The House Of Gaian

formed a broken half circle behind them, leaving an open path directly behind where Ashk stood.
    A way to escape? Morag wondered. A step to the side, and the men in the front row would block the path. As she glanced back, she caught a glimpse of arrows loosely nocked in bows among the men in the second row of the half circle. One step to the side, and the front row of men would give their comrades the opening needed to fire on the enemy.
    Except the only other people here were also Fae.
    She opened herself to her gift—and heard Death whisper.
    Ashk?
    She thought she’d spoken out loud, but she couldn’t be sure. She was certain Ashk hadn’t heard her, since the Hunter kept moving forward to stand alone and face the young Lords of the Woods, who were backed by their own half circle of Fae from the residing Clan.
    As one of the Lords of the Woods stepped forward in challenge, Morphia gasped, “Cullan.”
    Morag clamped down on her temper. Cullan had been Morphia’s lover last summer. Her lover, but he didn’t love her. She would have been his excuse to leave his home Clan, who disapproved of going down to the human world more than was necessary. Not an easy Clan for a Lord of the Woods, since there were no woods in Tir Alainn.
    Not that it mattered anymore. She’d been there when the shining road had closed, and she, Morphia, Cullan, and a few other Fae she’d been able to force down the road with her had escaped before the road closed completely, trapping the rest of the Fae in the mist that had rolled in to shroud that Clan’s piece of Tir Alainn.
    Because of Cullan, Sheridan had worked hard to convince Morphia that he wanted to be more than a mere bed-warmer.
    Now she looked at Cullan’s angry face. A tool for the lesson? Mother’s mercy, Ashk. What kind of lesson ?
    Death whispered.
    “I am the Hunter.” Ashk’s voice rang clearly in the morning air.
    “A deceiver!” Cullan spat out the words.
    Ashk smiled.
    Morag shivered.
    “Did I deceive the Lords of the Woods into believing I was male?” Ashk said mildly. “Yes, I did. But the time for mat deception is over. Did I deceive you into believing I’m the Hunter?” She shook her head. “
    Oh, no, young Lord. I am the Hunter. The gift is mine, and I command the woods and all that lives there.
    Wherever the woods resides.”
    “Perhaps you were able to wrest the power from the old Lord of the Woods all those years ago, but you should have offered a time for challenge after that so that a man worthy of commanding the gift could ascend.”
    “Like you?” Ashk said softly. “There are Ladies of the Woods. They command the gift just as well as the Lords.”
    “But none of them had the audacity to pretend to be the Lord of the Woods.”

    “I pretend nothing. My sex doesn’t matter. Whether I’m the Green Lord or the Green Lady doesn’t matter. What matters is I am the Hunter.”
    “A title gained through deception!”
    Ashk shook her head slowly. “Kernos knew who I was, and what I was, and what I am . That is why he trained me.”
    A ripple of uneasiness went through the Fae who stood behind the Lords of the Woods—and among the Lords as well. Except Cullan, who was now red-faced with anger.
    Ashk asked quietly, “Do you understand who the Hunter is, young Lord? What the Hunter is? Do you understand what I can do?”
    Cullan stared at her defiantly. “What can you do?”
    “Destroy the Fae.”
    Silence.
    “I am the Green Lord and the Hunter. I command, I rule, I harvest... wherever the woods resides.” Ashk smiled gently. “You still don’t understand.” She removed the hunting horn from its place on her belt, raised it to her lips, and blew one soft, long note.
    Morag felt a queer tickle in her chest.
    Ashk blew another note, louder this time, more commanding.
    The tickle became a fluttering. A desperate fluttering of wings, as if the raven, which was her other form, was trying to break free of her to answer the command in that one note.
    Looking around to see if she was the only one who felt it, she saw Aiden with his fists pressed against his chest as if he were trying to hold something in, a look of understanding and horror on his face. Lyrra was curled up on the ground, weeping.
    Morag stared at Ashk. Wherever the woods resides . Mother’s mercy!
    Morphia was hunched over, her arms crossed over her chest, panting. Sheridan supported her, looking grim.
    Morag looked to her left, at the western huntsmen. Hard eyes. Grim