The Pillars Of The World

the seed now. Give it time to take root “I have some land of my own. It’s in the west, about a day’s ride from the coast. It belonged to my mother. When my parents died, it came to me. Now that I’ve reached my majority, it’s time for me to go home.”
    That shook her enough to make her hand tremble in his.
    “Why—” Ari drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Why have you never said anything about this?
    ”
    “Because my gentry relatives are greedy. The baron would have made my life even more miserable if he’
    d known there was something that belonged to me that he couldn’t use while I was under his roof.
    Besides, I don’t own the land in that way.” He paused. “I did tell your grandmother about the land. She told me it would be a secret between us until I was ready to share it with someone else. That she thought I was wise not to tell anyone was the main reason I’ve been able to keep it a secret for so long.”
    “And now you’ve told me,” Ari said softly. “Thank you.”
    He opened his eyes and looked at her. She seemed to be working hard to remain calm, and that gave him hope. “I wanted you to know there was land waiting to be cherished again, that there was a place to go.”
    “The anniversary of your birthing day was weeks ago. You should have left then so that you’d have time to put in your own crops.”
    “I had reason to stay.”
    She pressed her lips together. “When are you going?”
    “That depends on you.” He watched her eyes widen with shock. He gently squeezed her hand. “If you know in your heart that you will never think of me as anything more than a friend, I hope you’ll be honest enough to tell me—and I’ll go alone. But if there’s a chance that you could care for me as a lover and a wife, I’ll wait for you, Ari.”
    “Neall . . .”
    He shook his head. “Don’t say anything now.”
    Ari looked at the meadow and the forest beyond. “I care for you, Neall. I do. But my family has looked after Brightwood for generations. It’s my duty to stay here.”
    “Perhaps it’s time for someone else to take care of Brightwood,” he said quietly. “Perhaps it’s time to make a new life somewhere else. Think about it, Ari. Please.”
    Releasing her hand, he stood up. “I need to get back now. Can I help you with anything before I go?”
    Ari shook her head.
    “Then I’d better stir my four-legged friend and convince him it’s time to leave.” He took a few steps toward the part of the meadow where the gelding was grazing before Ari called him back.
    She was wringing her hands and looked so distressed he regretted that he had spoiled her peace.
    “Neall . . . Even if I could leave Brightwood, it’s not our way to marry.”
    “Sometimes it is,” he said hurriedly. “My mother married my father, and they were happy.” When she looked puzzled, he thought, I hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t intended to tell her — at least, not yet
    — but now I have to tell her all of it. One way or the other, it might make the difference in the answer . “My mother’s branch was earth. There was nothing she touched that wouldn’t grow.”
    Ari stared at him. “Your mother was a witch?”
    “Yes. And my father was half Fae.” There was bitterness in his smile. “From things the baron has said, I gather the family had been embarrassed to have to acknowledge a child sired by one of the Fae. So they had been quite willing to forget about my father when he came of age and headed west to make his own fortune. The only thing they knew about my mother was that my father had married her.”
    “Why are you telling me this?”

    “Because I don’t want any secrets between us. Because I want you to know who I came from.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And now I’ll go. Blessings of the day to you, Ari.”
    “Blessings of the day to you, Neall,” she whispered.
    All the way back to the baron’s estate, he wondered if he’d done the right thing, if he should have waited to tell her about his parents and the land. Since he couldn’t take back the words, he hoped he’d made the right choice.
     

 

     
     

Chapter Nineteen

 

     
     

     
    “Something has to be done,” Dianna said, pacing the length of the terrace that overlooked her favorite garden.
    “What can be done?” Lyrra asked. “The new moon has begun its journey—and Lucian hasn’t gone down the road through the Veil since the day he returned early.”
    “Has