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mistress . . .
    She had given the bitch the praise and petting it had wanted, and she’d given no orders that would end the puppies’ existence, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to touch the bitch since that day.
    Dianna turned away, ignoring the bitch’s unhappy whine.

    There had been times when a Fae woman would find a human male enticing enough to enjoy him. And there had been times when that enjoyment had resulted in a child. But no Fae woman kept such a creature in Tir Alainn. That kind of child was left on the sire’s doorstep for him to do with as he chose.
    Now that the pups were weaned, perhaps she should do the same with them. Just leave them in the human world the next time she passed through the Veil.
    No, that was unacceptable. The shadow hounds belonged to the Fae. If humans were to acquire even mongrel pups, the shadow hounds would no longer belong exclusively to the Fae. They would become . .
    . diminished, ordinary. And that was unthinkable. Which meant she would have to find something else to do with the worthless puppies.
    “Shadows surround the moon, sister,” a baritone voice said. “Is it your mind or your heart that travels a dark path?”
    The voice made her focus on the man standing in front of her.
    “I could ask the same of you, Lucian,” Dianna replied.
    Saying nothing more, he offered his arm. As they strolled the gardens together, Dianna studied him out of the corner of her eye.
    He was her twin, her opposite, and her equal. Their mother once said that they must have gotten mixed in the womb because they reflected the opposite of what they were. In a way, that was true. She, who was the Lady of the Moon, was the golden one—fair hair and amber eyes, and skin that warmed to the sun’s kiss— while he had black hair, gray eyes, and fair skin the sun couldn’t touch. But he was the Lord of the Sun, the Lord of Fire. The Lightbringer.
    “Are you going to cross the Veil tonight?” Dianna asked.
    “I haven’t decided,” Lucian replied curtly.
    Lyrra was right , Dianna thought. This mood of his bodes ill for everyone . “I think you should. You didn’t seem to enjoy your last visit to one of the other Clans. It was mentioned that you weren’t a receptive guest.” Which is why she had felt defensive when Lyrra had pointed out that Lucian was avoiding company. It was unusual for a Fae male to refuse an invitation to a woman’s bed when he was guesting at a Clan house. It was, in fact, considered ill mannered for him to repeatedly refuse unless he was already having an affair and had promised a modicum of fidelity. So the veiled complaints that had been entwined in the flowery phrases of the messages she’d received had disturbed her and made her quick to take his side of the argument—even before an argument had actually surfaced. He was her brother. It was second nature to take his side in any disagreement—unless, of course, he was disagreeing with her.
    She almost jerked away from him when she felt his temper begin to rise. It took effort to keep her arm lightly linked with his when he turned his head to look at her and she could see his eyes clearly.
    “I don’t keep track of what you do in your bed, sister,” he said with deadly control. “What makes you think you have any right to keep track of what I do in mine?”
    Dianna swallowed carefully. “It is less in my nature than it is in yours to seek that kind of company.” She knew it had been the wrong thing to say a moment before he pulled away from her. “Lucian—”
    “What favors haven’t I granted that they should complain to my sister ?” he snarled. “What is it that they feel they can’t get from me by making an honest request instead of tying it to the bed?”

    “It isn’t like that,” Dianna protested.
    “Isn’t it?” Lucian paced away from her, turned, came back. “Who is it that refused their invitation, Dianna? Lucian ... or the Lightbringer?”
    “You are the Lightbringer, so