Anne Bishop - Shadows and Light

And she felt an ache in her heart that he hadn’t arrived a month earlier when he could have walked down a forest trail and looked into the wise, dark eyes of an old stag.

Padrick joined her, took her hand in his. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The light squeeze of her hand told her he knew where her thoughts had gone.

She looked at Caitlin and Evan, sitting on old blankets with a pile of other children, protected within that half circle of benches filled with adults. The men who formed the outer part of the circle were all armed. They’d found no nighthunter nests close to the Clan house, but she knew there were still some out there. She could still feel a wrongness in the woods. So they would be cautious, careful.

Aiden and Lyrra began with an instrumental piece, followed by a bright little tune. Then Lyrra spent a couple of minutes teaching the children the chorus to another song.

They were all laughing and applauding at the end of that song when a shout of alarm had the adults jumping to their feet.

Ashk’s heart pounded in her chest as a dark horse cantered toward them, chased by one of the youths standing watch over the corralled horses. Like the armed hunters, she scanned the trees and the shadows cast by the torchlight for any sign of danger—and sensed nothing.

The horse wove his way between people who prudently stepped aside until he came to a stop at the edge of the blankets filled with children.

“I don’t understand how he got out,” the youth said, panting from the chase.

“It’s all right.” Aiden’s voice was a blend of embarrassment and resignation. “He just wants to hear the music.”

The dark horse tossed his head in what might have been a nod of agreement.

The youth trotted back to the corral. The adults settled back in their seats. The horse pricked his ears.

“Back, Minstrel,” Aiden said firmly.

Minstrel hung his head, positioning his ears to create a woeful expression.

Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose. “Two steps back.”

One step. Two steps. Still looking woeful.

Aiden picked up his whistle. Minstrel lifted his head.

Like the rest of them, Ashk watched with delight as Minstrel arched his neck and did his trotting-in-place dance to Aiden’s tune.

When the applause died down, Aiden said, “Take a bow, Minstrel.” His eyes widened and Lyrra sprawled on the bench in gleeful laughter as the horse extended one front leg, curled the other, and lowered his head.

“I don’t think the Bard was expecting that,” Padrick whispered.

“No, I don’t think he was,” Ashk whispered back. Aiden’s effort to control his expression was as entertaining as anything else so far.

They listened to funny songs and love songs and, finally, at the end, another instrumental piece that was quiet and peaceful.

Padrick slipped an arm around her waist, brought his lips close to her ear. “He’s a good man, but he can’t win this battle alone.”

“I know.”

“Will he meet the Hunter?”

She didn’t answer until the last notes of the song faded on the air. “He’ll meet the Hunter.”

Aiden wandered toward the sturdy, makeshift table that held the Solstice feast, curious to see what Ari was doing. She kept glancing around while she held her hands close to the sides of one dish after another. Maybe whatever she was doing meant they’d be eating soon. He hoped so. The scent of the food was making his mouth water and his stomach growl.

He was still a few feet away when Neall stepped out of the cottage’s kitchen door, saw Ari, and frowned.

“You’re doing too much,” Neall said, striding over to Ari.

“It’s just a little fire to keep things warm,” Ari said defensively, turning to face him.

Neall rested his hands lightly of her upper arms. “If you do too much, you’ll be tired by the time you finish the dance and you won’t enjoy the entertainment Ashk has planned afterward.”

Ari smoothed nonexistent wrinkles on the embroidered shirt she’d made for him. “It’s our first Summer Solstice here. I want it to be perfect.”

“It won’t be perfect, Ari,” Neall said with a smile. He kissed her. “But it will be wonderful.”

Wondering how to move away without drawing attention to himself and ending their quietly intimate moment, Aiden saw Padrick approaching.

“Neall, I wonder if I can borrow Ari for a few minutes. Ashk has a couple of things she needs to discuss with her.”

Ari glanced over to where Ashk was sitting with a few other women, including Lyrra and Morphia. “She just wants me to sit down and rest—like someone else I know.”

“That may be so,” Padrick agreed. “But I was sent to fetch you, and I, as a dutiful husband, am here to ask you to allow yourself to be fetched.” He shifted his face into a comically woeful expression. “If I go back empty-handed, I’ll get a pillow and blanket tonight instead of kisses and cuddles.”

Ari huffed in an effort not to laugh. Then she noticed Aiden. “Does the Bard have an opinion he wants to express?”

“Indeed I do,” Aiden replied. “Your gown is lovely.”

Ari blushed a little and grinned. Aiden grinned back at her.

Padrick and Neall just looked at him.

“You’re supposed to have a way with words, and that’s the best you can do?” Neall said.

“Since Ari isn’t arguing with me, I’d say I’ve done very well,” Aiden replied.

Padrick and Neall looked so disgruntled, Ari laughed. “Very well, Padrick. I’ll not undermine your influence as husband or baron.”

Padrick offered his arm to Ari, winked at Neall, and led the young witch to where Ashk waited.

“More ale, Bard?” Neall asked.

Aiden lifted his tankard in a salute. “I’ll make do with what I have, thanks. I want a clear head tonight. Do you know what Lady Ashk has planned?”

Neall shook his head. “Well, there’s a traditional dance this Clan usually does at Harvest Eve, but Ashk decided to do it tonight as an entertainment for the Clan’s guests. That’s why she requested a fire pit in the meadow to hold a small bonfire instead of the brazier Ari would normally use tonight.”

They both looked back at the table wistfully.

“If I round up the children, they’ll become impatient if they aren’t fed soon,” Neall said.

“Which means the rest of us will get to eat, as well. That sounds like a fine plan.”

With a mischievous grin, Neall headed out to the part of the meadow where several children were playing some kind of odd game of tag with Merle.

Aiden drank the last couple of swallows of ale, draining his tankard. A Fae Lord. Oh, the face was certainly human, but there was no denying that Neall was a Fae Lord. A young Lord of the Woods. And a fine young man.

“Blessings of the day to you, Aiden.”

Aiden turned. Morag stood a few feet behind him.

“Blessings of the day, Morag.” Before she could speak, he shook his head. “You made your apology, and it was accepted.”

“I hurt you,” Morag said softly.

“Yes, you did. But I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” He looked over to where Ari sat with the other women, laughing about something. “She’s different here.”

Morag shook her head as she moved to stand beside him. “No, she isn’t.”

He turned so they both stood facing the meadow, watching Neall and Merle herd laughing children toward a trough where they could wash their hands. “She is. She’s bloomed.”

“She’s accepted here—by the Fae, by the villagers. Here, she’s a Daughter of the House of Gaian. Here, she’s wanted for herself, not for what she has or what she can do for someone else.”