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Silence settles on us and, for whatever reason, it’s comfortable. Slowly the calm spreads to my thoughts until my attention is out and on the beauty around us. The grass has so many shades of green to browns and spots of yellow and batches of purple heather. A soft breeze blows, and the smell of the air is crisp, fresh, completely free of any hints of pollution.
“Why are you here, Moira?” I ask.
“I’m your friend,” she says.
“That’s not an answer and you know it. You have an agenda. All of you Fae do.”
“Aye,” she says, dropping my hand. She clasps her hands behind her back and continues walking. She leads us to a cliff and makes a wide sweeping gesture with her arm. “Does this make you happy?”
I don’t answer impulsively but take the moment to look. Glancing down, my stomach clenches at the height, but when I look out to the horizon it’s the beauty and gloriousness of it that takes my breath away.
“I can be,” I say.
“Can be, not am.”
“I thought, or I hoped, I could get back before the troubles. Before the MacGregor name was outlawed, but now… so many of them are going to die. If I’m so freaking powerful, why can’t I stop it?”
“I hate this,” she says, ignoring what I said. “Sure, it’s beautiful. Great. Who doesn’t appreciate eye candy? But live here? Like this? No thanks. I’ll take indoor plumbing. And espresso.”
Taking my attention off the beauty I watch Moira. She grimaces and shakes her head, then turns to me.
“You avoided my question.”
“I did,” she agrees. “What do you want me to say? Platitudes? Lies? Not my game, Quinn. I don’t lie. Never saw the point in it. Lies are complex and too much like building a castle on quicksand. One wrong word and it all crashes down. Truth is simple. Direct. I prefer it.”
“Then tell me the truth. Why can’t I stop this?”
She purses her lips, and her eyes are steady as they meet mine, but something passes behind them.
“Nothing is ever that easy, Quinn.”
It’s as honest an answer as I’ll probably ever hear. I accept it and let the question go, because if nothing else, the Druid taught me the wrong question gets you nowhere.
“If I choose your side, they say magic will die, forever.”
She shrugs and looks away.
“It might. Would that be so bad? Or do you prefer a world like this. Without the miracles of modern medicine and technology? Living in fear of those who think even your moderate skills in healing are ‘witchcraft’ and might get you outcast? Forced to live alone?”
“People need free choice,” I say. “Magic gives them that. Opportunities.”
“Really, Quinn? You think these people have choice? Did the MacGregors choose to have their name outlawed? You think Alesoun chose to be cast outside her clan? How do you think the future is going to look with Agnes and you?”
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Of course I have. We all are.” She makes a dismissive gesture. “You’re the Destroyer. Our fate lies in your hands. In your decisions. You think we aren’t paying attention?”
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you been watching?”
She shakes her head. “Not long this time. I don’t think anyone expected you to have enough power to travel back on your own. It took time to find you.”
“Dugald said the same.”
“You know it’s not only an argument for technology, right? It’s order versus chaos. Magic is unpredictable, especially in the hands of humans. Why risk it? Why let chaos reign when the world can be tamed, brought to heel by the power of the human mind unleashed.”
