The House Of Gaian

do.
    “Would you like company on your ride?” Gwynith asked hesitantly.
    “Are you asking because you’d like to go riding or because you’re afraid some of the Fae here might try to throw me into the mist at the edge of the world?” She’d meant it as a biting tease— until Gwynith’s silence filled the room. The sponge dribbled water down her belly as she turned to face the other woman. “You think that’s possible, don’t you?”
    Gwynith linked her fingers and twisted them. “Many of the Fae are upset that Dianna lost the challenge.
    Especially to someone who isn’t pure Fae.”
    “Like Dianna,” Selena said, knowing by the puzzled look in Gwynith’s eyes that the woman didn’t understand why that was so amusing. “I’d be pleased to have your company on the ride.”
    Gwynith hurried to the door and opened it just enough to stick her head out.
    As Selena finished her quick wash, she heard a quiet rumble of a male voice responding to Gwynith’s murmurs.
    “They’ll bring the horses,” Gwynith said, closing the door. “What do you want to wear?”
    “The white outfit,” Selena replied as she dried herself. The Ladies of the Hearth had done a good job of cleaning the white trousers and overdress yesterday while she’d spent the day trying to get to know the other Ladies of the Moon as well as learn the ways of the Fae.
    Cold, cold eyes.
     
    Selena shivered.
    Just a dream. She was no longer a child. Neither was Rhyann.
    She had to get away from this Clan house. Had to meet the land. That was for herself. But she also wanted to understand why Tir Alainn felt so ... strange.
    By the time she had dressed and they reached one of the outer doors of the Clan house, Gwynith’s four escorts were waiting with the horses. Of course. She should have realized the men would be coming, too.
    As she approached Mistrunner, the stallion snorted to let her know he didn’t approve of having his reins held by a strange man.
    The escort, giving the horse a wary glance, touched two fingers to his temple in greeting, and said, “
    Blessings of the day to you, Lady.”
    Surprised by the greeting, Selena looked at the man more carefully. He seemed tense, uncertain. “
    Blessings of the day,” she replied—and saw him visibly relax. “Did you check Mistrunner’s tack?” She regretted asking. The tension in the man returned, and his mouth was a grim line.
    “I did,” he said.
    Would you have checked it if it was Dianna going out for a ride ? Selena wondered as she mounted Mistrunner. She didn’t think he would have, not because Dianna would have been in no danger from other Fae but because he wouldn’t have cared what happened to the former Lady of the Moon. Which made her wonder why these western Fae were so determined to look after her.
    With effort, she pushed all thoughts aside and focused on the feel of Mistrunner beneath her—and the feel of the land as he lifted into his easy canter. As they left the Clan house behind, his little snorts, tail flicks, and head tosses told her plainly that he didn’t like it here, didn’t like the feel of this ground beneath his hooves, didn’t like grass that looked healthy and green but wasn’t good to eat.
    Why was she so certain the grass wasn’t good to eat? Was it because her own belly had still rumbled with hunger even after she’d eaten a large meal at the Clan house?
    She reined in and dismounted, walked a few steps away from her companions, then crouched to put her hands on the ground. A few moments later, Gwynith crouched beside her.
    “Lady Selena?” Gwynith said.
    Mother’s mercy. Were they all so blind that they couldn’t see what was in front of them? “Is all of Tir Alainn like this?”
    “Like this?” Gwynith looked around. “The Clan territories all look a little different, depending on what part of Sylvalan they’re anchored to.”
    “How does this place look to you?” Selena asked impatiently.
    Gwynith frowned. She considered the question for several seconds before she said, “It feels ... pale. That
    ’s not the right way to say it, but...”
    “It’s a good way to say it. How does it compare to your Clan’s territory?”
    “It’s ... pale.” Gwynith shrugged. “I don’t spend much time in our piece of Tir Alainn, but I don’t remember feeling hungry all the time when I was there. The food here has little taste. At home, you can’t tell the difference between what was grown in Tir Alainn and what was grown in the