The House Of Gaian

drink it.”
    Ashk sat across from her. “That’s understandable.” She reached for Fiona’s hand. “I’m sorry to force something else on you, but it’s a decision I can’t make. We found a scent in one of the fields on Liam’s estate. I also picked up the scent of nighthunters. I won’t send men into those fields in the dark, Fiona.
    That I won’t do. But I’ll send pairs of riders out on the roads to the neighboring farms and estates and to the village to find out if anyone has seen her.”
    “You’d send men out on dark roads for Jean?”
    “No. I’d do it for you. For Breanna.”
    The kitchen door opened. Selena walked in, closed the door, and came to stand near the table.
    Fiona took a long swallow of whiskey. Then she pulled a bundled handkerchief out of her pocket. “After you left, I searched the drawers Jean was given for her clothes. I found this, tucked in the back of one drawer under the camisoles. I can’t identify everything she collected during her forays in the woods and through the gardens, but I do recognize foxglove. So, no, Ashk, I don’t want you to send your men out on dark roads to search for Jean. Because Breanna was right. If this is what was in the tea, then Jean did kill Nuala.”

 

     
     

Chapter 41

 

     
     

     
    full moon
     
    Ashk doesn’t avoid being around the gentry because they’re human , Morag thought sourly as Padrick escorted her off the ship. She avoids them so she doesn‘t have to dress like a ... lady . “I feel
    —”
    “Lovely?” Padrick asked innocently.
    “Foolish.”
    “But you look lovely. And that split skirt with matching jacket and linen shirt is both practical and stylish.”
    Morag slanted a look at him. “You’ve had this argument with Ashk, haven’t you?”
    “Me? Never. But her lady’s maid has had this ... discussion ... with Ashk on several occasions and then vented her frustration over my wife’s stubbornness to my valet, who, of course, tells me everything. So I’
    m kept informed without ever becoming involved. An ideal solution for a husband when it comes to such matters.”
    No doubt that explained the woman’s delight—and the trunk of clothes borrowed from Ashk’s wardrobe—when Padrick asked Ashk’s lady’s maid to accompany them on the voyage. The fiend now had a captive female to play with—a female who didn’t know enough about gentry ways to argue when told “this is what’s done in a gentry household.” Remembering the twinkle in Padrick’s eyes every time she stepped out of the ship’s cabin after submitting to another change of clothes and restyling of her hair, she suspected gentry ladies didn’t usually change outfits four or five times a day—especially when they weren’t going anywhere.
    As if he could hear her thoughts, Padrick patted the arm linked through his. “You do look lovely, Morag.

    You could pass for a gentle gentry lady.”
    Morag snorted. “How many gentle gentry ladies do you know who ride a dark horse?”
    “That’s beside the point. With your hair coiled up like that and wearing those clothes, and with the glamour, no one would look at you and realize you were Fae, let alone the Gatherer of Souls.”
    “What I am is not something that should be hidden,” Morag said quietly.
    Padrick’s teasing smile faded. “No,” he replied solemnly. “Ashk can put aside the Hunter because she is also the Green Lady. But you are always the Gatherer.”
    “Yes.” And during the voyage to this harbor town, having the borrowed attention of an attractive, intelligent man, she’d found herself regretting that being Death’s Mistress was all she would be. All she could be. Padrick had been right, though. Sailing to this place had cost her nothing in time and given her the rest she’d badly needed. The greatest blessing had been the dreams. No nightmares of blood and death. No glimpses of an enemy who could destroy those she loved and disappear before she could fight back and protect them. She and the dark horse had simply cantered through green—green woods, green meadows and fields. Not going anywhere, just enjoying the green, the heady sense of life. Those dreams had been as restorative as the sleep at night and the delight during the day of watching the ship dance with the sea.
    But the quiet time was over. Her dark horse and the horses of the two Fae escorts Padrick had insisted go with her were already being led to a nearby inn where they would be saddled and