The Pillars Of The World

doing that task, so they must have asked someone. Who would a family of witches ask? Certainly no one in Ridgeley. Ahern? But he’d already fixed the door.
    She couldn’t ask him for more help without being able to give something in return. Neall? He was usually willing to help with small things when Baron Felston wasn’t filling his days with so many chores he barely had time to breathe. But Neall. . . There were reasons why she was reluctant to ask Neall.
    After adding some wood to the coals, Ari put the kettle on the stove to heat. Opening a cupboard, she took down a cup. Her hand hovered in front of the jars beside the cups before she chose the one that contained the special blend of herbs.
    She could accurately gauge her fertile days by subtle changes in her body. The day before the Summer Moon should have been the last of them, but there was no reason to take chances. Drinking a cup of tea made from these herbs for another couple of days was a sensible precaution—a precaution she’d been taking every month since her mother died. It wasn’t fear that some man might force himself on her that made her diligent about drinking the tea, although the way Royce and some of his friends had been looking at her lately made her uneasy. It was herself she feared, that she might yield to loneliness or her body’s own romantic yearnings on a day when the consequences might be more costly than a few minutes of pleasure.
    There were times when she thought it would be wonderful to have a daughter to love and share the world with. There were more days, especially lately, when she was glad it was unlikely that she would ever carry a child. Her daughter would be as much of an outsider in Ridgeley as she was and would be just as unwelcome. The joy of caring for Brightwood couldn’t mask loneliness, and there were times when even the joy felt like a burden. This land was her heritage and her duty, but someone besides the daughter-who-never-would-be would have to take up the mantle once she was gone.
    So it was sensible to drink the herb tea for a couple more days to ensure as much as possible that she wouldn’t conceive.
    But . . . Perhaps Lucian would like a child?
    Shaking her head, Ari made her tea. Leaving it on the worktable to steep, she took a pitcher of water and the kettle into the washroom, filled the basin, and took a quick sponge bath.
    A child was a dangerous thought because it was appealing. But not appealing enough. Oh, Lucian had been a splendid lover and had proved beyond her hopes that not all men were like Royce. Just the thought of what his hands and mouth had done to her made her feel fluttery inside. But that didn’t mean he would welcome a child that had been created with a witch. Besides, he would be gone by the dark of the moon—or even sooner, since her courses might start before then.
    “And for all you know, he could already have a wife and children,” Ari muttered as she returned to the kitchen to drink her tea. Married men weren’t supposed to accept an invitation made during the Summer Moon, but plenty of them did. Why should the Fae be any different?
    “Because you don’t want him to be so ... common, so much like Royce or Baron Felston or any of the other gentry in Ridgeley. You want his heart to hold the leash on his loins.” Ari cut a slice of bread and spread jam over it. “Even if he does have a wife, accepting the fancy and coming here last night was his choice.” But it would be a bitter discovery if she found out he had a wife he should have been loyal to.
    Neall certainly wouldn’t approve of her welcoming a married man into her bed, whether the Fae lived by a different moral code or not.
    Sighing, Ari drank her tea. Leaving the bread on the worktable, she went to her bedroom to get dressed.
    In some ways, Neall was as much of an outsider in Ridgeley as she was. Maybe that’s why, as children, they had become friends. Were still friends, even though she didn’t see much of him anymore. He seemed more . . . cautious . . . about being around her now.
    “Which is neither here nor there,” Ari told herself firmly. “He doesn’t have any right to tell you what to do with your life or whose company you can or can’t enjoy.”

    Since the words didn’t sound indifferent when spoken out loud, Ari clamped her teeth together. She could deny it as much as she liked, but what Neall thought did matter. Just as what Ahern thought mattered. Maybe because they were the only people