Dreamer's Daughter by Lynn Kurland

might not have otherwise had. Uachdaran of Léige is fairly choosey about his guests, but he will at least allow the rabble into his great hall. King Seannair is substantially less hospitable. I’m not sure if he fears a guest might elbow him aside at the supper table or nick one of his spells.”
    â€œThe spells of essence changing?”
    â€œAye, though why he worries, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It isn’t as if an enemy could possibly pin any of his progeny down and wrest the spells from them before being turned into something unpleasant.”
    She didn’t like to think about those spells. “Do they all know them, do you suppose?”
    â€œNot to my knowledge. And thankfully so,” he added, “else I would have likely found myself turned into a toad this morning by Annastashia. Seannair knows them all, I would guess, as does his son, and Soilléir. What any of the others know, I wouldn’t presume to guess. They have magic of their own, to be sure, but its nature is capricious. I’m not even sure how to describe it.” He looked at her suddenly. “How does Cothromaiche strike you?”
    â€œOrdinary,” she said without hesitation, “though I don’t mean any disrespect by that.” She paused, then shrugged. “It’s just a very quiet place.”
    â€œNo being kept awake at night by dwarvish stone telling you a millennia’s worth of tales?” he asked with a smile.
    She shook her head. “Thankfully, nay. Things seem to be polite, but not effusive.”
    â€œSoilléir would be impressed with the description, I’m sure.”
    She waited, but he seemed content to simply sit there and look at the floor below his hands. Perhaps he was contemplating dwarvish tales. Or perhaps he was still looking for a good way to tell her he wasn’t going to continue with her on her quest.
    She supposed the kindest thing she could do was put him out of his misery. She pushed her stool away from her wheel and rose.
    â€œWell, that’s that,” she said with a cheerfulness she most certainly didn’t feel. “I think I’ll beg another meal or two from Prince Soilléir, then be on my way in the morning. Best wishes, of course, for your nuptials.”
    He looked up at her, seemed to consider for a moment or two, then rose. He clasped his hands behind his back.
    â€œAisling,” he said seriously, “I have no intention of wedding Annastashia of Cothromaiche. I suppose it should have occurred to me that she would be here and our paths would cross, but I hadn’t intended that that path run right over you.”
    â€œYou couldn’t have known.”
    â€œI could have used my wits and considered the possibility,” he said, “something for which I apologize. But now that we have that settled properly, let’s turn to other things such as discussing what my heart truly desires.”
    â€œSupper?” she asked.
    He smiled, then held out his hand toward her. “You know that isn’t what I’m talking about. Unless Astar has caught your eye and you’re hesitant to break my heart over the fact.”
    â€œBreak your heart?” she said quietly.
    â€œShatter it,” he said. “Please don’t.”
    She took a deep breath, then sighed. Because in spite of the events of the morning, she knew the man standing in front of her loved her and she felt the same way about him. But there was no point in giving in too quickly. “Prince Astar is handsome,” she said thoughtfully. “If one is looking for that sort of thing in a man.”
    â€œBut like Mansourah of Neroche, sadly lacking in familiarity with soap and brush. I’d steer clear of him were I you.”
    She put her hand in his. “As usual, you aren’t serious.”
    â€œOh, I am,” he said. He drew her over to a bench set fully under the window and pulled her down to sit with