Anne Bishop - The House of Gaian

She lifted the cloth folded over the top of the basket—and stared at the sleeping black puppy. She wanted to run her fingers over that soft fur, but she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him.

"Squire Thurston's bitch had a litter," Falco said. "He wasn't going to keep them. And since he's pretty sure the wild oats the bitch got into came from here, I thought. . ."

"Wild oats?" Breanna asked, bewildered. "From here? What kind of. . . Oh ." She looked at the puppy again, and her throat tightened. But she still hesitated to pet him.

"I thought he'd be company for you, once winter sets in. And I thought you'd like him better than a salmon."

"Better than—" Remembering the condition of the salmon he'd brought her, she grabbed the puppy out of the basket and cradled him against her chest. "Falco! You didn't fly over there and snatch him, did you?"

"Fly? Snatch?" Falco's eyes widened. "No. I rode over with the basket. Just got back a little while ago."

"Oh." It wasn't so hard to cuddle the puppy, who was content to be petted back to sleep. "I thought. . . after everything that's happened, I thought you'd grown tired of this world and were going back to Tir Alainn." Where it's peaceful. . . and safe .

After a long silence, he asked quietly, "Do you want to live in Tir Alainn?"

She didn't have to think about it. "No."

"Then I'm staying. I love you, Breanna. And I think. . . I think Willowsbrook needs us."

She heard it again. The same hesitation and uncertainty she'd heard when he'd finally shown himself to her in human form. He was looking for some assurance that he had a place in the world.

Smiling, she held out her hand. "Yes, Falco. Willowsbrook needs us. Both of us."

The following morning Aiden set two fresh stacks of paper at one end of the dining room table at Liam's house, made sure the quills were sharpened and the ink bottles filled. He and Lyrra would make notes of this barons' council, then combine them into one document for Liam's review and approval.

He looked at Donovan, who sat in a cushioned chair to his left. "Are you sure you should be out of bed?"

"If I didn't get out of that cursed bed, I'd either have to strangle Gwenny or have an affair with the cook. The woman has taken a fiendish delight is serving me chicken soup for two out of three meals."

"The cook?"

"No," Donovan growled. "My wife."

Aiden coughed to disguise his laughter.

Looking sulky, Donovan turned to Liam. "You've had news from the west?"

"I'll tell you when we're all gathered," Liam replied, fingering the folded sheet of paper.

To distract Donovan—and satisfy his own curiosity—Aiden asked, "You've had news as well, haven't you, Ashk?" She looked more exhausted now than she had during the days of the battle, so he was relieved to see a little color in her face again.

"From Padrick," Ashk said, smiling. "He and the children are well. And Ari gave birth to a strong, healthy boy. Padrick says Neall is hiding his disappointment in not having a daughter by wearing a silly grin, walking into walls, and generally making so much of a nuisance of himself that the Clan's Lady of the Hearth has taken to locking him out of the cottage for a couple of hours every day so that Ari and the babe can get some rest. Of course, since he sounds too sulky to be complaining just on Neall's behalf, I suspect Uncle Padrick has also been locked out of the cottage on a regular basis."

"That's wonderful news," Lyrra said, having paused in the doorway to listen. As she walked to her place at the table, she pointed at Aiden. "You should write a song."

"You should write a poem," he countered.

"We'll collaborate," she said primly, taking her seat.

Aiden leaned close to her and whispered, "We did that quite well last evening."

Watching her color rise, he busied himself with examining his quills, fully aware of the interested, and speculative, glances the barons were giving Lyrra as they walked into the room.

Ashk took her seat at the table, followed by Selena.

The table had been pushed to one side of the room so that chairs for the surviving barons who had fought at Willowsbrook could be placed in rows facing the table. Fae Lords and Sons of the House of Gaian stood against the wall, and two chairs were set to one side for Breanna and Elinore. The barons had argued that their council should be private while they decided the fate of the eastern counties ruled by the barons who had followed the Inquisitors, but Liam had insisted that the Fae and the witches should be present if they so wished since they would be affected by any decisions made here.

When everyone was assembled, Liam opened the piece of paper. "I have a message from Padrick, Baron of Breton. You are all free to examine the contents."

One of the barons waved the offer away. "Just tell us what it says, Liam."

Liam cleared his throat. "Recognizing that the fate of Sylvalan would have to be decided swiftly once the battle was won and that it would be better not to delay such discussion by waiting for those who would require days of travel to reach us here, Baron Padrick states that I have been granted a proxy vote—for all the western barons."

Stunned silence.

Aiden made hurried notes. If his understanding was clear on the way the council worked, Liam's vote counted for more than the rest of the men combined.

When no one made any comment, Liam folded the paper and set it aside. "Shall we begin?"

The door to the dining room opened. Aiden glanced up and dropped his quill, spattering ink all over the top sheet of paper. Pushing the paper aside, he retrieved the quill and dipped it in the ink pot.

"Oh, my," Lyrra whispered.

Her hair was pinned up in a becoming fashion instead of scraped back in a tight knot, and her gown was as finely made as any gentry lady's, but Aiden had no trouble recognizing Skelly's sweet granny. And the way Breanna and Selena leaped to their feet when she entered the room made him very nervous.

"Grandmother," Selena said.

The Crone smiled at Selena and Breanna. "Granddaughters."

"Take my seat, Grandmother," Breanna said, touching the back of her chair.

The Crone sat down and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes touched every man in the room before they fixed on Liam. "The Crones have discussed what has happened in Sylvalan. Since I am the one who lives closest to this place, I have to come to tell you what has been decided."

"Begging your pardon, Lady," one of the barons said. "But it is up to the barons to decide what happens to the land owned by-"

"You do not own the land." Her voice cut like a knife. "You have never owned the land. The Great Mother is held by her Sons and Daughters. It has always been so. It will always be so. We granted your people stewardship over portions of the land, giving you a place to live in your own way, just as we set aside portions of the land for the Fae and the Small Folk and the wild things of the world. Stewardship, Baron. Stewardship. You do not own the Mother."

Aiden wrote frantically, part of him fearful of what she was going to say and another part hoping she wouldn't object if he shaped those words into a song.

"This is what we have decided. The barons in the west, in the midlands, and in parts of the north, south, and east will retain stewardship of the lands they now hold. But the land that was held by the barons who followed the Inquisitors is forfeit. All of it."

A swell of protest rose from the barons, cut off abruptly when Liam raised his hand.

"Wise of you, Grandson who is also a baron."

Aiden wrote frantically, aware that Lyrra was scribbling just as fast.

"The land is forfeit. However, we recognize that your people have already suffered much, and turning them off the land they have worked would be cruel and unjust. Therefore, they may stay if they wish—but under the rule of the House of Gaian.