“God be with you both.” Thomas put his hands on them once again. In that instant, Jacob felt the sweet weight of memory binding them, a link that would never be broken. Then the monk slowly faded and the child with him, a slip of her laughter left behind, making the leaves swirl around their feet.

All about them, the mist was lifting, showing the scenes like theirs drawing to a close. For a few precious seconds, they'd all been caught in a joyous and sorrowful paradise. He saw the same types of tears, smiles and pensive looks he and Lyssa had shared. For some Fae, their tears sparkled on their cheeks like the dust that came from their wings.

When he looked at his lady, Jacob saw her looking toward the cemetery's edge. Sitting apart from everyone else, Rhoswen squatted on her heels on the top of a large tombstone, her fingers resting on the stone's edge as if she were a white angel sculpted there. Energy stil pulsed around her, her concentration obvious as she held open the Veil.

However, as the last spirits faded, her eyes cleared, shoulders easing. Jacob started forward, but Cayden and Tabor already anticipated, catching her as the strength left her body and she slid off the tombstone into their ready grasp. There was a murmur of conversation between them, and then Cayden ceded her to Tabor with obvious reluctance.

The Fae king lifted and carried her to a covered carrying chair. Tabor had given his horse's reins to Dahlia. It appeared the four chair supports were to be carried by himself, Aidan, Leigh and Keldwyn.

Lyssa moved in that direction. Jacob fol owed, feeling how fragile she was right now, how fragile they both were. While the cemetery was no longer utterly silent, conversations were quiet, a somberness that fit the moment, punctuated by the music of bel s as the horses shook their manes, or the Fae expressed their feelings through their love of music, with lute, pipe and muted drum beats. Many Unseelie stil wore the monstrous guises they'd donned, but now, as they perched in trees or on tombstones in their trappings, they had a sad, macabre look. They sat in contemplation or comforted companions overwhelmed by the experience.

He noticed the group of young Fae formed a center cluster, holding on to one another in silence, rocking as Robin Goodfel ow, balanced on a nearby marker, played a song to make them smile through their tears.

When Lyssa stopped beside the carrying chair, Jacob reached tentative fingers into her mind to find she was dwel ing on how Rhoswen had given them this. Yet the Fae queen had stood apart, taking no comfort from any past loved one herself. As if there was no loved one in her past she would be will ing to see . . . or who would step forward to see her.

The curtains around the chair had not been lowered, Tabor and his honor guard standing at a respectful distance. Cayden stood next to them, holding his horse and Rhoswen's. Lyssa nodded to them all, then knelt at the side of the Fae queen.

While she didn't take the woman's hand, she did touch the pil ow near her head, so Rhoswen turned toward her.

“Thank you,” Lyssa said quietly. “You gave me a gift without measure. all of us.”

Rhoswen closed her eyes, her face weary. “Fae don't like to be thanked. We consider it insulting, empty platitudes. You thank with gifts, trinkets.”

“Since the only thing I have of value is something I'm not likely to offer twice, you'l have to make do with a simple, sincere thank-you.” Lyssa's tone was mild, however, a gentle note in it.

“Selfish bitch.” The queen's lips twisted, but there was no heat to the words. Jacob sensed she actual y appreciated the goading more than the hovering, concerned presence of the males.

“So I've been told.” When Lyssa touched the pil ow again, her fingers settled on a lock of Rhoswen's hair, a stroke. “Rhoswen, we are the only close blood family we each have left. Aren't we?”

“We are related by blood. That does not make us family or close.” Rhoswen opened her eyes again, stared at her. “While I don't know all the spirits that press through the Veil on Samhain night, some of them I anticipate ahead of time, because their desire to come through, their anticipation of the night, is so strong. That is why the young Fae who have lost parents in the last year attend with us. They are given an opportunity to see them once more before the children must move on, go on living. This is our gift of comfort, to them and their parents.”

She put her hand up between them then, pressing against Lyssa's forearm to push her touch away. “He was there, on the other side of the Veil. I could have all owed him to step past it, Lyssa. He has never waited there before, not for the many years I have done this. But he knew you were coming. I could have let him through, but I didn't. Because if he stepped out of that Veil with her at his side, your mother . . . If he stepped out and the first person he looked for was you, which is of course what he would do . . .”

Her gaze became hard and empty. “Then, queen or not, whatever I am supposed to be, it would not matter. I would have to kil you, because I could not bear that pain. I'm sorry.”

15

AT her imperious motion, Cayden stepped forward and drew the curtains around the chair. Lyssa knelt there an extra moment, making him work around her, until Tabor came to her side, slipped a hand under her elbow and helped her up, Jacob on the other side. The procession was mounting up again. Jacob took her to Firewind, helped her onto his back. When he put his arms around her to take up the reins, he noticed she was cold.

As they moved away from the cemetery and reentered the mist that would take them back to the Fae world, the mood shifted with that fog.

Conversation turned into ripples of laughter, then a more festive song tril ed from a pipe. As they emerged into the Fae world, that current rose even higher, responding to the lights and music spread out below them, each castle trying to outdo the display of its neighbor. Fireworks were happening, triggered by their return, those aerial displays of Fae, dragons and other flying beasts interspersed with explosions of lights in the sky.

The joy of seeing loved ones was transitioning into the meaning of the holiday itself. A day of endings, a day of beginnings, of hope for the future and laying the past to rest.

His lady remained silent. Jacob kept her cradled in his arms, giving her his strength and warmth. She laid her head on his shoulder, alarming him not so much with her quiet, but her lack of care of what others thought, seeing her weariness. Looking ahead at the queen in the lead, curtains stil drawn, he wondered what Rhoswen was doing behind that thick fabric. Noting Cayden's serious expression, also unaffected by the rising joviality of the group, he wondered if the two of them were having similar concerns about their respective ladies.

Lyssa slid her arms around his bare waist, her fingers hooked in the waist band of the snug hose, thumb tracing the upper rise of his buttock. He tightened his arm around her. My lady? You are well?

Just weary, Jacob. Just so weary of it all. Of what comes tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.

“Sleep, my lady. I have you. I'l take you to our room when we get back to the castle, and you can rest.”

She subsided. Firewind was once again riding some paces away from the rest of the host, the waterhorse not particularly the social type. Jacob wasn't surprised when Keldwyn relinquished his spot carrying the chair to Cayden and fel back on his own mount to keep pace with the waterhorse. Facing away from him in her sidesaddle position, Lyssa didn't stir at his presence. When Keldwyn glanced at her, Jacob had the odd feeling the Fae Lord wanted to reach out and touch Lyssa's head to offer comfort.

“The first time one experiences it, it is overwhelming,” he observed.

It was one of the few times Keldwyn had initiated conversation with him. Then again, maybe not.

Perhaps he was well aware that Lyssa was awake.

“It is hard to know how to feel. On one hand, it is a deep celebration, to know that life goes on, to see those who have passed before. On the other, it is a reexperience of their loss, of the things said and unsaid. It is not unexpected to feel somewhat low in the aftermath, adjusting to it.”

Jacob made a noncommittal noise. Keldwyn pressed his lips together, jaw tightening. “Is she all right?”

Jacob raised a brow. Lyssa was in her own thoughts, of course aware of Keldwyn's question, but unconcerned with whatever response he provided, trusting Jacob to offer an appropriate one. Though she'd correctly guessed he bore no love for Keldwyn, the concern in the Fae Lord's eyes was sincere.

“She misses our son,” he said. “Lady Lyssa is not young, but she is a young mother, a mother who was stil nursing her child. Tonight's events . . . they make one want to be with those you love most. And they make her weary of the bul shit.”

If he was surprised by the frank speech, he of course didn't show it. Keldwyn nodded, his gaze coursing over the position of Lyssa's body, curved so closely into Jacob's. “I can see that. Perhaps there is something we can do, to bring the child here, if—”

Lyssa straightened with the swift grace of a bobcat, twisting around and leveling her jade stare at the Fae Lord. “No one from this world will go near our son. You think I would all ow my child, a baby, to be brought here and mocked, treated the way I have been treated, the way Jacob has been treated?” Keldwyn gave her a straightforward look. “If you fail the third quest, Queen Rhoswen will not all ow you to leave this world. Your son will have to be brought to you.”

The energy that sparked off her was enough to send an unsettling ripple not only through Firewind and Keldwyn's mount, but the other horses close enough to be affected by it. Though their riders couldn't hear the conversation, they sent wary looks toward Lyssa. “He has been left with those who will see to his care and raising, if it is needed,” she said.

“So that is not your concern. I do not know or understand all the intricacies of your mind, Lord Keldwyn, what your intent is with respect to me. I accept that, for I've spent my life in a maze of politics and schemes. But you heed me. You bring my son into it, in any way, and you will discover that I can be so ruthless and cruel, your Queen Rhoswen will look like a pixie fairy in comparison. I will not hesitate to wreak devastation on anything or anyone standing between me and my son's well -being.”