small black dog, but as she glanced back at the house, the smile faltered.
    “What happened, Lyrra?” Breanna asked softly. “Were you attacked?”
    “No.” Not in the way you mean .
    “Where’s Aiden’s horse?”
    The tears came again. “Gone.”
    “Stolen?”
    Lyrra shook her head. “It fell off the edge of the world.”

    “Mother’s mercy.” Breanna paused. “And everything Aiden was carrying with him was lost with it?”
    “His clothes and personal things, yes.”
    “What about...” Breanna bit her lip. “I wasn’t trying to pry, and I truly didn’t look, but I noticed the papers when I emptied your saddlebags the other day to have the clothes washed. Those were his songs, weren’t they?”
    “Yes.”
    Breanna looked so sad, Lyrra wasn’t sure she could stand it.
    “His songs are gone?” Breanna asked.
    “He still has them. In his h-hands and his heart.” Lyrra gulped, trying to stop the sobs that were swelling in her throat.
    Breanna took the tankard and set it at the end of the bench with her own and the plate. She slid over, gathered Lyrra in her arms. “Cry it out. Gran says sometimes tears are the only way to wash out the heart
    ’s wounds.”
    Lyrra let grief and the terror she’d felt in Tir Alainn flow through the tears. With her head resting on Breanna’s shoulder, she told the witch about the bridge collapsing and her gut-deep fear when Aiden hung there at the edge of the world.
    “He seems like a good man,” Breanna said slowly. “Why would the rest of the Fae do nothing to help him?”
    Lyrra hesitated; then she said carefully, “He believes, as I do, that the witches are the House of Gaian.”
    Breanna shrugged. “Why should that matter to the rest of them? We are the House of Gaian.”
    Lyrra raised her head. Sat up slowly. “You remember that?”
    Breanna tipped her head, obviously puzzled. “We live at the foot of the Mother’s Hills. How could we forget?”
    “Some ... Well, we’ve actually met only one other witch to speak to, and she didn’t know.” Only the Crones in Ari’s family did, after reading the journals of those who had come before them.
    Breanna looked in the direction of the hills. “If they’ve forgotten who they are, what else did they forget?”
    “I don’t know. But Ari... Ari was someone I would have liked to have as a friend. I wish there had been time to know her better.”
    “Where is she?”
    “She’s... She disappeared after the Black Coats came.”
    Breanna sighed. “Well, I’ll mention it to Gran. This may be something the elders should know about—if they don’t already. But that’s for Gran to decide.” She handed the tankard to Lyrra, folded a piece of bread around a slice of cheese. “Here. Have a bite to eat, and drink the cider. Are you tired?” Weary to the marrow of her bones. “I’ll do. Why?” Breanna studied her. “Come spend an hour with me in the garden. I think you need what earth can give.”

    Aiden woke to the cheerful sound of water singing over stone. That made no sense. He was laying in a bed in one of the guest rooms in Nuala’s house—the same room he’d been given before. There wasn’t a brook close to the house, so how could he hear one?
    Turning his head toward the sound, he opened his eyes and stared at the bowl on the table beside the bed. With a few grunts and groans, he managed to sit up and slide his legs over the