The Pillars Of The World

the dance,” Ari said. She looked out at the meadow and the softening daylight. “It’s time.”
    Dianna tensed when Ari stood up and walked to a spot in the meadow that was parallel to a brazier filled with kindling. When they’d come outside after dinner, she’d noticed the small circle of stones that formed the fire pit that held the brazier, but thought nothing of it.
    For a full minute, Ari just stood there. When she took the first step, the small man began to beat the drum. The other drummer joined him. When she’d taken half a dozen steps, Ari made a quarter turn so that she faced the brazier. She raised her arms, her hands curling as if she were clasping two other dancers’ hands on either side of her. Crossover step, crossover step, turn to face forward, step one, two, three, then turn back to face the center of the circle. Crossover step, crossover step, turn to face forward, step one, two, three, then turn back to face the center of the circle.
    Not a circle , Dianna decided when Ari reached the point where she had started. A spiral dance that will end right at that brazier. And then what will happen ?
    Her feet tingled. At first, she ignored it. When she saw Lyrra jerk her feet off the ground, she pulled her attention away from Ari to look at the rest of the Fae. Lucian was pale and had his hands clenched.
    Aiden was holding his harp so tightly his knuckles were white. Falco looked scared. And Lyrra kept shifting around in her chair, as if she could no longer sit still.
    The tingling got worse, as if her feet were in some odd kind of river.
    It is a river , Dianna thought, focusing on the dance that spiraled closer and closer to its end. A river of magic. She’s drawing all the magic in Brightwood into that spiral .
    There was no wind, but the air seemed to be in motion—and she would swear that something in the air sparkled as it moved toward the dance.
    She glanced at the Small Folk. They weren’t alarmed by what was happening while Ari danced.
    By the time Ari reached the brazier and stood quietly before it, everything felt like it was in motion.
    Ari pointed at the brazier. The kindling inside it burst into flames. “We give thanks for the branch of fire.
    It is the Mother’s heart, and like all passions, it can warm or it can burn.” She picked up a goblet beside the fire pit and slowly poured the water inside it onto the ground. “We give thanks for the branch of water. It is the Mother’s tears, shed in laughter and in pain.” She raised her arms until they formed curves over her head. “We give thanks for the branch of air. It is the Mother’s breath.” She moved her arms closer until her fingertips touched. “We give thanks for the branch of earth. It is the Mother’s body and gives us life. May Her blessings be bountiful.”

    As Ari slowly opened her arms, Dianna felt the surge of released power. It rose high in the air, arced, then flowed in ripples that spread and spread and spread until they would reach every stone, every tree, every nook and cranny within the boundaries of Brightwood.
    The drumming stopped.
    The Small Folk were smiling.
    Looking weary but content, Ari smiled back at them. “May the Mother bless your days,” she said.
    “And yours, Mistress Ari,” one of the small men said. Giving the Fae a wary glance, he and the others walked across the meadow and disappeared into the woods.
    Dianna sat there, knowing she would have to say something—the right something—when Ari rejoined them. She had no idea what that might be. Only one thought kept circling in her head: she hadn’t realized just how powerful the witches truly were, hadn’t realized how much power Ari had. If the girl gathered that much magic and released it toward a target . . .
    Was that what had happened to the roads through the Veil? That much power would certainly tear it away from whatever anchored it to the human world. They had known the witches were somehow connected to losing pieces of Tir Alainn. But Ari had seemed harmless, ineffective.
    She wasn’t harmless. Now they had proof of just how powerful a witch could be. Had Lucian known that?
    Dianna slanted a look at her brother.
    No, Lucian hadn’t known.
    Now, more than ever, they needed to make sure Ari was a friend to the Fae—or they needed to make sure she could do no harm.
    She didn’t want to think about that possibility. Not right now.
    When Ari sank into the chair beside hers, Dianna still didn’t know what to