Shadows and Light

saddled the Inquisitors’ horses and tied the still-sleeping men over the saddles.
    “Come,” Ashk said, leading Morphia out of the cottage. “We’ll take you up to the Clan house where you can eat and rest. I’ll send someone to tell Morag you’re here, but I think she’ll stay at the cottage tonight.
    ”
    Morphia stopped walking. “Morag is here? She’s staying with your Clan?”
    “No, she’s not actually staying with us.”
    A skim of ice came over Morphia’s eyes. “Because she’s shunned by the Clans. If you don’t want her, you don’t want me. Just tell me where to find her.”
    So much anger and bitterness in those words. Because of that, Ashk swallowed the urge to snap to her Clan’s defense. “Morag is welcome to stay with us, but when Neall and Ari asked her to live with them, that was her choice.”
    The ice in Morphia’s eyes thawed. “Ari? Neall? She’s all right? They’re all right?”
    “They’re fine, and she’s round with their first babe.”
    Morphia looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
    “Don’t be sorry. You had no reason to think otherwise. But”—Ashk gave Morphia an odd smile—“as the rest of the Fae have so often remarked, we’re different here in the west.”
    One of the huntsmen stayed with Jana, the healer—and to keep watch over Barry’s family. Another rode off to tell the other son what had happened. The rest of them rode back to the Clan house.
    Ashk reined in beside a narrow forest trail. “How close do you have to be to wake them?” she asked, tipping her head toward the Inquisitors.
    “Not that close,” Morphia replied.
    Ashk nodded. “My men will take you up to the Clan house. When you get there, wake these two.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    Ashk looked Morphia in the eyes and said softly, “Don’t ask questions.”
    When Morphia rode off, Ashk held up a hand to hold back the last escort. “You know where we’ll be?”
    “I know.”
    “Then meet us there. And bring the bread.”
    She turned her horse to the narrow forest trail, the men leading the Inquisitors’ horses riding behind her.

    She was aware of the old stag following them and had a moment’s regret that he would see her this way.
    There was nothing clean or honorable in what she was about to do—but she was going to do it. Not even her grandfather’s opinion, or her Clan’s— or Padrick’s, if it came to that—would stop her.
    Death called her.
    Morag flew as fast as she could, already knowing she was too late to stop whatever she would find at the cottage. Death had come.
    As she flew over the trees and reached the open land around the cottage, she saw Ari on her knees in her kitchen garden, her arms around a blood-spattered Merle. She saw the savaged body of a man, his fire-blackened hand still clutching a knife. She didn’t think Ari could see the ghost shaking a clenched fist and silently shouting at her, but the fact that the shadow hound kept snarling convinced her that Merle knew something was still there.
    She saw Neall running toward the kitchen garden, shouting Ari’s name. His left sleeve was soaked with blood, and he held it tight to his body as he ran.
    Glenn stood near the stables, holding a pitchfork, the dark mare and her new foal behind him. Nearby, Shadow, the dark horse she had given to Neall, kept bugling angrily as his hooves came down again and again on the man he’d already lolled.
    She called to the horse, a caw that was more a command than comfort. He broke off the attack, but continued trotting around the body in a wide circle, ready to attack again. He wouldn’t fear the ghost beside the body. He’d been her companion for too long and had seen too many ghosts to fear one.
    She felt a bittersweet pang at his response to her command, but that was the way with the dark horses.
    He remembered her, but his loyalty belonged to Neall now, and only Neall’s assurance that they were safe would calm him.
    She circled back to the kitchen garden. Neall had scrambled over the garden wall and was on his knees, holding Ari with his good arm. Merle stood in front of them, still snarling and focused on the ghost.
    She landed on the garden wall, changed to her human form, and lightly jumped down into the garden.
    She winced at the sight of the trampled plants—and wondered if Ari would be able to eat the food that would grow in the blood-soaked earth.
    Morag shook her head. Flesh was just flesh. Meat that returned to the Great