The Pillars Of The World

bolts, he opened the front door. The storm had long passed. Had, in fact, barely lasted through the meal, but he doubted Ari had realized that.
    Where had she put the rest of his clothes? he wondered as he closed the door and moved to the back of the cottage. He studied the clean kitchen. And where had she put the rest of the food?
    When a quick rummage through various cupboards didn’t yield a pot of hot tea, bowls of stew, or cheese, he opened the large wooden box sitting on the work-table and found the bread as well as the biscuits he had brought. He took a biscuit and bit into it, then made a face. For some reason, they didn’t taste as good here as they did in Tir Alainn. He rummaged a bit more in the box, hoping he’d find something more than was apparently there. Like some of those cakes Ari had brought to the beach.
    He could wake her. She would want tea if she was awake, wouldn’t she? And if she was awake, she wouldn’t mind fixing something for him to eat.
    He was standing outside the bedroom door when it occurred to him that he still had the custom of gifting to deal with. A satisfied lover may want something very different from a sleepy, disgruntled woman who was expected to cook breakfast. It would be wiser to settle the gift before mentioning food.
    He suspected the rules regarding the fancy gave him every right to ignore the custom of gifting, but he had enjoyed Ari far more than he’d expected to, and a gift would make her more eager for his return.
    Because he was going to return. She was his from the full moon to the dark, and he intended to enjoy her while he could.

    And he wanted breakfast.
    Entering the bedroom, he sat on the bed. She still slept, snuggled under the covers. He reached out to touch her shoulder and give her a little shake into wakefulness, but his hand kept going until it could stroke her hair.
    “Mmmmff,” she said sleepily. “Did the birds tell you it was time?”
    Time for what? “The birds?”
    Her nods pressed her face deeper into the pillows, and he wondered if she’d slip back into a deep sleep before he could talk to her.
    “Birds always know when it’s time,” Ari said after a minute of silence. “As soon as the light begins to change, you can hear the soft chirps, as if they’re encouraging the sun to rise.” With a sigh, she snuggled deeper under the covers. “Or maybe they’re encouraging you.”
    “I don’t need help from the birds in order to rise,” Lucian said dryly. There was too much temptation to get back into bed and show her another kind of sunrise. But what she was saying bothered him. Surely she didn’t think . . . “You do know that I don’t really lift the sun above the horizon, don’t you? It can do that just fine by itself.”
    “Oh, that’s good,” Ari mumbled. “I’d always wondered what would happen if you overslept. But the birds would wake you.”
    Lucian studied her for a moment, then shook his head. Either she was too sleepy or he was too awake for this conversation to make sense.
    “Ari?”
    “Mmmmff.”
    “It is the custom that when a man enjoys a woman’s company, he gives her a gift to show his appreciation.”
    “Gift?” She frowned for a moment, then smiled. “A present?”
    “Yes,” Lucian said, his patience strained. “A present.”
    Ari sighed. “No one’s given me a present since my mother died.”
    Lucian sat back, no longer sure what to do. He’d intended to suggest a couple of things from the Clan’s large trinket box, things that would require no effort for him to provide. He hadn’t found human women tempting enough to often yield to their enchantments, but from what other Fae males had said, those women were a bit like crows—they liked shiny objects. Since the gold, silver, and jewelry usually found its way back to a Clan trinket box, even if it wasn’t the same trinket box, there was nothing there that hadn’t been given before.
    He’d known there was no one else in the cottage last night, but he’d assumed they were simply somewhere else for the day. There was so much presence in this place that it hadn’t occurred to him that she was truly alone here. Knowing that, and knowing how much a gift now would disappoint or delight, he had an obligation to give her what she asked for, no matter how greedy the request might be.
    Leaning closer, he said, “What kind of present would you like?”

    “I get to choose?”
    “Yes, you get to choose.”
    She smiled. “Sunshine.”
    He