Anne Bishop - The Pillars of the World

But . . . Perhaps Lucian would like a child?

Shaking her head, Ari made her tea. Leaving it on the worktable to steep, she took a pitcher of water and the kettle into the washroom, filled the basin, and took a quick sponge bath.

A child was a dangerous thought because it was appealing. But not appealing enough. Oh, Lucian had been a splendid lover and had proved beyond her hopes that not all men were like Royce. Just the thought of what his hands and mouth had done to her made her feel fluttery inside. But that didn’t mean he would welcome a child that had been created with a witch. Besides, he would be gone by the dark of the moon—or even sooner, since her courses might start before then.

“And for all you know, he could already have a wife and children,” Ari muttered as she returned to the kitchen to drink her tea. Married men weren’t supposed to accept an invitation made during the Summer Moon, but plenty of them did. Why should the Fae be any different?

“Because you don’t want him to be so . . . common, so much like Royce or Baron Felston or any of the other gentry in Ridgeley. You want his heart to hold the leash on his loins.” Ari cut a slice of bread and spread jam over it. “Even if he does have a wife, accepting the fancy and coming here last night was his choice.” But it would be a bitter discovery if she found out he had a wife he should have been loyal to.

Neall certainly wouldn’t approve of her welcoming a married man into her bed, whether the Fae lived by a different moral code or not.

Sighing, Ari drank her tea. Leaving the bread on the worktable, she went to her bedroom to get dressed.

In some ways, Neall was as much of an outsider in Ridgeley as she was. Maybe that’s why, as children, they had become friends. Were still friends, even though she didn’t see much of him anymore. He seemed more . . . cautious . . . about being around her now.

“Which is neither here nor there,” Ari told herself firmly. “He doesn’t have any right to tell you what to do with your life or whose company you can or can’t enjoy.”

Since the words didn’t sound indifferent when spoken out loud, Ari clamped her teeth together. She could deny it as much as she liked, but what Neall thought did matter. Just as what Ahern thought mattered. Maybe because they were the only people left who cared about her at all.

Well, neither of them was likely to find out that she had a Fae lover for the next few days, so she was just chewing worries into her day, as her grandmother used to say.

After pulling on her oldest trousers and tunic, Ari swiftly braided her hair. There was no point in dressing in better clothes when she was going to be working all day. The only person who would see her was Ahern, and the only thing he would notice was the sweet bread she was bringing. So she’d take a quick walk over to his farm, then spend the day working in the garden.

And she would not— would not —let herself diminish the satisfaction she felt when she worked with the land because she was brooding about men. She just wouldn’t think about them. She wouldn’t think about Neall or Ahern. And, most of all, she wouldn’t think about the Lightbringer—or wonder if he was coming back tonight.

Even though she sensed they would have preferred no other company but their own, Dianna lingered over the morning meal she had shared with Lyrra and Aiden in one of the Clan house’s communal rooms. Lucian had returned early that morning, and she had wanted to meet him casually, when enough time had passed that it wouldn’t seem like she had been waiting for his return to find out what had happened last night.

Lyrra put her feet up on the padded bench and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Perhaps today I’ll whisper in someone’s ear and inspire him to write a great epic,” she said, smiling.

“If you do, try to pick someone with at least a little skill for writing,” Aiden replied, leaning back in his chair. His voice was bland, but his blue eyes sparkled.

Dropping her feet to the floor, Lyrra sat up straight and stiff. “You can’t tell me everyone you touch has golden fingers or a silver voice. I’ve heard some of the braying that passes for singing.”

“I’ll not deny it, but at least a bad song doesn’t have to be endured for long, while a bad epic . . .” He made an exaggerated shudder.

“Oh, I can see what this day will bring,” Dianna said. “Someone is going to write a very long, very bad epic, which will be set to music. It will be called The Battle of the Bard and the Muse . The music will be played off-key and off-tempo. The words, which were written as prose, will be stuffed into the melody with no regard to any sense of rhythm. Wherever it is performed, there will be much weeping, which will have nothing to do with the story itself.”

They just stared at her.

“Perhaps the Lady of the Moon should be the epic’s subject,” Lyrra said coolly after a long pause.

“Perhaps,” Aiden agreed quietly.

There was no sparkle in Aiden’s eyes and no friendliness in Lyrra’s. Apparently only the Muse and the Bard could tease each other and not pay for the jest.

“I ask your indulgence,” Dianna said, feeling annoyed by the necessity to say the words. Especially to Lyrra. The Muse came from a Clan a little farther north, but close enough that the Clans visited each other fairly often, and the two women had been friends for several years. Aiden came from a Midlands Clan and until he had come to her Clan’s house to help find a way to stop Tir Alainn’s destruction, she’d only met him a few times, despite their being distant kin. But the few weeks he’d been living with her Clan were quite enough to make her wary of his sharp mind and even sharper tongue.

“It was meant to tease, as you were doing,” Dianna said. “It would seem I have no skill for such things. And . . . my thoughts are a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oooh?” Lyrra said.

Before Dianna could decide how much to say, Falco entered the room and strode over to them.

“Have you seen Lucian today?” Falco demanded.

“Not yet,” Dianna replied. “Why?”

“He’s acting strangely. And you wouldn’t believe what he’s asked the Cloud Sisters to do.”

Noting Lyrra’s swift, concerned glance at her, Dianna remained focused on the Lord of the Hawks. “What did he ask?”

Falco shook his head. “You have to talk to him, Dianna. You have to find out why he’s . . . different . . . today.”

Dianna felt chilled. She had urged Lucian to go to that cottage last night. If there was something wrong with him because of it . . . But what could have happened that would make him different? What kind of creature was this female?

“Perhaps he’s in love,” Aiden said blandly.

Dianna’s head whipped around to face the Bard. Did Aiden know where Lucian had gone last night? Did he know he was talking about a Fae male becoming enamored with a human female? It didn’t matter. The barb in that bland comment had found its mark.

Oh, there were Fae who became tangled up with human females and not only lost all sense of what was right and proper but actually developed feelings for the creatures. But none of them were Lucian, none of them were the Lightbringer. For him to become ensnared . . .

“Dianna?” Lyrra said softly.

Fighting to appear calm, Dianna inclined her head slightly toward Falco. “My thanks for bringing this to my attention, Falco. I’ll talk to my brother.”

“I would advise you to do it soon,” Falco said. “It’s disturbing the rest of the Clan to see him acting so strange.”

No one spoke until Falco left the room.