The House Of Gaian

the midland barons and the Fae leaders, but knowing there were some of those creatures out there wasn’t going to let anyone rest easy—not when there were so many men living out on the land. At least a warning had been sent to the farms nearest the place where Ashk had caught the nighthunters’ scent, and all the camps would post guards to keep watch.
    Aiden found no comfort in the fact that he and Ashk were in the open, or that despite the distance the Fae and humans were giving them for privacy, they were hardly alone. Or unarmed.
    Ashk had her bow and a full quiver, and even in the waning light, he doubted she would miss anything within range of her arrows.
    Still, he shifted again, unable to remain calm when every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made his heart jump.
    As if telling the Hunter what he’d learned about the Inquisitors wasn’t enough to make his heart bounce inside his chest.
    “Well,” Ashk finally said, “that explains, in some part, why the Black Coats hate witches and the Fae as much as they do.”
    “In some part? I think it explains it well enough,” Aiden replied.
    Ashk looked at the land. “No. Only in part, Aiden. When the Fae who had lived in the pieces of Tir Alainn anchored to the Old Places in Wolfram ignored the children they had sired in the human world, it would have created some hardship for those human families—and ill feelings in others. The Fae didn’t understand, or chose to ignore, the consequences of indulging their whims. It changed them, distanced them from the world. But some of the humans must have changed, too, and some of the witches as well.
    Maybe they were too far away from their roots to remember who they were. Maybe they saw what others had and envied it to the point where they could no longer see what they had. Maybe they tried to grasp too hard to gain the thing they desired, and by doing so, pushed it further away. The world is always changing, Bard, and we change with it—even those of us who are firmly rooted in who and what we are. So maybe everything changed in Wolfram, or nothing changed, or the wrong things changed, and a hole full of wanting was created in people’s hearts—and that wanting opened the way for a man like the Master Inquisitor to come into power. We’ll never know what happened in Wolfram. All we can do is take care of what is here.”

    “We have enough reason to regret what we haven’t done here,” Aiden said with a trace of bitterness.
    Ashk turned her head and looked into his eyes. “Do you?”
    Aiden hesitated, then shook his head. “My friends used to tease me, saying that I was too in love with music to taste the other pleasures to be had in the human world.” He smiled self-consciously. “That wasn
    ’t quite true. There were some moonlit walks with pretty maids and sweet kisses. But that was all. When I left a village, the only thing I left with a maid was a song and a memory.” His smile faded. “I’m grateful for that now, grateful I’m not one of the men who has to wonder if he’ll meet a son on that battlefield.
    Even more grateful I don’t have to wonder if a daughter I sired has died under the Black Coats’ hands.
    When this is over, I imagine there will be some Fae men who will travel to a village or an Old Place they haven’t thought of in years. Just to see. Just to know.”
    “And, perhaps, to begin to change things for the better,” Ashk said gently. She sighed and pushed away from the wall. “Come along, Bard. It’s been a long day. Tonight we’ll eat and rest.”
    “And tomorrow?” Aiden asked reluctantly.
    The gentleness drained out of Ashk’s face, reminding him of the mask she’d worn during the Summer Solstice dance. Reminding him of the dance itself—and what it meant.
    “We will do what needs to be done,” the Hunter replied.

 

     
     

Chapter 37

 

     
     

     
    waxing moon
     
    Morag came down the shining road into a world of smoke and flame. The dark horse squealed, then sat back on his haunches, preparing to wheel and take them back to the shining road—and safety.
    She wanted to let him turn back, wanted to escape the heat that made her feel like a dried husk and the air that fouled her lungs and made her choke as she struggled to breathe. But the path of fire was also the Lightbringer’s path, so she dug her heels into the dark horse’s sides, bent low in the saddle, and gasped,
    “Run.”
    He gave her his heart and his courage—and he ran. Trees