Chapters (61)
- Cover
- Praise for Anne Bishop
- Also by Anne Bishop
- THE HOUSE OF GAIAN
- Copyright
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
The creed had shaped her life. Now it felt like a cherished luxury she had to wrap up and put away. The pang of regret was sharp enough to cut, and she hoped with all her heart that before too many seasons passed, she would be able to wrap herself in that creed again.
“Come along then,” she said. “We’d better tell the others and make sure we’re as prepared as we can be for whatever the Inquisitors are aiming at us.”
As she released Liam’s hand and walked toward the house, she suddenly realized Liam and Varden were following her, intent on listening carefully to what she was sensing, feeling, seeing in the world around her.
She watched Falco glide toward the house, land, and change into his human form.
Witches were the bridge between Fae and human. They’d always been the bridge, even if none of them had realized it. But she was the link here because her brother was a baron and the man who would soon be her lover was Fae—and because the Small Folk and the other witches in this Old Place would obey her commands.
Nuala had been right. She carried a burden that went beyond her home and the Old Place in her family’s care. And now, as she reached the kitchen doorway, she felt the entire weight of that burden.
Chapter 24
waxing moon
Selena shifted restlessly, tangling the covers as the dream tangled her mind.
The ground trembled. Not a disturbance that rose up from the land, but a force upon it. Rhythmic. Steady. Something that would be familiar if it weren’t so strong.
Rhythmic. Steady.
One-two. One-two.
She recognized it now. Thousands of feet marching, striking the ground at the same time, making it tremble.
Turning around, she saw the small waterfall and pool that was in one of the gardens at the school where the Grandmothers taught young witches. Now a small willow tree grew beside it. As she watched the play of sunlight and shadow on the leaves, she noticed a pink tinge to the water falling over stone. A pink tinge that deepened into bright red. The water thickened, splashing the willow’s leaves. Staining them red. Clots plopped on stone, slithered to the edge and clung there before falling into the pool that looked so dark it was almost black, hiding the things she sensed floating just beneath the surface.
And the ground trembled.
Stumbling out of bed, Selena half fell across the other narrow bed in the room, and gave Gwynith a hard shake.
“Wha’?” Gwynith mumbled.
“Get up,” Selena said. She held a finger near the bedside candle. Fire leaped to the wick. Satisfied, she pulled off her nightgown, rolled it into a ball, then stuffed it into her saddlebags. Cursing softly, she pulled it out again to reach the clean underclothes.