Breanna sat on the bed, feeling awkward as she watched Fiona pack. "You're welcome to stay. You know that."
Fiona joined her on the bed and rested a hand on Breanna's cheek. "I know, darling Breanna. We all know that. But the Hunter knows where Jennyfer and Mihail found safe harbor, so his wife and daughter will travel with her as far as the western bay and take a ship from there. And the rest of us . . . We have to go back."
"You don't know what you'll find there. You don't know if there's anything left."
"Then we'll start again. Build again. And one day our ships will sail down the Una River and out to sea again. But whatever we find there, it's still home. We need to reclaim what was ours."
"I understand."
Fiona's brows drew together in a worried frown. "You're welcome to come with us. You don't have to stay here alone."
Breanna forced herself to smile. "I won't be alone. Clay, Edgar, and Glynis will still be here." Neither of them mentioned Falco, who had made a fumbling excuse about needing to do something before riding away an hour ago.
Fiona went back to her packing. "You'll write to me on a regular basis, just to let me know how things are going."
"Yes, I will." Breanna stood up and hugged her cousin. "I'm glad you were here."
When she went outside a little while later, she found Falco sitting on the bench beside the kitchen door. He sprang up as soon as he saw her.
"Breanna? Could we talk?"
Why not? she thought, suddenly weary. She sank down on the bench. He sat on the other end—the polite distance required between strangers. Were there some standard phrases gentry women used when a lover was trying to say he was leaving? She'd have to ask Elinore so she'd be prepared next time. If her heart was ever willing to risk a next time.
"Breanna, maybe it's too soon, all things considered, but. . ." He reached down, picked up a basket, and set it between them. "I got this for you."
She lifted the cloth folded over the top of the basket—and stared at the sleeping black puppy. She wanted to run her fingers over that soft fur, but she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him.
"Squire Thurston's bitch had a litter," Falco said. "He wasn't going to keep them. And since he's pretty sure the wild oats the bitch got into came from here, I thought. . ."
"Wild oats?" Breanna asked, bewildered. "From here? What kind of. . . Oh." She looked at the puppy again, and her throat tightened. But she still hesitated to pet him.
"I thought he'd be company for you, once winter sets in. And I thought you'd like him better than a salmon."
"Better than—" Remembering the condition of the salmon he'd brought her, she grabbed the puppy out of the basket and cradled him against her chest. "Falco! You didn't fly over there and snatch him, did you?"
"Fly? Snatch?" Falco's eyes widened. "No. I rode over with the basket. Just got back a little while ago."
"Oh." It wasn't so hard to cuddle the puppy, who was content to be petted back to sleep. "I thought. . . after everything that's happened, I thought you'd grown tired of this world and were going back to Tir Alainn." Where it's peaceful. . . and safe.
After a long silence, he asked quietly, "Do you want to live in Tir Alainn?"
She didn't have to think about it. "No."
"Then I'm staying. I love you, Breanna. And I think. . . I think Willowsbrook needs us."
She heard it again. The same hesitation and uncertainty she'd heard when he'd finally shown himself to her in human form. He was looking for some assurance that he had a place in the world.
Smiling, she held out her hand. "Yes, Falco. Willowsbrook needs us. Both of us."
The following morning Aiden set two fresh stacks of paper at one end of the dining room table at Liam's house, made sure the quills were sharpened and the ink bottles filled. He and Lyrra would make notes of this barons' council, then combine them into one document for Liam's review and approval.
He looked at Donovan, who sat in a cushioned chair to his left. "Are you sure you should be out of bed?"
"If I didn't get out of that cursed bed, I'd either have to strangle Gwenny or have an affair with the cook. The woman has taken a fiendish delight is serving me chicken soup for two out of three meals."
"The cook?"
"No," Donovan growled. "My wife."
Aiden coughed to disguise his laughter.
Looking sulky, Donovan turned to Liam. "You've had news from the west?"
"I'll tell you when we're all gathered," Liam replied, fingering the folded sheet of paper.
To distract Donovan—and satisfy his own curiosity—Aiden asked, "You've had news as well, haven't you, Ashk?" She looked more exhausted now than she had during the days of the battle, so he was relieved to see a little color in her face again.
"From Padrick," Ashk said, smiling. "He and the children are well. And Ari gave birth to a strong, healthy boy. Padrick says Neall is hiding his disappointment in not having a daughter by wearing a silly grin, walking into walls, and generally making so much of a nuisance of himself that the Clan's Lady of the Hearth has taken to locking him out of the cottage for a couple of hours every day so that Ari and the babe can get some rest. Of course, since he sounds too sulky to be complaining just on Neall's behalf, I suspect Uncle Padrick has also been locked out of the cottage on a regular basis."
"That's wonderful news," Lyrra said, having paused in the doorway to listen. As she walked to her place at the table, she pointed at Aiden. "You should write a song."
"You should write a poem," he countered.
"We'll collaborate," she said primly, taking her seat.
Aiden leaned close to her and whispered, "We did that quite well last evening."
Watching her color rise, he busied himself with examining his quills, fully aware of the interested, and speculative, glances the barons were giving Lyrra as they walked into the room.
Ashk took her seat at the table, followed by Selena.
The table had been pushed to one side of the room so that chairs for the surviving barons who had fought at Willowsbrook could be placed in rows facing the table. Fae Lords and Sons of the House of Gaian stood against the wall, and two chairs were set to one side for Breanna and Elinore. The barons had argued that their council should be private while they decided the fate of the eastern counties ruled by the barons who had followed the Inquisitors, but Liam had insisted that the Fae and the witches should be present if they so wished since they would be affected by any decisions made here.
When everyone was assembled, Liam opened the piece of paper. "I have a message from Padrick, Baron of Breton. You are all free to examine the contents."
One of the barons waved the offer away. "Just tell us what it says, Liam."
Liam cleared his throat. "Recognizing that the fate of Sylvalan would have to be decided swiftly once the battle was won and that it would be better not to delay such discussion by waiting for those who would require days of travel to reach us here, Baron Padrick states that I have been granted a proxy vote—for all the western barons."
Stunned silence.
Aiden made hurried notes. If his understanding was clear on the way the council worked, Liam's vote counted for more than the rest of the men combined.
When no one made any comment, Liam folded the paper and set it aside. "Shall we begin?"
The door to the dining room opened. Aiden glanced up and dropped his quill, spattering ink all over the top sheet of paper. Pushing the paper aside, he retrieved the quill and dipped it in the ink pot.
"Oh, my," Lyrra whispered.
Her hair was pinned up in a becoming fashion instead of scraped back in a tight knot, and her gown was as finely made as any gentry lady's, but Aiden had no trouble recognizing Skelly's sweet granny. And the way Breanna and Selena leaped to their feet when she entered the room made him very nervous.