The Pillars Of The World

“That’s also the Lightbringer’s Clan.”
    Even the Huntress and the Lightbringer wouldn’t dare dismiss the Gatherer. After all, the day will come when I’ll extend my hand to them.
    “You’re going there, aren’t you?” Morphia asked.
    “Yes, I’m going there. To talk to them and the Bard.”
    “You’re tired, Morag,” Morphia said quietly, worriedly. “Won’t you stay a few days more and rest?”
    A shiver of something she didn’t want to name brushed down Morag’s spine as a shadow fell across her sister’s face. It was a shadow she knew well. It wasn’t so dark that it was a certainty, but it was a warning that couldn’t be ignored.
    “Yes, I’ll stay a few more days.”
    Morphia squeezed her sister’s arm. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”
    Nothing and no one could compel her to leave while she saw that shadow on Morphia’s face. Perhaps by being here she could prevent the warning from becoming a certainty. So she would stay. But she doubted she would find any rest.
    Morphia said, “If you’d like, we can find Cullan and talk to him. I think he’s listened to more of the travelers’ tales than the others did. He might be able to tell you something.”
    “Thank you,” Morag said. She would listen to whatever Cullan had to tell her, but she was becoming more and more certain that the answers the Fae needed most would not be found in Tir Alainn.
     

 

     
     

Chapter Sixteen

 

     
     

     
    Ari sat on the bench beside the kitchen door, her back resting against the cottage wall, a cup of tea cooling beside her. Birds fluttered a few feet away, snatching small pieces of bread she had tossed out to them, then flying back to their nests.
    She would have to bake today. The garden needed watering. The bed linens needed to be changed, and washing needed to be done. There was no wind this morning, no breeze coming up from the sea to soften the heat she could already feel against her skin. Best to get the chores done early. Especially today.
    She sat on the bench, drinking her tea and watching the birds.
    There would be no child. She hadn’t wanted one, had hoped she would be spared. Still, the intensity of her relief when she discovered her bleeding time had come had surprised her. Perhaps if her mother and grandmother were still alive, she would have welcomed a child by Lucian. He made her body weak with hunger for the pleasure she knew would come when he touched her, made it sizzle with need while he prepared her for the mounting. Wasn’t that how a woman should feel when she took a lover’s seed and transformed it into life? And where would a woman find a more splendid sire for her child than the Lightbringer?
    And yet, she was relieved his seed hadn’t taken root. Lucian was a wonderful lover, but . . .
    “When that fire doesn’t burn, it gives no warmth,” she told a bold sparrow that had fluttered up to the bench, looking for more bread. “The only time he spends with me outside of bed is when I put out something to eat. He’s polite. I’ll grant him that. He asked about the garden, about the weaving he’s seen on the looms, but he’s only listening enough not to be caught out. He’s not really interested in my life, and he never talks about his own. If there’s any truth to the stories, he lives in a Clan with other Fae. But he doesn’t mention them, either. The only part of his life he wants me to know about is the part I can wrap my hand around.”
    Ari sipped her tea. The sparrow, giving up, flew off to find its breakfast elsewhere.
    “He gives me trinkets instead of any part of himself. Expensive trinkets, but they don’t mean anything to him, which is why he gives them. Perhaps that’s all Fae males ever give females who aren’t of their kind.
    Or, perhaps, that’s all they’re capable of giving anyone.”
    Swallowing the rest of her tea, she got up to take care of the chores.
    As she worked throughout the morning, two thoughts chased each other: How did women tell men about the bleeding time . . . and would Lucian be willing to spend time with her, just to be with her, now that he couldn’t have the bed?
    Not one of my better times , Ari thought later that afternoon while she sat on the bench and brushed her hair, which was still damp from the cool bath she’d taken. Every chore had taken her twice as long as usual; the heat had sapped her energy until she wanted to weep from fatigue, and even the special herb tea she’d