Ashk looked up.

Morag was already gone.

One thing at a time. "Get the basin and fill it with water," she told Sheridan.

When the basin was on the bed and filled, she reached for the sodden cloth over Aiden's hands.

Shuddering, Aiden closed his eyes. Lyrra turned her head.

Carefully, Ashk lifted the cloth-and sighed with relief. Lightly gripping his wrists, she raised his hands high enough for Sheridan to push the basin under them. Then she gently lowered Aiden's hands into the water.

Not what she'd feared. Nothing like she'd feared. A few blisters were rising, and his hands were a bright red. She'd seen skin that red when young farmers foolishly stripped to the waist and worked in the fields all day early in planting season. She doubted Aiden would be comfortable for a few days, but he would be all right.

"Stay with him." She ran out of the room and down the corridor, passing

Morphia and the Clan healer the Sleep Sister must have fetched.

Down the stairs and through the communal rooms. Out of the Clan house, running through the gardens until she reached the stable.

"Have you seen the Lightbringer?" she panted. Her anger grew fangs when

no one answered until one of her own men stepped forward.

"He came out of the Clan house a little while ago," the huntsman said. "He changed to his other form and galloped toward the bridge that connects to the Clan just west of here." He shrugged. "We thought he'd decided to guest elsewhere tonight."

"What about the Gatherer?"

Now he looked uncomfortable. "She saddled her horse in a hurry and headed out in the same direction.

Ashk stared at him, a cold lump growing in her belly.

He shifted his feet, uneasy now. "She didn't have her saddlebags. Said there

wasn't time to fetch them when we offered to get them for her, so we made sure she had a canteen for water and a small bag of grain for the horse. She wouldn't wait for anything else."

Ashk nodded. "You did what you could."

She walked back to the Clan house, fighting the urge to ride out after Morag.

Lucian had the advantage-at least until he reached the western Clans. After that...

She couldn't catch up to them. Foolish to even try. Besides, the waxing

moon was growing larger every night-and her task was still ahead of her, in

the east.

As she reached the terrace, she stopped and looked toward the west. "Find him, Morag," she said softly. "Find him ... and do what needs to be done."

Chapter 26.

waxing moon Mihail gritted his teeth against the pain from the burns on his shoulder and back. His first mate was a good sailor, but right now they needed him at the wheel, needed his connection to the sea to draw every breath of speed he could coax from Sweet Selkie. When he was at the wheel, he felt like a bridge between wind and water, knew exactly how to turn his ship to keep the sails full and fast.

The Black Coats' ships were still gaining on them. Bigger ships. More sails. They would catch up to them. Sooner or later. He couldn't think about that. He had to keep his mind on his ship, on the sea, on the wind.

His first mate stepped close to him, and said quietly, "We don't have enough fresh water to see us through the journey. Not enough food, either. The smaller boats that fled with us couldn't have taken on enough supplies for the people they're carrying."

"I know," Mihail replied. "But if we stop anywhere, the Black Coats will have us."

"And if we don't, the lack of water will finish us off for them." "I know." Mihail swallowed, wishing violently that his first mate hadn't mentioned water. "We can't lead the Black Coats to Sealand. We can't lead them to safe harbor." Can't lead them to Jenny and the boys. "That big island we pass on our way north, the one across from the western bay. What

have you heard about it?"

The first mate rubbed his chin and gave Mihail an uneasy look. "Awhile back, when it was still safe enough to visit a tavern in Seahaven, I had a drink with a man who usually sails out of Wellingsford. He said the folks north of there call it Selkie Island. Said it's not a place to go unless you've no choice. Strange folk there."

"Fae?"

"Maybe. He wasn't sure-or wouldn't say. Just said the captains he'd shipped with preferred to stay closer to the mainland shore, but if a captain spotted a lot of seals that seemed a bit too interested in his ship, he'd lower some sails and call out to any fishing boat nearby, asking if they could

deliver a small gift to the Lord of the island. Said the captains always kept a little cargo in easy reach for just that reason."

"Did the fishing boats take the gifts?"

"Aye, they did-and most headed straight back for that island. Safe waters.

That's what the man said. Sea pirates are afraid to sail within sight of that

island. Those that do usually don't sail away again."

Safe waters. They needed safe waters. Could they find food and fresh water on the island? Could they find any help against the Black Coats?

He looked up at the sky sliding toward twilight. There were still birds riding the air currents. Were they real birds, or were the Fae already watching them? If there were Fae on Selkie Island, did they know the Fae on Ronat Isle?

Safe waters. They needed safe waters.

"We'll adjust our course," Mihail said. "We'll head for that island. If the Fae do live there, maybe they'll help us." Maybe.

Right now, it gave him a grain of hope-and a grain was more than he'd had an hour ago.

Chapter 27.

waxing moon Despair. Fear. Anger. Determination. As Liam stood in front of his family's home and watched Varden gallop away, those emotions churned inside him, a messy stew of feelings. He turned and hurried back to where Donovan waited near the stables with the horses and guards. If Varden had shown up a few minutes later, they would have already left to check the tenant farms. Of course, one of the huntsmen would have found them, but the delay would have cost them all. Maybe it wouldn't make any difference in the end, considering what Varden had just told him.

As he closed the distance to where Donovan waited, anger rose to the surface, coating the fear. "Mother's tits, Donovan," Liam said, his voice sharp. "Why are you still here?"

Donovan gave him a mild look. "I was waiting for you. Didn't seem right to visit your tenants without you." "That's right," Liam panted. Muscle and bone clamped around his lungs and wouldn't let him draw a full breath. "They're my tenants. This is my land. You should have gone home days ago. Why didn't you go home?" Despair churned up through the anger.

"Gwenn insists there's something she needs to do here and won't leave. And I won't go without Gwenn." Donovan stiffened. "What's wrong, Liam? What did Varden tell you?"

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. "Armed men, marching this way. Three hundred men. Maybe more. Not a whole army ..." But enough. More than enough. "Varden has sent one of his men back to Tir Alainn to warn the Fae ... and to get any other Fae at the Clan house who have any skill with weapons. He sent another man to Squire Thurston's. Thurston's closer to the village. He'll have time to get the villagers assembled in case..."

"In case?" Donovan narrowed his eyes. "Where are those men heading, Liam?" "Here. They're heading right for us." Liam closed his eyes. Despair would gain nothing. Anger was the better weapon, but the despair kept drowning anger's fire before it had a chance to kindle. At least his mother and Brooke were at the Old Place. He didn't have to worry about them being trapped here. And maybe there was a way to keep them safe. "Twenty Fae, your guards, and the two Willowsbrook guards assigned to protect me. Less than

thirty men against three hundred."

"There are the men at the Old Place," Donovan countered. "The villagers.

The farmers."

"And leave those places vulnerable? It's me they want." If they take me, if they kill me, maybe it will be enough. Maybe they'll leave my people, my family, alone.

"That's right. Eliminate the baron, eliminate the leader, and the county splinters into each village trying to defend itself instead of joining together into a large-enough force to repel an attack. They won't stop with you, Liam.

Oh, I've come to know you well enough during the time I've been here to know you're considering it. A sacrifice offered to appease. But it won't appease. They'll keep on killing until they're stopped-or until there's nothing and no one left here to destroy."

"If you go now, you and Gwenn could stay ahead of them, could reach the Mother's Hills before ..." Liam swallowed hard. Too easy to picture Old Willowsbrook looking like the places he'd thought were fever dreams when Padrick had helped him get home. Too easy to see faces, familiar and loved, on bodies that had been- No. He couldn't think about it.

"I don't want to die here," Donovan said quietly. "But we're not fighting just to save Willowsbrook. We're fighting to save Sylvalan. In the end, it doesn't matter where I pick up the sword ... as long as I pick up the sword."

Hoofbeats. Heading toward them.

The guards whirled, short swords in their hands.

Breanna and Gwenn reined in-and Liam felt the heat of power under his

skin, burning away despair and clearing his mind. He had a weapon at his fingertips that the enemy didn't know about. A weapon that would help even the odds.

Calm settled over him, although his heart still beat too fast as he walked over