The Pillars Of The World

command when the only things she could speak intelligently about were weaving and gardens?
    Loyalty? If that was so important to her, he could promise her a kind of loyalty. He could certainly pledge that he would never seek another human female’s company. What he did when he visited other Clans—and he would since he was the Lightbringer— was none of the girl’s business. And since she wouldn’t know what took place in Tir Alainn, it would never trouble her.
    Love? A bard’s word to pretty up the truth between men and women. Passion burned bright and hot, but it never burned long. Affection truly was a kinder emotion than this . . . love.
    Ari might grieve for a little while once she realized she had to give up her girlhood notion about love, but once she was over it, she would come to appreciate the companionship—and pleasure—he offered.
    Lucian headed for the entrance to that little garden.
    Soon it would be settled. Ari would stay at Brightwood—and stay with him. And Neall . . . Lucian thought about the Gatherer and smiled. And Neall would be gone.
    As soon as Neall spotted the sun stallion, he ran to meet Ari.
    “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously, pulling her into his arms and holding on tight.
    “I’m fine, Neall,” Ari said, rubbing his back to comfort him. “Truly.”
    “When it took you so long to get here, we thought—” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t put into words what he’d feared because, somehow, that might make it come true.
    “It wasn’t long. I had to wait for the biscuits.”
    Neall stiffened. He leaned back and stared at her in disbelief. “Biscuits?”
    “I thought they would be more practical than bread and stay fresher so that we could—”
    “You baked biscuits?”
    Ari’s mouth began to set in that stubborn line he knew well. Ignoring it, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward Ahern’s house. “Let’s just see what Ahern has to say about this.”
    “Neall!”
    The sun stallion snorted, stamped one foot in warning.
    “Back off,” Neall snapped. “If she was one of your mares, you’d nip her for this.”
    Ahern was pacing the yard, looking grim enough to subdue even the stubbornest witch.
    “She was baking biscuits,” Neall said as soon as he was close enough he didn’t have to shout. Although he was shouting loud enough to have several of the men peer around the buildings to see what was going on.
    “Neall!” Ari pulled back, digging in her heels.
    As Neall turned, the sun stallion butted him hard enough to break his hold on Ari’s wrist. He and Ari ended up sitting in the dirt, staring at each other between the legs of an angry horse.
    Another horse snorted. The sun stallion bolted a short distance, then reared.
    Neall looked over his shoulder. Not another horse, but someone no horse would disobey.
    “That one must have a bit of the dark horse bloodline in him,” Ahern said. “They aren’t cowed by anything.” He walked over to Ari and held out a hand to help her up. “Biscuits are a fine idea. With some cheese and some of that jam you make, it’ll do for a midday meal tomorrow.”
    “That’s exactly what I thought,” Ari grumbled, brushing herself off.
    “But the boy’s been worried about you—and he has reason. The Black Coats have arrived in Ridgeley.”
    Ari paled.
    Neall scrambled to his feet. It hurt to see her eyes so full of fear, but he couldn’t afford to make it sound like something they could dismiss.
    “Now,” Ahern said, sounding calm but implacable. “You’re going to stay here. Neall will go to Brightwood for your things. When he returns, the two of you are leaving. The horses are fresh, and that will give you hours of daylight to put some distance between you and the Black Coats.”
    “I can’t leave yet,” Ari protested. Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t . I’m not ready. I haven’t said goodbye.”
    “Ari, there’s no time,” Neall snapped.

    She looked at both of them, her hands spread in appeal. “I’ll run back. It won’t take long. But I need to do this.”
    Neall wanted to scream. She hadn’t seen those men. She hadn’t felt those men. How could he make her understand? “By the Mother’s tits, Ari—”
    “Don’t you speak of the Mother that way!”
    “—who is there to say goodbye to?” Neall demanded. “Morag? If she’s there when I get there, I’ll tell her. If not, when you don’t return, like as not she’ll come here and Ahern can tell her.”
    Ari looked