Chapter Twenty-two
Michael spread the blanket at the top of a gentle slope that led down to the lake. Maybe he should have offered to set things up where there was a bit of shade, despite the coolness of the day, but right now he needed to feel the sun’s warmth seeping into him, and he didn’t think Glorianna, despite being so fair-skinned, wanted to hide her face from the sun today either.
“You’re more practical than my brother,” Glorianna said as she walked up to him, her saddlebags over one shoulder.
“How so?” He smoothed the last corner, feeling more awkward than the first time he’d had a private picnic with a girl. Woman, really. She had been older than him and knew a few things he was more than willing to learn. Still, that first time with a new girl, when a boy wasn’t sure if he’d get a hand cracked across his face or if the girl would smile and say “more,” always made the heart beat a little harder.
“Lee would have put the blanket on the slope and then gotten stubborn about moving it until he’d spilled something on himself. You chose flat ground.”
“I prefer eating food to wearing it.” The image flashed into his mind, of him dipping his fingers into whipped cream and mounding it, ever so gently, over her bare breasts. No need to add a berry on top because the berry—
“Are you all right?” Glorianna asked. “You look flushed.”
“I’m fine.” He shifted on the blanket and sat in a way he hoped would hide just how fine he was feeling.
She waited for a beat, then set the saddlebags down on the blanket. “Why don’t you set out what’s there while I get the rest.”
He winced at the tone but didn’t offer to get up and help. Despite feeling troubled by what he had seen during their ride that morning, this was the first time they had been alone since he’d showed up on her island, and he was hoping for a little romance before they got back to Lighthaven’s community. He didn’t want to scare her off by having her notice just how ready he was for a little romance.
“This is a clever idea,” he said with hearty enthusiasm as he lifted the container of cold chicken out of one saddlebag, followed by the water skin that had been nestled beneath it. Judging by the way her eyebrows rose, maybe he’d sounded a bit too hearty. “Well, it is,” he muttered.
“No one has ever thought to fill up a water skin and put it in the ice house overnight, and then use it to keep food fresh when you’re traveling?”
“If someone has, I haven’t heard of it.”
They divided the food, then settled down to eat.
As long as he kept his eyes away from the lake, he could enjoy having a picnic with the woman who heated his blood and warmed his heart, and could imagine them having more times like this, a lifetime of days like this. But the lake always intruded.
“It’s not a natural fog, is it?” he asked, turning his head to look at the lake—and the fog that still shrouded its surface.
“Since that is the nature of this lake, you could call it natural,” Glorianna replied.
He shook his head. “If it was just fog, it would have burned off by now.”
Setting aside the bones of the chicken leg she’d devoured, she delicately licked her fingers clean. Watching her just about broke his restraint.
“Fog obscures,” Glorianna said. “It hides things—dangerous pieces of ground…or dangerous facets of a person’s nature. It’s also a warning about the nature of a landscape, that the Dark currents are strong there.”
“Lady of Light, have mercy,” Michael murmured, dropping his head to his raised knees.
“Michael?”
Her hand on his shoulder, a comforting stroke. He turned his head to look at her. “The place I wanted you to see is called Foggy Downs. They’re good people, Glorianna. I was hoping you would know how to help them.”
“Wanted me to see?”
She was closing herself off from him, backing away emotionally. He could see it in her face. When she stretched out on her back and stared at the sky, he knew he’d slipped badly, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done to upset her.
Then he thought about what he’d said and just sighed. No point chiding himself for words being taken in a way he hadn’t meant. At least he knew how to fix this.
He packed up the remains of their meal and set it aside. Then he stretched out beside her, propped on one elbow so he could see her face.
“I still want you to see it,” he said quietly. “I want that for myself and for those people. But I’m beginning to understand how much weight you already carried on your shoulders, and now you have more. I don’t want to add to the burden more than I’ve already done.”
She’d been staring straight up, ignoring his closeness even though his face must have blocked half her view of the sky. Now she frowned, and those green eyes shifted to look straight into his.
“Ever since I met you, you’ve been helping my family in one way or another—and putting aside your own tasks to do it. You haven’t been on your island looking after your own because you’ve been looking after me and mine.”
She gave him an odd look. “What makes you think one is different from the other?”
Am I yours? Something in him shimmered with joy, and for a moment he could have sworn the air tasted sweeter and the sun shone brighter. Suddenly, this delicate connection between them was more important than anything else in the world. Her feelings were more important than anything else.
He shifted until he halfway covered her, so that, when she looked up, he was all she would see.
“If I’m yours, how would you feel about a few kisses?” he asked, giving her a smile that was equal parts playfulness and charm in an effort to lighten the mood.
She looked more amused than charmed. “Why are you so interested in kisses?”
He did his best to shift his expression to confused sincerity. “I’m a man.”
Laughter lit her eyes while she struggled to keep a straight face. “I suppose we could indulge in a few kisses.”
“Maybe more than a few,” he said, touching his lips to the corner of her mouth as he changed the tone of the song forming between them. “But not more than kisses. Not here. Not today.” He raised his head and saw the confusion in her eyes. “Not for our first time. For that, I want a bed…and candlelight. I want to drift on the scent of your skin and float on the touch of your hand. And in all the years to follow, when we’re laughing and quarreling and living, I want to see the memory of that first time shine in your eyes whenever I touch you, fill you, love you. I want that, Glorianna, for both of us. So, for today, I promise nothing but kisses.”
“Do you keep your promises, Magician?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.
He brushed his lips against hers. “I do.” And the truth of that was bittersweet. “I most certainly do.”
Then his mouth closed over hers, and he spoke to her in a language that had no need of words.
Who was this man who could kiss her and make the world melt away and still had the self-control to roll to his side of the blanket and say, “Best to stop now, darling, while I still have a few brains left in my head”? How could he understand so much and still understand so little?
But he understood the land, understood what he was seeing—and not seeing. It had sobered both of them after they’d gathered up their things and continued the ride.
No word was spoken, but they both reined in as soon as they came within sight of Lighthaven’s buildings.
“Well,” Michael said. “It could have been worse. There’s fresh water and fish in the streams. There’s woodland, so there’s game for food and wood for the fires. And there are meadows and pastureland and the acreage that’s been farmed.”
“The land is sound and can sustain itself,” Glorianna agreed. “Can the people?” She noted his reluctance to look at her and had her answer. Unfortunately, it matched her own opinion of the people who tended this Place of Light. “They hobbled themselves, Michael. The Places of Light tend to be separated from th
e world around them because, long ago, the Guardians who took up the task of nurturing the Light decided that a simple life helped the heart and mind remain at peace. But the people who live in those places usually are not without resources…or knowledge. They may live simple lives, but there is nothing simple about their skills. If isolated, they could survive.”
“Until they died out.” Now he looked at her. “I don’t know how it is in the other Places of Light, but I’m not blind to the look and feel of this place, Glorianna. Lighthaven belongs to the Ladies of Light. Men may come up from Atwater and the surrounding farms to do manual labor—of all sorts—” he added in a mutter, remembering the hungry, speculative looks he’d gotten from some of the younger Sisters while he was saddling the horses. “But they don’t live here. And I’m thinking we’re not going to find anyone outside this community on this land. Not a cottage, not a farm. No one.”
“My concern is more immediate,” she said. “How many of these women have ever nocked an arrow to a bow and gone out to hunt their dinner? How many have chopped down a tree or even chopped wood? How many have thrown a line in the water to catch fish? How many have tilled the land before they planted a kitchen garden? What about feed for the animals? Oats? Hay?”
He swore softly and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Well, can’t you—no, I guess it would be Lee, wouldn’t it—can’t he put in one of those bridges?”
“To go where?” She waited to see if he understood the question, but there was only confusion.
Reminding herself that, until a few days ago, his view of the world had been fairly linear, and a straight road between two places actually would have taken him between one place and the other, she dismounted and gave the horse a long rein so it could graze while she gave the man her full attention.
He hesitated, as if trying to figure out the reason for her action, then did the same.
“Borders and boundaries.” She fisted her hands and held them out, pressed together. “When two similar landscapes belong to the same Landscaper, they can be fitted together as a border—a place where people can cross over without using a bridge.”
“Like the Den butting up against the part of Elandar where the waterhorses dwell?” Michael asked.
“Yes, like that. The waterhorses are demons and live in a dark landscape. The Den is a dark landscape inhabited by humans and demons. Both are mine, and they resonate with each other.”
He brushed a finger over her fists, pausing at the line made where they were pressed together. “It’s a wonder, isn’t it, that two places physically so far apart can be reached just by stepping over a line.”
She separated her fists, leaving a fist-sized gap between them. “Boundaries are formed between the pieces of the world that belong to different Landscapers and also between places that belong to the same Landscaper but don’t resonate with each other in a way that forms a border. Those require bridges in order for people to cross over from one to the other. Even then, a stationary bridge can be created only between two landscapes that want to be connected. The hearts in both of those places have to want something that forms a link. Do you understand, Michael?”
“I think so.” He frowned at her fists, then tapped one. “Lighthaven.” Tapped the other. “The rest of the White Isle. Two…landscapes…now. Two Landscapers.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“So…” He tapped a finger on one fist, then formed an imaginary arch to the other fist. “Lee makes one of his bridges and connects—”
“No.” This was going to hurt him. She knew him well enough now, could feel the depth of his heart and know this would hurt him. “Heart wishes are powerful magic, Magician. A true heart wish can change your life. It can change the world. In those moments when Ephemera was manifesting the heart wishes that were reshaping this part of itself, two women said in anger, ‘I don’t want you.’ And they meant it, Michael. They meant it.” She lowered her fists, watched him physically brace for the verbal blow. “These two landscapes will reject each other because the hearts that Ephemera used to define these landscapes had rejected each other. So these landscapes can’t meet. At least, not right now. Maybe never. Lee could build a thousand bridges to connect Lighthaven to the White Isle, and every one of them would fail.”
“But…” He sank to his knees. “Does Caitlin know?”
She crouched in front of him. “No. And there’s no reason to tell her. Not yet.”
“She’s not a child,” Michael said, the snap of temper in his voice. “Don’t you think she should know what she’s done?”
“Not yet.” She touched his cheek. He immediately reached up to press her palm against his face, holding on to the contact. “She’s been told for so long where she doesn’t belong. Let’s find the place where she does belong. I said it yesterday, and I’ll say it again. No one who stood by that gate was innocent, and no one is more to blame than the others for what has happened to the White Isle.”
“I started this,” he said, his voice rough with the clash of emotions. “I started this by writing a letter sixteen years ago.”
Who would have guessed the man would even think of wallowing in blame, let alone actually do it? “Opportunities and choices, Magician. You wrote a letter; Brighid chose to answer it. And she chose to have the three of you live in Raven’s Hill. She could have brought you back here to the White Isle and found a family willing to foster the two of you if it wasn’t possible for you to live with her at Lighthaven.”
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “The demon-spawn children? Our new ‘family’ would have thrown us in the sea as soon as Brighid was out of sight.”
That he believed the words was a weight on her heart. But she gave him a light kiss and stood up. “As a child, you believed that,” she said briskly. “As a man, it’s time to adjust some of those beliefs. Let’s go.”
She meant to ride on to the buildings enclosed within their stone wall. Like the Landscapers’ walled gardens. Something to think about since no other Place of Light had shut itself away quite like this. But the lake pulled at her, and she reined in a man-length from the edge and studied the black water.
Brighid had been Lighthaven’s anchor at one time. While the Guardian’s heart had maintained the simple way of life that suited a Place of Light, Glorianna suspected the ebb and flow of feelings within the community of Sisters had been more natural. For one thing, there must have been children in order for the bloodlines to continue. Therefore, there must have been lovers, however temporary.
Now Merrill was the anchor. And Merrill, so fearful of the feelings that lived within the human heart, had managed to deny the Dark currents so strongly that Ephemera had created a dark landscape to provide an outlet and a balance.
A shimmer of thought, a butterfly of feeling fluttered through her. Something there. Something to remember.
Then the moment was gone, and it was time to face the next part of the journey—and all the troubled hearts now stirring up the currents in this landscape.
Merrill brought in a tray and set it on the table before studying the woman who stood at the window, staring out at the gardens they had both helped plant so many years ago.
“Does it look the way you remember it?” Merrill asked.
“Yes,” Brighid answered quietly, sadly. “It hasn’t changed.”
“I kept it as it was. Shaela wanted to change some things, but I was the leader, and I kept it the same.” For you.
“Why didn’t you let it change?” Brighid asked, turning away from the window, the dried tracks of tears still visible on her face. “The songs that mark the waxing and waning of the day should remain the same because they are tradition. They ground the heart and give us the comfort of knowing that these same words have flowed through the air and seeped into the land going back to ancestors who are nothing more than myth. But living things should change, must change. Shaela loves you in ways I never did, never could. You should have let her change the gardens, Merrill. The two of
you should have planted something new.”
“But now that you’re back…” Something in Brighid’s face strangled the rest of the words.
“I’m not staying,” Brighid said. “Something is missing. Has always been missing. I was destined for Lighthaven, and I did my duty and came here. As much as I loved this place, it was like a shoe that should have fit but always pinched a little. I don’t know why.” She paused, then sighed. “You blamed Michael for writing the letter asking me to come to Raven’s Hill.”
“I didn’t blame you for leaving. You were obliged to stay with the children and—”
“I chose to stay.”
The steel in Brighid’s voice reminded Merrill of why Brighid had been chosen as their leader at so young an age.
Brighid shook her head. “Leaving here wasn’t a completely selfless act. Yes, the children needed me, but I also needed to go, and that letter gave me a reason to leave.”
“What was out there that you couldn’t find here?” Merrill cried.
“I don’t know!” Brighid’s voice rang with frustration. “Life. Love. Maybe something as simple as lust. I don’t know. I never found it.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. “I never found it. Just like Maureen never found whatever her heart needed. She loved Devyn. I know she did. But it wasn’t enough. And Caitlin…”
“Doesn’t belong here,” Merrill snapped, feeling the sting of rejection all over again. They were back to where they were sixteen years ago. Despite what Brighid said about things changing, nothing had changed. Nothing. “Even the other sorceress said so.”
“Guide of the Heart,” Brighid murmured. “I never thought I would stand face-to-face with a true Guide of the Heart.”
Everything should have been wonderful, but it was all breaking apart.
Merrill looked down at the cuff bracelet she had worn for so many years, thinking it had meant…
She pulled it off and held it out. “You gave me this. When you left. A family heirloom, isn’t that what you said?”