Anne Bishop - Shadows and Light

Breanna continued to stare at him. She felt as if the world had suddenly become one of those toys that Brooke had brought over one day—the tube with colored pieces of glass that shifted and formed a new pattern when you rolled the tube. This moment had shifted unexpectedly, showing her a new pattern.

He’s lonely. All these days, shunned by his own kind because he believed we were people who mattered instead of tools the Fae could command and use at their whim. What had he felt, watching us laugh and squabble and work together? He didn’t risk his human form, didn’t want to be sent away. Who could blame him for that? And now. .. Now he expects to be sent away. Where would he go? Who could he work with, laugh with, squabble with?

She took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “Have you eaten this evening?”

He shook his head.

“Then come in the house.” She tried to smile, but found she was too close to tears and had to fight to keep her voice steady. “After you have something to eat, I’ll ask Clay and Rory to go with you to fetch your horse and gear. You shouldn’t be out in the woods alone, not with the nighthunters out there.”

He shook his head again. “You’ve got so many people already with all your kin here.”

“There’s room for one more.” She hesitated, then placed a hand on his arm. “There’s a place for you here, Falco. There’s a place for you here.”

She slid her hand down until it brushed his. He turned his hand so that he could hold hers. She stood up, then tugged on his hand until he stood beside her. The mixture of hope and fear in his face made tears sting her eyes. Looking away, she led him to the house.

It was the prettiest village Aiden had ever seen, and just the sight of it lifted his spirits. He could imagine living in one of those tidy cottages, talking with the same people day after day, playing his songs in the tavern or in the square, sharing the joys and sorrows of the community. He could picture Lyrra telling her stories to children gathered around her— and other stories to the adults later in the evening. He could imagine raising their children there.

The village’s only flaw was that it had been built in an Old Place. If humans had built a village there, it meant the Old Place was gone. And yet it didn’t feel gone.

“Maybe it’s like the Clan house in that other Old Place,” Lyrra said. “Or... maybe there’s a large enough family of witches living in the Old Place that the magic has spread beyond the borders.”

“Maybe,” Aiden said. He’d like to believe that. “Shall we ride in and see what the tavern might be offering for a midday meal?”

Lyrra nodded.

Aiden studied her. She looked more tired than she should have, and she’d alternated between snapping at him about anything and turning weepy about nothing. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell him what was bothering her, and he didn’t have the nerve to ask if she was pregnant because, if she was, he was fairly certain whatever response he made to the news would be the wrong one. Instead of asking about something that would create a strain between them, he said, “If the tavern has a room available, we could stay here until morning.”

He saw a yearning in her face that changed to hard resolve.

“It’s only midday,” Lyrra said. “We need to keep going. That bard either lied to us or had never made the journey to Bretonwood and has no idea how long it really takes.”

“I figure by taking this road instead of continuing on the main one, we’ve saved a day’s travel.”

“That bard didn’t mention this road. It’s not marked, but it wasn’t that hard to find.”

The sharpness under her words made him uneasy. Her referring to Taihg as “that bard” didn’t bode well. But she was right. Taihg hadn’t mentioned this road, which seemed to head northwest—exactly where they needed to go.

Lyrra sighed. “I’m tired, Aiden.”

“I know, love. I know.”

“I just want it done. I want the journey to end. I want to find the Hunter and finally know if there’s any use in our trying and trying and trying.” She sniffled lightly. “And I don’t want to stay in that village more than an hour, because if I do, I won’t want to leave, and that will make leaving so much harder.”

Aiden hesitated. “How would you feel about living among humans?”

She gave the village a long, thoughtful look. “Here, I would be willing to try.”

“Then let’s find out if it would be possible.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Aiden smiled. “Taihg did say it was safer to wear our true faces. Let’s find out.”

The hope and anticipation in her face made him as uneasy as her sharp tone had a moment ago. All he could do now was hope an hour in the village didn’t spoil her pleasure.

They rode down to the village at an easy pace. There were plenty of people around as they rode up the main street. Aiden’s heart sank as he watched those people study him and Lyrra with cold eyes before hurrying into the nearest building. So. That answered the question about whether or not Fae might be accepted by these villagers.

As they dismounted in front of the Hunter’s Horn, a little girl pulled away from her mother, darted across the street, and stopped in front of Minstrel.

“Pretty horse,” she said, raising one small hand.

Minstrel obligingly lowered his head so she could pet his nose.

“Kayla!” the woman said, rushing over to pull her daughter to safety.

“It’s all right,” Aiden said soothingly. “He’s very gentle.”

The assurance didn’t seem to ease the woman’s fear.

“He’s pretty, Mama,” the little girl said. She looked at Aiden. “Whaz his name?”

“Minstrel.”

“Does he sing?”

Aiden grinned. “He would if he could. Since he can’t, he just likes to listen.”

“I’m gonna be a minstrel when I’m bigger,” the girl said. “But I won’t be a horse.”

Minstrel moved his ears so they stuck out from his head, giving him such a woebegone expression, even the woman smiled.

“Don’t be sad,” the little girl said. “I’ll sing you a song.” She began to sing in a sweet, clear voice.

Aiden snapped to attention, his blue eyes intent on the girl. He shouldn’t have done it— knew he shouldn’t have reacted that way—but it was a song he’d never heard, and it pulled at him with a force he couldn’t resist.

“Kayla!” The woman grabbed her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her back a couple of steps. “That’s enough!”

“But Mama—”

“What kind of song is that?” Aiden asked, taking a step forward.

“It’s a wic—”

“Enough!” the woman shouted. She picked up the little girl, hurried across the street, and went into the nearest shop.

Aiden’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. What was so wrong about letting the child sing? What was so wrong about letting him hear the child sing?

“Aiden,” Lyrra said softly. “Let’s go into the tavern. Now.”

There was something wrong in the tone of her voice that pulled his focus away from music. He saw the men who had been on the street slowly walking toward them, a grim expression on every face.

Trying to look relaxed, he loosely tied Minstrel’s reins and the packhorse’s lead to a post outside the tavern. As soon as Lyrra tied her horse, he took her hand and walked into the tavern with her.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“It wasn’t you,” Lyrra said just as softly.

Aiden smiled at the aproned man who came to greet them—or, perhaps, block them from entering farther into the room.

“What’s your business?” the man growled.