Shadows and Light (23 page)

“But they
didn’t
tell you,” Falco said. “Lyrra just said they didn’t.”

“If we were both lost in the mist, they could claim they’d told us — and there would be no one who could call them liars,” Lyrra whispered.

“But…” Falco sat back on his heels. “But that seems like such a …
human
… thing to do.”

“Is it? If that’s the case, perhaps we’ve become more human than we want to believe.”

Falco winced. Lyrra didn’t blame him. The Fae had held the conceit of being superior to every other living thing for so long, it wasn’t easy to consider that the worst flaws in their nature might be something they had in common with humans.

Aiden tried to sit up. When he started to fall back, groaning, Lyrra and Falco supported his shoulders to help him.

“We have to keep going,” Aiden said. Red streaks on the side of his torn shirt caught Lyrra’s attention. Blood. “You
are
hurt!”

“I’m all right. I can travel. We need to travel.”

“First you need to have the Clan healer take a look at your hands,” Falco said, helping Aiden stand up.

His hands? Lyrra gasped when she looked at Aiden’s scratched, abraded hands. “Mother’s mercy, Aiden.”

Aiden looked at Falco. His blue eyes were so filled with bitter despair Lyrra wanted to cry out from the pain of just seeing it.

“Do you really think I’d trust this Clan’s healer with my hands?” Aiden asked. “I could end up crippled from a few scratches.” He turned, stumbled on the first step. Catching his balance, he started walking toward the Clan house in the distance.

Lyrra stared at him, not sure what to do with him or for him. His frustration with the rest of the Fae had been turning bitter for a while now, but she didn’t know what would happen to either of them if he continued down that road. She wouldn’t leave him. She knew that much. Not just because, as a woman, she loved the man, but also because, as the Muse, she believed in what he was trying to do as the Bard.

“Can you get the horses?” Falco asked quietly. When she nodded, he ran to catch up to Aiden.

As Lyrra untied her mare’s reins from the packhorse’s lead rope, she saw the two men stop. Their voices were too low to hear the words, but it was obvious they were arguing about something. Gathering the reins and lead rope, she hurried to catch up to them.

“Don’t be a fool, Aiden,” Falco said heatedly. “Do you think they’ll care if you harm yourself to spite them?”

Harm himself? Lyrra’s heart leaped in her chest.

“I’ll ask no favors,” Aiden snarled. “Not from them.”

“Then don’t. But you can get back to the Clan house faster and use what you need to clean those wounds if you ride the mare instead of walking.”

Aiden winced as his hands began to ball into fists. His shoulders sagged. Then he smiled ruefully. “If I can lose an
argument to the Lord of the Hawks, I suppose I’m really not fit enough for a long walk.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that sharp tongue of yours,” Falco muttered before adding, “Then be sensible and get on the horse.”

Lyrra mounted the mare, wincing when she heard Aiden’s grunt of pain as he mounted behind her. After accepting the packhorse’s lead rope from Falco, she urged the mare into an easy canter.

A moment later, a shadow passed over them. She glanced up, saw the hawk flying just ahead of them. Falco, keeping watch.

When they reached the grounds of the Clan house, Aiden pointed to a fountain. “Over there.”

She slowed the mare to a walk, guiding the animals to the fountain.

Aiden dismounted. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it in the fountain. He sat on the fountain’s edge, pulled the shirt out of the water, and used it to wash the bloody scrapes on his side.

Falco landed near the fountain, gave Lyrra a worried look.

Dismounting, Lyrra approached Aiden. He ignored her and continued to use the shirt to wash his right side. Then he dunked his hands in the fountain, gritting his teeth as he scrubbed as much dirt as he could out of the cuts and scrapes.

Lyrra turned back to the mare, trying not to let her exasperation show. Stubborn, foolish…man. Did he really think a quick wash in a fountain was going to be sufficient?

Fine
, Lyrra thought irritably as she opened one of her saddlebags and took out a linen shift.
That’s just fine. If he wants to pretend we’re in the middle of nowhere in the human world instead of at a Clan house and we need to make do with whatever we’ve got, that’s just fine
. She
drew the small knife out of its sheath in her boot and cut the linen shift into bandages.

Aiden stood up, shivering and definitely unsteady on his feet. He dropped the ruined shirt beside the fountain.

“Are you done?” Lyrra asked tartly. She bit her tongue.
Now you’re sounding like one of those wives who starts all the trouble in certain stories
.

Aiden just nodded.

She saw nothing but weariness in his face, as if all the emotional fire in him had been quenched. She wrapped his hands, then made a pad to cover the worst of the scrapes on his side, securing it with more strips of linen that she tied around him. When she was done, she studied her makeshift bandages and suppressed a sigh. They would serve until she could find something better.

“You need a shirt,” she said, turning toward the horses. Then she froze for a moment. Almost all his clothing was in his saddlebags. Gone now. Well, there was still the fine garb he wore for special occasions. That was on the packhorse. At least he still had that much — and his instruments. Those would have been a crueler loss than the clothing. Clothes could be replaced, and the only other thing in the saddlebags …

It hit her like a blow. She absorbed the emotional punch, then pushed it aside.

She reached for the bag that held his fine garb.

“No,” Aiden said. “I won’t wear that. Not here.”

Knowing her emotions were too raw and anything she said would be regretted later, she just glared at him. “You need a shirt.”

“No, I don’t.”

There was a hint of pleading in his voice that almost broke her heart.

“Let’s ride, Lyrra.” Aiden closed his eyes for a moment. “Let’s just ride.”

Where?
But she didn’t ask. She mounted the mare and waited for him to mount behind her.

Falco handed her the packhorse’s lead rope. “You’re going to try the other bridge?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” Aiden said. “We’re taking the shining road back to Sylvalan.”

She couldn’t see how that was going to help them, but she didn’t argue. She smiled at Falco, hoping to convey some of her gratitude for his friendship and help. “Blessings of the day to you, Falco,” she said softly.

“And to you, Lyrra. Aiden.” Falco stepped back.

Suddenly aware of the Fae who were watching from the terraces on this side of the Clan house, Lyrra sat up straight in the saddle. “Be careful, Falco,” she whispered.

She guided the horses around the fountain, keeping them to a walk until they were past the grounds of the Clan house and she saw the stones that marked the shining road. She urged the horses to a canter, tried to prepare herself for any reluctance they might have after being terrified on the bridge. But both horses pricked their ears and increased their speed, as if the safety and reassurance they wanted was at the other end of the road.

Maybe it is
, Lyrra thought.

She heard Aiden’s soft moan as they reached the shining road. She felt him shudder and press his head against her shoulder.

With her mouth pressed in a grim line, she kept the horses in the center of the shining road.

Not much longer, Aiden, love
, she thought. And once they returned to the human world? Then what? She couldn’t answer that. Didn’t want to think about it. Right now, she needed to find some help for Aiden.

When they reached the end of the shining road, Lyrra tried to rein in the mare, but the animal fought the bit, swerving toward a wide game trail. Not in the mood to argue with a horse, Lyrra let the mare canter along the trail
and wondered if the animal had any sense of where it was going.

Apparently it did. A few minutes later, they reached the green lawn and gardens behind the manor house. Lyrra caught a glimpse of Keely and Breanna working in the garden before the mare swerved again, heading straight for the stable block.

Seeing them, Clay left the horse he was grooming and walked toward them quickly.

“Easy now,” Clay called. “Go easy now.”

The mare and packhorse slowed to a walk, blowing and sweating.

Clay held his hands out, palms up.

The horses walked right to him, lipped his empty palms.

“Looks like you’ve had a bit of trouble,” Clay said.

“Yes,” Lyrra replied. She felt Aiden shudder, felt that shudder travel from his body into hers.

“Lyrra. Aiden.” Breanna approached from the side, sounding a little breathless as she slowed to a walk to avoid startling the horses. “What’s —? Oh, Mother’s mercy. Come on now. Come on. We’ll get him into the house.”

Clay took the lead rope from Lyrra. “I’ll take care of the packhorse. Breanna, you lead the mare to the house; then let her go to come back to the stables.”

Breanna gripped the reins just under the bit and led the reluctant mare to the house. Nuala and Keely waited at the kitchen door.

Breathing heavily, Aiden dismounted. Nuala and Keely helped him into the house.

Lyrra dismounted, then grabbed the saddle, her legs suddenly feeling as if she had no bone in them. “Clay has a way with horses.”

“A gift from his father, which was the only thing his father ever gave him,” Breanna replied with enough of an edge that Lyrra flinched. “Mother’s tits. That wasn’t a
thrust at
you.”
She released the mare and wrapped an arm around Lyrra’s waist when the horse trotted back to the stables. “Where’s Aiden’s horse?”

Tears filled Lyrra’s eyes, spilled over. “Gone.”

“Here, now.” Breanna led Lyrra to the bench beside the kitchen door. “Sit down and rest. There now. There you go.”

Shaking, Lyrra sank down on the bench.

“Are you hurt?” Breanna asked, resting a hand on Lyrra’s shoulder.

Lyrra shook her head. Her body wasn’t hurt, but her heart … She was certain her heart was sorely bruised.

“I’ll be right back. Just rest.”

Lyrra leaned back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. She heard quiet sounds, murmuring voices in the kitchen. But not Aiden’s. Why couldn’t she hear Aiden?

She stirred, almost too weary to make the effort. Wouldn’t have tried at all if she didn’t need to find out about Aiden.

She turned toward the kitchen door just as Breanna stepped out carrying two tankards and a plate of bread and cheese.

“Can you walk as far as the tree?” Breanna asked.

“Aiden?”

“Gran is taking care of things. She has the touch for it.” She smiled. “And she figures he’ll stay more docile if he doesn’t feel that he has to act manly for your benefit.”

Lyrra followed Breanna to the bench under the tree.

“Fresh cider?” Lyrra said after taking a sip from one of the tankards.

Breanna made a face. “Let’s just say there was an … incident … with Idjit and some of the stored apples. So there’s plenty of fresh cider and apple tarts.”

Lyrra started to smile, picturing Breanna dealing with the small black dog, but as she glanced back at the house, the smile faltered.

“What happened, Lyrra?” Breanna asked softly. “Were you attacked?”

“No.”
Not in the way you mean
.

“Where’s Aiden’s horse?”

The tears came again. “Gone.”

“Stolen?”

Lyrra shook her head. “It fell off the edge of the world.”

“Mother’s mercy.” Breanna paused. “And everything Aiden was carrying with him was lost with it?”

“His clothes and personal things, yes.”

“What about…” Breanna bit her lip. “I wasn’t trying to pry, and I truly didn’t look, but I noticed the papers when I emptied your saddlebags the other day to have the clothes washed. Those were his songs, weren’t they?”

“Yes.”

Breanna looked so sad, Lyrra wasn’t sure she could stand it.

“His songs are gone?” Breanna asked.

“He still has them. In his h-hands and his heart.” Lyrra gulped, trying to stop the sobs that were swelling in her throat.

Breanna took the tankard and set it at the end of the bench with her own and the plate. She slid over, gathered Lyrra in her arms. “Cry it out. Gran says sometimes tears are the only way to wash out the heart’s wounds.”

Lyrra let grief and the terror she’d felt in Tir Alainn flow through the tears. With her head resting on Breanna’s shoulder, she told the witch about the bridge collapsing and her gut-deep fear when Aiden hung there at the edge of the world.

“He seems like a good man,” Breanna said slowly. “Why would the rest of the Fae do nothing to help him?”

Lyrra hesitated; then she said carefully, “He believes, as I do, that the witches are the House of Gaian.”

Breanna shrugged. “Why should that matter to the rest of them? We
are
the House of Gaian.”

Lyrra raised her head. Sat up slowly. “You remember that?”

Breanna tipped her head, obviously puzzled. “We live at the foot of the Mother’s Hills. How could we forget?”

“Some … Well, we’ve actually met only one other witch to speak to, and
she
didn’t know.” Only the Crones in Ari’s family did, after reading the journals of those who had come before them.

Breanna looked in the direction of the hills. “If they’ve forgotten who they are, what else did they forget?”

“I don’t know. But Ari … Ari was someone I would have liked to have as a friend. I wish there had been time to know her better.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s …She disappeared after the Black Coats came.”

Breanna sighed. “Well, I’ll mention it to Gran. This may be something the elders should know about — if they don’t already. But that’s for Gran to decide.” She handed the tankard to Lyrra, folded a piece of bread around a slice of cheese. “Here. Have a bite to eat, and drink the cider. Are you tired?”

Weary to the marrow of her bones. “I’ll do. Why?”