She nodded. “From the Clan, the village, the gentry homes, the tenant farms. Yes. All the children. And your horses.”

“You can’t protect things just because they’re mine.”

“I want Ari protected because she’s a witch, one of the Mother’s Daughters, and as she grows heavier with the babe, she won’t be able to outrun an enemy if it comes to that. You have two of the finest Fae stallions anywhere in the west, not to mention the Fae mares that were bred by the Lord of the Horse himself. We can’t count what has already been lost because of the Inquisitors coming to Sylvalan. We can’t know what else will be lost before we’re able to drive them out. But we can do our best to protect the people and things we’ll need to rebuild our land and our lives. So you’ll do what I need you to do. I can’t look back, Neall. When I ride out of here, I need to go with an easy heart. And that is a burden I place on your shoulders.”

Neall looked away. When he looked at her again, his eyes were years older. “I’ll do what you need.”

“Thank you.”

Neall sighed. “This is just talk anyway. Nothing is going to happen to Padrick, and nothing is going to happen to you. You’ll still be the Hunter when you’re a wrinkled great-grandmother.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Ashk replied quietly. “Power waxes and wanes, Neall, and it doesn’t always follow the years. There are some who have ascended to command their particular gift and remained strong for decades, and there are others who have burned brightly for a few years before their power faded and another’s power blazed. I was twenty when I became the Hunter. In a few more years, you’ll be a seasoned man in your prime, and I’ll be quite content to be nothing more than a Lady of the Woods playing with my grandchildren.”

“You’ve got some years to go then,” Neall said. “Evan’s only eleven years old.”