The Pillars Of The World

little of anything besides her weaving and her garden and her magic. I could show her the stories and the music, talk to her about other things.”
    “Be a mentor as well as a lover?” Dianna asked softly.
    “What’s wrong with that? Why should she settle for some rutting human who will roll on top of her, pump his hips a few times, then roll back off, when I can give her pleasure? Why should she grow old while she
    ’s still so young because she’s always working?”
    Dianna frowned. “Then why weren’t you there tonight to be a lover?”
    Lucian sprang up from the window seat. “Because she won’t be with me until she’s decided what to do about him . Only a dog should have that kind of loyalty.”
    The words hung in the air.
    “If she chooses you, how long would this arrangement last?” Dianna asked cautiously.
    “As long as it pleases both of us.”
    “What if she wants children?”
    Re shuddered—and she quietly sighed in relief.
    “My children, when I have them, will be Fae,” he said quietly. “I am the Lightbringer. I can accept no less.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I want to be with her because I care. But we also need to keep Ari away from anyone who might turn her against us.”
    “Agreed. We need to protect her for her own sake as well as for ours.” She had a name for that lout who wanted to marry Ari. But that wasn’t something she was going to share with Lucian just yet. Not until she knew what Ari decided.
     

 

     
     

Chapter Twenty-five

 

     
     

     
    After bedding down Darcy, Neall lingered in the stables.
    Was there anything lonelier than being surrounded by people and still feeling alone? If he could have, he would have gone to Brightwood to celebrate the Solstice with Ari, to see the dance he vaguely remembered his mother performing, to feel the magic flowing to a living focal point and then spilling out over the land again.
    It had been prudent to go with Baron Felston and the others to the village’s Midsummer feast; tomorrow he would ride over to Brightwood and see if Ari had reached a decision. Then, one way or another, he had plans to make.
    Not much longer, Neall assured himself as he walked to the house. He would never again have to celebrate the Solstice in Ridgeley. The village’s Midsummer feast used to be a joyful time, a promising beginning for the young couples who chose to be wed that day. For the young men and women who willingly had clasped hands and pledged themselves to each other, it was still a golden day, and the way those women had looked at their new husbands had made him ache to hold Ari. But he’d noticed that none of the gentry couples had looked at their life partners with that same joy and anticipation. He suspected that, for them, the days between the full moon and the dark had been more than enough time for them to grow tired of each other. The ones who had pledged themselves in marriage had done so because a Summer Moon child was on the way—but it was status and property settlements that were the real enticements in accepting the “yoke of marriage.” Better to marry an heir than a second son you actually loved. Better to marry the daughter of a gentleman, even if she felt nothing but contempt for you because you were slightly beneath her own social status, than a merchant’s daughter who admired you.
    Neall opened the front door and stepped into the hallway. Odella had been acting vile for the past several days, but at least they’d been spared—
    “ You slut !” Royce’s shout came from Baron Felston’s study.
    Neall didn’t hesitate. He ran to the study and pushed the door open.
    Baron Felston and Royce stood in front of the chair where Odella cringed yet still managed to look defiant. Felston’s wife stood to one side, looking at her daughter with undisguised contempt.
    “You shame your family because you think you’re above custom and tradition?” Felston roared. “You had the chance to do what was proper. Even as late as this morning, something could have been arranged. A babe that comes early to a Midsummer marriage isn’t considered early at all. No one counts the months on their fingers or smirks behind their hands. Neither family has its reputation smeared or loses any of its standing in the community. But a marriage that takes place even a week later is quite a different thing.”
    Odella’s lips trembled, but her voice was sharp enough. “I told you. I can’t marry him.”
    “You