The House Of Gaian

voice. Nothing.
    Selena moved away to the window, leaving Ashk standing at the foot of Nuala’s bed.
    “Is Breanna right?” Ashk asked. “Did the girl put something in the tea, intending mischief but resulting in this?”
    “I don’t know,” Selena replied, moving the curtain enough to watch the people milling around on the back lawn. “I stayed away from the girl as much as possible.”
    “Why?”
    She let the curtain fall and turned to face Ashk. “Because every time I saw her, I wanted to change into a shadow hound and tear her throat out.”
    Ashk stared at her. No revulsion, no criticism in that look. Just assessment.
    Finally, Ashk stepped away from the bed and blew out a breath. “If your instincts were that strong, the girl’s lucky to be alive.”
    “And I’m wondering if I have reason to regret not following that instinct.”
    Now Ashk’s look sharpened. “Don’t think that way. If we find proof that Nuala’s death was not natural, then we’ll deal with it. But you and I can’t afford to be swayed by Breanna’s grief. We hold too much power, Huntress. When we pass judgment, there is no turning back.”
    “I know.” Selena looked away.
    Ashk raked a hand through her short hair. “Besides, we have a more immediate problem. At this time of year, it’s too warm to let the body remain above ground while people call to pay their respects. We have to give Nuala back to the Great Mother.”
    Selena nodded. “Breanna will choose the place.”
    “And we’ll have to have watchfires around it at night. And guards. Fae who have good night vision in their other forms, archers who can shoot clean in the dark. And someone there with the gift of fire.”
    She shook her head, puzzled.
    “There are nighthunters still out there, Selena,” Ashk said with biting patience. “They don’t just devour flesh and blood. They feast on the spirits of the dead. There aren’t any Fae here who are Death’s Servants. They’ve all headed north or south since that’s where the fighting is. I’ve sent a call to have some of them return here, or have some from the midlands join us here, but until there’s one of them among us who can take Nuala’s spirit up the road to the Shadowed Veil, she is still prey for those creatures. So we have guards. We keep watch. We protect our dead until they are safely out of reach.”

    A chill went through Selena. “The men who made the first attack on Baron Liam’s estate. Their ... ghosts
    ... might still be there?”
    “Where the bodies are buried, yes.”
    “But there’s no way to tell?”
    “Not until one of Death’s Servants—or the Gatherer—joins us.” Ashk paused. “Would it ease your mind if we put guards around those graves as well?”
    Selena hesitated, then shook her head. “We can’t risk too many of the living when the battle is still ahead.
    There will be more dead before this is done.”
    “Yes,” Ashk said quietly, “there will be.”
    Jean ran across the bridge that spanned Willow’s Brook, then stopped, no longer sure where to go. Her first thought had been to run to Baron Liam’s house and tell Lady Elinore how mean Breanna had been to her. But Elinore would want to know why Breanna had gotten angry. If she lied, Elinore would know, and if she told the truth, Elinore would forget all about her and hurry to the Old Place to comfort Breanna.
    She headed for the field, refusing to even look in the direction of the baron’s house.
    For a moment, there in the kitchen, she’d thought Liam was protecting her from Breanna’s vicious attack.
    But, no, he just wanted to comfort that... bitch .
    It was always Breanna. Mean, nasty, spiteful Breanna. Always wanting her to do chores . As if she were some servant . And here she was, walking through these fields wearing her best dress— which she’d spent hours pressing because Nuala had refused to order one of the other women to do it. So she was ruining her best dress and hadn’t even gotten the chance to let the Bard see how pretty she was and so much more interesting than that homely red-haired woman he was sleeping with. How could he want to sleep with a woman who looked like that?
    He hadn’t noticed her because Breanna had to grab everyone’s attention. Poor, poor Breanna. Nobody was saying poor Jean, were they?
    And it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t meant to hurt Nuala, but the old woman had been so mean about the dress that she’d wanted to get even. Just a little. It had been so