She shifted in her seat but didn’t answer. Hartley drove the cart through the park and up to the doors of Hartsmere. He helped Eden and Donal down, but she gave him only the barest nod of acknowledgment and took Donal quickly into the house.
Copper received better thanks: a good brushing and a measure of oats. The iron of harness and bridle and carriage bit Hartley’s flesh, but he ignored the pain and temporary injury. The day’s accomplishments had been considerable, despite the somber note on which it had ended.
When he was finished with the horses, Hartley took on his true form and sought the forest. He slipped in among the vast trees, touching the trunks as he passed and greeting each by its secret name. Healing flowed into his wounded hands. These were his real friends, as mortals could never be. They renewed his spirit and reminded him that the earth held more than the petty handiwork of men.
Tod ran across his path as Hartley reached the domain of Grandfather Oak. The hob changed from fox to boy in the blink of an eye and bowed before him.
“You are pleased, my lord?” he said.
Hartley sat down on the empty shell of a fallen wych elm. “With what? That you made yourself known to my son?”
Tod laughed. “Tod did not tell who he is. But the boy knows. As he knows you.”
“He does not know that I am his father.”
“But he will.” Tod scurried up into the branches of an ash and hung upside down from his knees. “When will you tell him, my lord?”
“When I am ready.” He scowled at the hob. “What news have you brought me?”
“Good news, my lord. Good for you.” He sprang to the ground. “The boy has not been with the woman above two days.”
“What?”
Tod puffed up with importance. “She came to Hartsmere after. He was sent from Eire by the mortals who raised him. Before that, the woman lived in London and never saw the mortal child.”
Hartley leaped up from his seat. “Donal was not with her?”
“Nay, my lord. Not since his birthing.”
But that made no sense. Agitated, Hartley paced the length of the clearing. Branches rustled above him, echoing the chaos of his thoughts.
He could well believe that Eden had some part in concealing his son’s birth from him and keeping the boy away from Hartsmere. But that she would give him to strangers, claim he was another woman’s child, and then behave toward him with such devotion and protectiveness…
Less than an hour ago he had found himself enjoying Eden’s company, softening toward her. Desiring her. His feelings twisted and turned about like a spider’s web torn by the wind. It seemed inconceivable that the woman he had seen in the village would cast her son away.
“Is it not good, my lord?” Tod asked, crouching at his feet. “Can you not take him now?”
If what Tod reported were true, Hartley need have no twinges of burdensome conscience at taking the boy away when the time was right. It was to his benefit if the bond between mother and son was weak and of short duration.
And yet, despite all that had come between them, he did not want to discover that Eden had made mockery of his amended judgment. In the past few hours, his image of her had changed completely. He could not despise the woman he’d seen in the village and with Donal. Like the sun breaking through the clouds, his heart had begun to cast off the bands of iron that had bound it.
Suddenly, he was desperate to prove that Tod was wrong.
“I have another task for you,” he said to the hob. “Fly to Eire and seek these foster parents. Learn the circumstances of his coming to them.”
And find something that will redeem her.
With a joyous yelp, Tod dashed three times around Grandfather Oak. “Tod shall fly!” he cried.
“But only if you come back as soon as your task is done,” Hartley warned. “Do not linger.”
His tone silenced Tod’s rejoicing instantly, and the hob looked up at him with wide brown eyes. “Shall Tod bring the mortals back from Eire?”