Anne Bishop: The Pillars of the World

“But even that much power isn’t very useful when it comes to dealing with the likes of Mistress Brigston or Granny Gwynn,” she said softly as she dug into her skirt pocket and pulled out the fancy. Just enough magic in it that she didn’t dare ignore it. So, if she couldn’t ignore it, what kind of lover would she like to draw to her?

“A man who has kindness inside him as well as strength,” she told the fancy. “A man who could accept me for what I am. A man who isn’t from Ridgeley.” As I will it. . .

Ari shook her head and stuffed the fancy back into her skirt pocket. Granny Gwynn might be a hedge witch with enough strength to do a bit of mischief magic, but she , like all the other women in the family who had come before her, was a witch full and true. And a witch did not send out idle wishing.

Retrieving the handcart, she continued the walk home while thoughts and memories chased her.

Royce had begun “courting” her shortly after her fifteenth birthday. He had been the first man in Ridgeley who had treated her with courtesy, and his sweet words had seduced her into believing that he was as much in love with her as she was with him— until the night she had met him in a meadow and he had pleaded with her to make their love a physical union. Since she had been raised to believe that intimacy was a gift from the Mother, she had been willing to celebrate their love. She had gotten no pleasure from the quick, rough coupling he had seemed to enjoy. And afterward . . . Afterward he had sneeringly thanked her for giving his rod some relief—. . . and for helping him win the bet that he could have her on her back within a moon’s cycle of beginning his “courtship.”

She had crept home, ashamed and brokenhearted. Her mother and grandmother had been understanding—and never spoke aloud the sadness she knew they had felt that her first experience had left her with such bitter memories.

Taking a deep breath, Ari turned aside from those thoughts. It did no good to look back at something that had happened two years before—something that she had never allowed to happen since.

Maybe it was that feel in the air that made a budding summer day have an edge like an approaching winter storm. There was a message there, if only she could understand it. But earth and fire were the branches of the Mother that were her strength, and she couldn’t sense what the branches of water and air might have told her.

Think of something else , she told herself sternly. Your thoughts are your will, and you bring to yourself what you will .

Loneliness had brought today’s events down on her like an earthslide. Well, she would ignore it the next time it crept into her dreams. She’d been alone since her mother died a few months after Grandmother Astra. She would get used to it, wouldn’t let herself be ruled by it. She had no choice, since she was all that was left of her family.

We are witches. I’ll not deny it , Astra had told her once. Whether that’s a gift or a burden is something each must choose for herself. But, child, it’s only a word, and only you can decide what that word will mean. When you let others define you, you give up the greatest power of all .

Wise words from a strong, wise woman. But even Astra couldn’t have foreseen a time when there would be only one of them left, and that one being a seventeen-year-old girl struggling to define herself while an entire village strove to reshape and diminish her.

Willing herself not to cry, Ari looked around and spotted a hawk watching her from a nearby tree. She felt her mood shift, as it always did when she saw one of the Mother’s wild children, and she smiled for the first time that day. Raising her hand in greeting, she called out, “Blessings of the day to you, brother hawk.”

The hawk chose not to answer. But she noticed that, every time she looked back, it was still watching her.

It’s only a hawk , she thought as that feel in the air began to press in on her again. Of course it was only a hawk. Then again, it could have been a Fae Lord or Lady from Tir Alainn. It was said that each of them had another form that could be taken at will.

Tir Alainn. The Fair Land. The Otherland. The land of magic—and the home of the Fae, who were the Mother’s most powerful children.

It was better to believe the hawk was only a hawk. Despite what Odella and the other girls might think about a romantic encounter with a Fae Lord on a moonlit road, the Fae were not always kind when they dealt with humans.

Suddenly shivering, Ari hurried toward the safety of her home.

She had two days to understand the magic Granny Gwynn had set into the fancy, two days to see if there was some way to safely counter the spell. If she couldn’t she would have to abide by that spell and swear a promise that invoked the two most powerful Fae—the Lady of the Moon and the Lord of the Sun, the Lord of Fire. The Huntress . . . and the Lightbringer.

Dianna stood on one of the terraces overlooking the gardens of the Clan house, watching her brother until the path took him out of sight.

“He’s has been prowling the gardens all morning,” Lyrra said, settling herself on the low terrace wall. “And he’s got that look in his eyes that bodes ill for anyone offering him company.”

“You mean for anyone offering him a romp,” Dianna replied defensively. “Lucian accepts invitations when he chooses and takes his pleasure where he wills.” Her voice ripened with impatience. “Besides, men don’t always think about that .”

“Really?” Lyrra said dryly. “Even on this day, when the first moon of summer rises?” She made a rude noise that expressed her opinion quite adequately.

Turning her back on the garden, Dianna sat on the terrace wall near Lyrra. She sighed. As much as she’d tried to pretend she didn’t know why the Fae men were acting so restless, Lyrra was right. They viewed the night of the Summer Moon as other men might view a banquet table filled with a variety of dishes to be sampled. And the dishes that were the most familiar had the least appeal.

Which is neither here nor there to me , Dianna thought. The Wild Hunt also rides tonight, and anyone crossing our path is fair game .

“Will Aiden be among those traveling the road through the Veil tonight?” Dianna asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” Lyrra said too casually.

Oh, you know , Dianna thought, seeing the way Lyrra’s eyes fixed on the gardens without seeing them. You know, and the casual way he seeks other lovers hurts you . “If our paths cross tonight, shall I bring you back his heart?” She said the words lightly, but there was nothing light about the question.

“Haven’t you realized it yet, Huntress?” Lyrra said with equal lightness. “Fae men have no hearts.”

Not knowing what to say, Dianna remained silent until Lyrra retreated inside the Clan house.

That wasn’t true, Dianna thought as she left the terrace and meandered the garden paths. Not exactly. It wasn’t in the Fae’s nature to be . . . warm . . . with each other. Not that way. Physical coupling was pleasant, but it wasn’t supposed to involve the heart. Why should it?

And since it didn’t, there was no reason why the males shouldn’t enjoy females from the human world. It required little of them and meant even less. Besides, it was the women from a handful of extended families who made up each Clan. The woman and their offspring. Fae males tended to make lengthy visits to other Clans to avoid sowing their own meadow. It was a woman’s male relatives, her brothers and cousins, who helped raise the child, not its sire. Fae women seldom found a human interesting enough to take as a lover, but if the males took their ease in a human’s bed, what difference did it make?