She wouldn’t think of that. She wouldn’t.
Safe harbor. Oh, Mihail, come back to safe harbor.
They were expected. As the last sails were lowered and the anchor dropped to bring the ship gently to the long dock, Jenny saw the men on the stony beach. Many held crossbows. Others held the hooks used to gaff big fish.
She waited in the bow while the lines were secured and the gangplank lowered, studying the men. Studying the man. He didn’t look that different from the other men on the beach, but there was something about Lord Murtagh that made him stand out. An arrogance in his stance perhaps. Or just a sense of power. She wasn’t sure. She’d never met any Fae until coming to Sealand, and she’d never met one of the Fae who ruled a gift.
Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Breanna wouldn’t falter, Jenny thought. Breanna wouldn’t back away from meeting a Fae Lord if that’s what it took to get what she needed. Mother’s tits. Breanna would yell at the Lightbringer himself if she got riled enough.
Thinking about Breanna produced an ache around her heart, but she felt calmer when the ship’s captain carefully escorted her down the gangplank to the dock where the Lord of the Selkies now waited for her.
After the ship’s captain introduced them, Murtagh smiled at her. “What brings Sealand’s water witch to Selkie Island?”
“I have a favor to ask,” Jenny replied.
Murtagh looked down at her feet. “You’re wearing sensible boots. Good. Let’s take a walk.” He held out his hand.
She hesitated for a moment before taking his hand.
He seemed amused by that, which annoyed her enough to match his stride as he led her off the dock to a set of steps carved into the cliff. The steps were wide enough for two people, and only the first few steps put a person at risk of taking a fall onto the beach. At the first landing, the steps angled away from the beach and were protected by the cliff on both sides. Another landing and another flight of steps brought them to the top of the cliff.
After leading her a little ways away from the edge, Murtagh released her hand.
Jenny looked around. A footpath followed the cliff. Another, wider path led to the stone cottages. Bright splashes of color indicated flower beds. She guessed the low stone walls she could see behind some cottages were the kitchen gardens. Not so different from Sealand, but a much, much smaller village.
“This is your Clan?” Jenny asked hesitantly.
“Some of it,” Murtagh replied. Then he laughed. “There are little villages scattered all over the island. All together, they make up the Clan here at Selkie Island. Why crowd everyone into one place? And while everyone here chooses to live on the island, not everyone’s heart belongs to the sea.”
“Oh. I—I don’t know much about the Fae yet.” Did that sound lame? That sounded lame.
“You’ll learn.” Murtagh smiled at her. “Let’s walk.”
After a few minutes, warmed by the sun and the exercise, Jenny pulled off her cloak. Murtagh took it from her and slung it over his shoulder.
Since Murtagh didn’t seem inclined to break the silence, Jenny asked, “You have no witches on the island?”
“We have a few. This whole island is an Old Place, so some have found their way here over the years. There’s two hedge witches—sisters—who grow herbs and make medicines for the healers. There’s my sister—”
“Your sister?”
“—who lives in a dell at the center of the island because the sea can’t compete with the feel of earth beneath her hands. And there’s my grandmother, who has danced with the sea since she was a young maid who was lured here by a selkie Lord. His affection was about as constant as the tide, but I’ve always suspected she knew that and the island was more of a lure for her than he was. Of course, she might have returned to the mainland after a while if another selkie Lord hadn’t been waiting for a chance to take his rival’s place.”
“How convenient,” Jenny muttered, understanding much better the ship captain’s comments about maids being lured by moonlight and the sea.
“I think so,” Murtagh replied. “A persistent lover can be a powerful force in the world, and he was everything his rival was not.”
“And how long did he stay?”
“They were together until a few years ago, when one of Death’s Servants took his spirit to the Shadowed Veil.”
“Was your father as constant?” She was sorry she’d asked, because he stopped walking and just stared at the sea.
“It’s hard to say,” Murtagh finally said. “Even for a selkie, there are dangers in the sea. He went out one day and never came back. Now my mother was another story. She was from a southern Clan. He must have cared for her, because he stayed with her—and stayed away from the sea—until my sister was born two years after I was. The southern Fae don’t allow half-breeds in their precious pieces of Tir Alainn. She didn’t know my father wasn’t pure Fae until my sister was born—a babe who didn’t look Fae. She demanded that my father take the two of us down to the human world and abandon us. Instead he abandoned her and brought us back here. He disappeared a few months later. My grandparents raised me and my sister.”
“Why did you tell me this?” Jenny asked softly.
Murtagh turned away from the sea and looked at her. “So you would know I understand about family. I’m keeping watch for your brother’s ship.”
“I know. Cordell said you would. But…”
“What favor do you want from the Lord of the Selkies?”
“I’d like to stay here for a few days.” Jenny raised her hands, then let them fall to her sides. “Foolish, I know, but—”
“But once he passes this island, he’ll have clear sailing back to Sealand…and safe harbor. The sooner you know that, the easier you’ll feel.”
“Yes.”
“Then stay. Gran will be pleased to have company.”
“Gran?”
Murtagh grinned. “You’re welcome to stay with me, but I think you’d be more comfortable guesting with my grandmother.”
“Yes,” Jenny murmured, feeling flustered. She didn’t want to stay with him. She really didn’t. But she hadn’t expected him to anticipate that and provide the solution.
His expression serious now, Murtagh brushed his fingertips down one side of her face. “You’re easy on the eyes, Lady Jennyfer, and if times were different, I would have given considerable thought to courting you by moonlight and the songs of the sea. But I think, right now, you need a friend more than a lover. So I’m offering a friend’s hand rather than a lover’s kiss. Is that all right with you?”
She clasped the hand he held out to her. “Yes.”
He studied her. “Is there something else?”
“I wish—” She pressed her lips together.
“You wish…?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. It’s foolish.”
Keeping her hand in his, he started walking back to the harbor. “Wishes may not be granted, but they’re never foolish. What is it you wish?”
“I have kin who live near the Mother’s Hills. Some of the family was heading there overland so that not all of us would be together in case…in case we couldn’t get past the eastern barons. My cousin Breanna…I wish I could send her a letter, letting her know where I am.”
“She holds a special place in your heart,” Murtagh said after a small silence.
“Yes.” Jenny smiled, remembering a summer when the two of them had changed a storm by celebrating it.
“Then write your letter.”
Her smile faded. “I couldn’t risk it. If the letter was confiscated by a baron or magistrate controlled by the Inquisitors, they would know about her, know where to find her—and my other kin as well.”
Murtagh snorted. “This is an Old Place, and you’re among the Fae. I’ll send your letter by messenger. He’ll travel through Tir Alainn. Your letter will get to your cousin safely, that I can promise you.” He smiled at her as he led he
r toward the cottage closest to the sea. “You see? It wasn’t such a foolish wish after all.”
Chapter 16
waxing moon
“But I thought we were going north!” Gwynith almost wailed as she hastily closed her canteen.
“We were. Now we’re not.” Selena attached her own canteen to Mistrunner’s saddle and mounted. While Gwynith and the two escorts who had remained with them scrambled to mount their horses, she studied the Mother’s Hills rising up in the distance. A hard day’s ride would take them to the foothills. By midday tomorrow, she would reach her destination.
Written on water. Whispered on the wind. How long had the Crones been sending the messages? Should she take the time to call up a wind and send back an answer? No. Best to get there as quickly as she could.
Written on water. Whispered on the wind. But not in Tir Alainn. Barren air. Barren water. Barren earth in another generation if the Fae didn’t come to understand the reality of their land hidden above the world.
She shouldn’t have gone back to the Fair Land after she went down to the Old Place and guested with Ella’s family overnight. She shouldn’t have listened to Gwynith’s argument that they could travel north faster by using the bridges between the Clan territories—and also that it would be wise to let other Clans meet the new Huntress. Had Gwynith known staying in Tir Alainn would isolate her, would keep her from the information she could draw from the Mother’s four branches?
She looked at the woman anxiously waiting beside her. No, Gwynith hadn’t known, and her arguments for continuing to travel through Tir Alainn had been sound. Hopefully the Crones would see it the same way.
“Huntress?” There was a hint of wariness in Gwynith’s voice. “If we’re not going north, where are we going?”
Selena pointed. “There.” She looked back and saw the tension in the escorts’faces. She looked at Gwynith and noticed how pale the other woman had become.
“We’re—We’re going into the Mother’s Hills?” Gwynith asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s where I have to go,” Selena replied. “It’s not something you have to do.” She didn’t understand the Fae’s reaction to the Mother’s Hills, but she’d quickly realized where she came from had frightened the Clans who had been her reluctant hosts as much as what she could do. “It’s just land,” she added soothingly. Which wasn’t quite true. Not after so many generations of witches had lived there, loved there, danced there, taken their last breaths there.
“It’s the House of Gaian,” Gwynith said.
“Yes, it is. Why does that bother you? You live with witches in your own Old Place.”
“Not so many. And—” Gwynith faltered. “What if they object to Fae being in their land?”
“Do no harm, and you’ll come to no harm.” Selena gathered Mistrunner’s reins. His ears pricked. “I have to go, Gwynith. When the Grandmothers send a message, a Granddaughter does not ignore it.”
Gwynith’s eyes widened. “But you’re the Lady of the Moon now. You’re the Queen of the Witches.”
Selena laughed and felt her own tension drain away. “That might impress them long enough to cool a cup of tea. After that, I’m just a Granddaughter again.” She smiled at Gwynith. “You don’t have to come. You can go north, or you can go home if that’s what you’d rather do.”
Gwynith studied the Mother’s Hills, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We’ll go with you.”
Selena wondered, and not for the first time, if Gwynith was being so helpful to help her or to be able to send reports to the Hunter about the new Lady of the Moon. Right now, it didn’t matter. “Then let’s ride.”
Chapter 17
waxing moon
Liam leaned back in his chair and looked at the other five barons, who were once more gathered around his dining room table. He found it a strange twist of events that the Inquisitors’ attempt to kill him after the barons’ council earlier that summer had resulted in this delegation of midland barons arriving at Willowsbrook to find out why he, and Padrick, had left Durham so hastily. Because of that, the fate of Sylvalan would be decided here. “That’s it, then.”
“That’s it,” Donovan agreed, while the other barons nodded. “The midland barons will gather men from their counties and march north and south to block the roads to the midlands, using the Mother’s Hills as a natural barrier. The barons nearest the western bay will send men there to keep the Inquisitors’ army from coming in by sea. We’ll assume Baron Padrick will lead the western barons in defending the west coastline.” He raked a hand through his hair. “And if he truly does have the Fae as allies, he’s got a stronger fighting force than the rest of us put together. If you’ll write a letter to him, telling him our intentions, I’ll send a courier to Breton as soon as I return home. We can’t afford to have our plans fall into the hands of the Black Coats, so I’ll feel easier about handing the letter over to a rider once I’m back in the midlands.”
“I’ll write the letter this evening,” Liam said.
Donovan started tracing circles on the table with his forefinger. “There’s nothing we can do about harbors like Wellingsford unless some of the southern barons side with us.” He shook his head. “There’s not a lot we can do about a good many things. We don’t have enough fighting men. That’s what it comes down to. If it was just the eastern barons, I think we’d win. But if the barons in Arktos and Wolfram send men to swell the eastern army…I envy Padrick’s ability to ask the Fae for help.”
From the comments Falco had made to him, Liam didn’t think help from the Fae was something they could hope for. And if they asked for help from the House of Gaian…He could tell by Donovan’s carefully neutral expression the other man was thinking the same thing. If they asked for help, and got it, would the price be more than they would want to pay? One storm created by one witch had made the roads impassable for days, which was why the barons were still staying with him at Willowsbrook. If one witch could do that much, what could a hundred witches do? A thousand? Could fear of a thousand witches change to hatred of a single witch? Would a village kill one witch or a family of witches to avoid having to live near that kind of power? Was that how it started in Arktos and Wolfram? Had the Inquisitors started out as protectors and defenders, only to become the next power to be feared?
He thought of Breanna and Gwenn and Fiona. Temper and laughter. Passion and compassion. And power balanced by a creed they’d been taught from the cradle.
“Liam?”
He smiled ruefully at Donovan. “Sorry. My mind wandered.” He was about to suggest that they adjourn from the dining room to let the servants set the table for the midday meal when Sloane opened the door after a brief knock.
“A messenger, Baron Liam,” Sloane said. “From Old Willowsbrook.”
The announcement was swiftly followed by one of Donovan’s guards, who had a firm grip on a flushed, excited boy.
“There’s men in the woods!” the boy said. “Armed men. On horses. Clay sent me to warn you.”
Liam leaped to his feet. His mother and little sister were still living at the Old Place with Breanna and her kin. And Donovan’s wife, Gwenn, was there as well, visiting.
“How many men?” Donovan demanded.
“Lots!” the boy replied.
That doesn’t help much, Liam thought, as he ran to the stables, shouting for the grooms to get the horses saddled. Donovan ran with him, followed by the other barons.
“Liam,” one of the barons said, puffing. “We”—he gestured to the other four barons—“aren’t fighters, but our guards are good men, skilled with weapons. They’ll go with you.”
Before Liam could agree, Donovan said, “Two from each of you would be welcome.” He turned to Liam. “You can’t leave this place completely undefended.”
In case those men weren’t heading for the manor house in the Old Place but were coming to deal with the upstart young baron who had spoiled the eastern barons’ chance to get the v
otes they needed for the decrees they wanted passed. And he couldn’t leave four barons who now carried the weight of being leaders in the coming fight for Sylvalan’s survival to the mercy of whoever might be out there.
“Agreed,” he said, swinging into his gelding’s saddle. He wished Oakdancer was there, then decided the stallion was better at the Old Place. The horse could carry two riders. If it came to that, he could toss Breanna and his little sister Brooke onto Oak-dancer’s back and tell the horse to run to the Mother’s Hills—and the stallion would run until it killed him if that’s what it took. “Send someone to Squire Thurston’s estate. He’ll rouse the villagers and the farms.”
He put his heels into the gelding, sending the animal bolting out of the stableyard and up the lane that would lead to the stone bridge. A few moments later, Donovan caught up to him, the guards strung out behind them as each man finished saddling his mount and followed.
They slowed when they reached the bridge. Pointless to damage a horse going over the stones carelessly—and he remembered the other reason why it was prudent to approach slowly when he saw a small flash of movement near the bank.
“There are men in the woods,” he said, raising his voice. “I beg of you, if they come this way, give what warning you can.”
“Liam,” Donovan said sharply. “What are you playing…” His words died as six water sprites rose from their hiding places.
“These are yours?” one of the water sprites asked, looking at Liam.
“Yes,” he answered.
“If they throw a copper in the water each time they cross into the Old Place, they will come to no harm,” the water sprite said.
“Why a copper?” Liam shifted in the saddle. They were wasting time!
The sprite smiled in a way that chilled him. “Because then we will know they are yours, and we will let them pass.”
Donovan stood up in the stirrups, shoved a hand in his pocket, and came up with a few coins. “I don’t have enough coppers for all of us. Will you accept a silver coin this time?”