The Pillars Of The World

Lucian looked up at the canopy of leaves that spread above his favorite, private place in the Clan gardens.
    It was over, and he hadn’t been ready to see it end. In two days, the promised time would have ended, but he’d thought he’d have these last two days to be with her, to sink into pleasure with her. He thought he’d have that time to delicately persuade her to continue being his lover—despite what Aiden had told him that morning.
    And then he’d spoiled all of it by not paying attention to her mood. No, that wasn’t true. He’d known there was something on her mind. He’d seen it in her face. He hadn’t wanted to hear it, and hoped that whatever it was would go away if he could cloud her mind with sex. He’d misjudged, badly.
    Fae women cloistered during the bleeding time, preferring rest and quiet and privacy in order to tend to things that were not a man’s business. Fae men respected that desire for privacy and stepped back so as not to intrude. That was the way it was done, so he had done the proper thing by retreating.
    But she had invited him to stay—and he almost had. He had no idea if she truly would have welcomed his company or if the invitation had been made out of an obligation to give him time and his presence would have made her uncomfortable. That, as well as custom, was what made him leave.
    He didn’t know her customs. It hadn’t seemed important to ask about them. But that was when he’d thought she was a human female who was just a little more appealing than most of her kind. That was before Aiden told him this morning about the symbol the wiccanfae wore.
    He’d never asked her about the pendant she always wore. He’d been annoyed that she preferred it over the gifts he’d given her, but he’d never asked if it had meaning. Another misjudgment.
    Even knowing she was a witch, and possibly a danger to Tir Alainn, he had gone to be her lover.
    He’d given her no parting gift. What he’d brought wasn’t sufficient for a parting gift. He’d said none of the pretty words that were supposed to be said. With passion and apprehension warring inside him, he’d felt oddly threatened because she suddenly wasn’t interested in him as a lover. He’d let that war of feelings burn through him as anger, and he’d let that anger show. Another mistake. He’d made a lot of them this afternoon.
    But it wasn’t supposed to end today. He hadn’t been ready.
    And now he had to wonder if, by his clumsiness, he had made an enemy who could harm his Clan and Tir Alainn.
    Dianna’s smile of greeting faltered when Lyrra took her arm and hurried her out to the terrace, away from where the other Fae were gathering for the evening meal.
    “Aiden just told me that Lucian is back.” Dianna frowned at Lyrra. “What do you mean, he’s back? He hasn’t come back once before dawn since—” Her throat tightened.
    “I know,” Lyrra said, keeping her voice low. “But he’s back, and he went to that wild spot he likes to go to whenever he’s brooding about something.”
    Mother’s mercy. “Did he say anything to Aiden?”
    Lyrra shook her head. “Aiden did tell him about the pendant this morning. If Lucian’s seen it, he knows Ari is a witch. Maybe, knowing that, he changed his mind and just came back.”
    Or something might have gone very wrong , Dianna thought. He isn’t foolish. He wouldn’t have confronted her about being wiccanfae when we have no idea what kind of threat she might be. Or even if she is a threat . “It might be nothing. She might have been called away.”
    “To do what?”
    They looked at each other, neither one wanting to answer that question.
     

 

     
     

Chapter Seventeen

 

     
     

     
    Eight of his Inquisitors stood to one side, watching the two in the rowboat that floated in the center of the pond. Beside him, the village magistrate cringed as the woman was pulled up, again, from beneath the water. She gasped for breath, a harsh sound that carried clearly in the still morning air.
    “Do you admit your guilt and confess your crimes against your neighbors?” the Inquisitor holding the rope asked in a loud voice.
    “No!” the woman gasped. “No! I—”
    The Inquisitor let the rope slide through his gloved hands. The woman disappeared beneath the water.
    Again.
    She’s been in that pond for close to an hour, and she’s still fighting , Adolfo thought, sharply watching the way the rowboat rocked on the water. But she won’t last much longer.