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Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Anne Bishop
  3. Also by Anne Bishop
  4. THE HOUSE OF GAIAN
  5. Copyright
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. Chapter 1
  8. Chapter 2
  9. Chapter 3
  10. Chapter 4
  11. Chapter 5
  12. Chapter 6
  13. Chapter 7
  14. Chapter 8
  15. Chapter 9
  16. Chapter 10
  17. Chapter 11
  18. Chapter 12
  19. Chapter 13
  20. Chapter 14
  21. Chapter 15
  22. Chapter 16
  23. Chapter 17
  24. Chapter 18
  25. Chapter 19
  26. Chapter 20
  27. Chapter 21
  28. Chapter 22
  29. Chapter 23
  30. Chapter 24
  31. Chapter 25
  32. Chapter 26
  33. Chapter 27
  34. Chapter 28
  35. Chapter 29
  36. Chapter 30
  37. Chapter 31
  38. Chapter 32
  39. Chapter 33
  40. Chapter 34
  41. Chapter 35
  42. Chapter 36
  43. Chapter 37
  44. Chapter 38
  45. Chapter 39
  46. Chapter 40
  47. Chapter 41
  48. Chapter 42
  49. Chapter 43
  50. Chapter 44
  51. Chapter 45
  52. Chapter 46
  53. Chapter 47
  54. Chapter 48
  55. Chapter 49
  56. Chapter 50
  57. Chapter 51
  58. Chapter 52
  59. Chapter 53
  60. Chapter 54
  61. Chapter 55

As she and Falco started walking toward the kitchen garden and the bales of hay, Breanna glanced back at Liam. Which part of him would win the inner struggle—brother or man? She suspected she already knew, but she hoped the man would struggle long enough for her to try a kiss or two before the brother joined her and Falco for target practice.

Chapter 4

waning moon

Standing in the doorway of the Clan house, Ashk hesitated, wanting some excuse to delay. But everything was ready; the huntsmen who were going with her had already gone up the shining road to Tir Alainn, and her companions were waiting for her.

She studied them as they talked quietly among themselves, all of them carefully avoiding glances at the Clan house to allow her a private good-bye.

Aiden and Lyrra, the Bard and the Muse, were coming with her to record the events that would alter their world in one way or another and to use their gift of words to help her in whatever way they could. Sheridan, Bretonwood’s Lord of the Hawks, was coming as one of her huntsmen—chosen from others because he was also Morphia’s lover. As the Sleep Sister and Lady of Dreams, Morphia’s ability to use sleep as a defensive weapon had proved useful when hunting down the nighthunters and when she had stopped two Inquisitors from hurting a family during the Black Coats’ attack on Bretonwood, but there was no way to tell how effective that gift would be on a battlefield. Morphia was mainly coming with them in order to stay close to her sister, Morag.

And Morag…

The Gatherer had looked so pale and shaken when she’d joined them for the morning meal, Ashk hadn’t dared ask what was wrong. They needed Morag, not just as mercy for the mortally wounded but as a warrior. Would she falter when she was needed most because of her passion for life?

No. Morag would do what needed to be done. And so would she.

“You’re going now.”

Ashk turned around. Padrick stood back from the doorway, not quite within arm’s reach. “Yes. It’s time.”

Then she was in his arms, taking and giving a kiss that was as fierce as it was loving. She didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to leave their children, didn’t want to leave the Clan that had become her people. But they couldn’t wait for the battle to come to them. Not if they wanted to survive.

Padrick broke the kiss, then buried his face against her neck. “Come back to me, Ashk. Just…come back to me.”

Tears stung her eyes. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t promise him that. Instead, she whispered, “I will hold you in my heart. Always.”

He stepped back slowly until they were no longer touching. “They’re waiting for you.”