Free By the Light of the Moon by Laila Blake Page A

stories tedious and if that made her part of the reason why nobody would let her inherit her father’s estate despite the fact that Rochmond hadn’t been at war with anyone for over one hundred years, then maybe she had to accept that. No matter how little sense it made to her. But now she did want to know about the Blaidyn and their place in the human world and how they came there. She knew she had been told some of it before, but the details escaped her.
    “Why don’t we start by you telling me what you
do
remember?” He started again and with a slight note of mischief that made his old face suddenly look like that of a boy’s, he added; “Considering how my voice seems to put you sleep when I start to talk about history … ”
    “Just war history … ” Moira tried to defend herself but then yielded his point with a rare smile and nodded. Pausing for a moment as she studied the map again to gather her thoughts, she finally made an all-encompassing gesture over the length and width of the table.
    “I remember that the Fae wars started much earlier and then were spread all across the realm,” she began. Moira knew she was not stupid, she just lacked in two general aspects; she was stubborn about things she did not have an interest in studying, and she showed little desire to prove her lessons or her intelligence, which made it difficult to assess what she actually knew.
    “They laid claim to the same land we did … ” she said with an obvious sigh. Brock knew this was one of the reasons she didn’t like war stories. “And for some reason we couldn’t all live together and find a compromise … and so there was war in a lot of places. And I remember they were the ones who … made the Blaidyn but I’m not sure what that means.”
    Brock raised his brows, studying her intently. “By magic,” he answered, shrugged and raised a brow. He knew that especially the younger ones who had never seen magic at work had started to understand it as metaphor but he knew better. “They took the strength and character of the wolf and imbued him with strategic intelligence and an agile body that could hold a sword as well as it could bare its teeth and tear a man to pieces. They created a fighting machine.”
    Moira eyed him with suspicion.
    “Fae are … were, Fae were immortal. They needed mortal fighters to send into the fray. Being killed in battle was quite ignominious to the likes of them, you understand.”
    Moira nodded. “But they changed sides.”
    “Yes, they did. It was hundreds of years later and they had changed. They had their own settlements and their own … ideas. They thought that they had better chances with the humans and threw their lot in with them, with us. It changed the war and the Fae were pushed back further and further.”
    “Until the fighting was contained here in Rochmond.”
    “Yes, the very same. I did expect you to remember that much.”
    “And then we won?”
    “Yes. In so many words. The Fae were pushed against the shores of the Lake Coru, they were cut off from any escape route into the mountains and they were utterly outnumbered.”
    “What happened to them?” Moira asked, frowning. She had heard terrible stories about Fae deeds but the idea that an entire population was wiped from the face of the earth didn’t quite feel right, even if they were monsters.
    “They died, Moira. At least most of them. We never heard from them again so it is quite likely that they all perished. Every last one of them.”
    Moira nodded, again staring at the painted lake; dark blue on the worn leather, buttery in its fine sheen. Its eastern shore seemed to have just the right shape to close in on an enemy army, she assumed. The real lake looked so innocent now, sad and deep and usually covered in a grey sheen of mist.
    “Where did they come from?” Moira asked then, lifting her eyes to the old man.
    “Nobody knows,” Brock said quietly. He turned away and looked over toward the small window.