Spellweaver - By Lynn Kurland Page 0,158
set his jaw, because it was either that or sit down and weep.
“It is,” he said distinctly, “impossible. I saw him fall at the well.”
“Did you?”
“Very well,” Ruith snarled, “I didn’t see precisely that, but I saw the wave crash down on him. No one could have survived it. My mother didn’t, nor did three of my brothers—and they were protected by her spells. My father had nothing standing between him and that evil but bluster.”
Miach held up his hands helplessly. “I have no proof,” he said. “Just a feeling.”
“A feeling that was apparently strong enough that you felt the need to fly hundreds of leagues to come tell me about it.”
Miach shrugged. “I can’t help you with this task, Ruith, but I couldn’t not at least tell you what I thought.”
“Meddler.”
“Guilty,” Miach agreed.
Ruith considered a bit longer. “I am very tempted to send Sarah with you back to your hovel.”
“She won’t come, I don’t imagine.”
“I may not give her any choice.”
Miach reached out and put his hand on Ruith’s shoulder briefly. “If I could offer one piece of advice, brother, it would be never to be less than forthcoming with your lady, and do not leave her behind. It won’t go well for you.”
“Or for the Sword of Angesand, apparently.”
Miach smiled. “Soilléir told you, did he?”
“After I fair beat it from him,” Ruith said, dragging his hand through his hair. He looked at Miach. “Don’t say aught to Mhorghain. Not until I’m certain we’ll survive this.”
Miach shook his head. “Ruith, my friend, there is nothing in this world or the next that would make me give her those tidings. She did enough at the well.”
Ruith considered. “When do you wed?”
“In a fortnight’s time.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be finished with this by then.”
“You can be my wedding present to her, then,” Miach said with a faint smile. “After the fact.”
Ruith nodded, though that cost him a surprising bit to manage. He didn’t want to believe that he might not survive the task before him, but—
He turned away from the thought. He would survive, he would keep Sarah safe, then he would set out on a lifetime of bliss in that beautiful spot on Lake Cladach that Sgath was reserving for him—or Sarah, rather. With any luck, she would allow him to come along and build her a house on it.
He nodded to Miach, who he was certain would understand just what he was thinking, then walked with his sister’s fiancé back to where his grandfather sat, chatting amicably with Sarah. He set aside the heaviness in his heart.
He was sure it would return soon enough.
It was very late, or very early depending on one’s perspective, when he finally stretched out in front of the fire with Sarah lying with her head toward his, much as they’d done in Sgath’s folly when he’d first thought he loved her truly. She propped her chin up on her folded hands and looked at him.
“Well?”
“I’ve stopped weeping,” he said quietly. “Promising, don’t you think?”
She smiled at him. “You have cause.”
“I’m only happy Rùnach wasn’t here to witness it. He would have never let me live it down.”
“I think you might be right.”
He leaned up on his elbows, then looked at her purposefully. She shook her head.
“Absolutely not.”
“My grandfather is snoring, and Miach won’t care.”
She pursed her lips. “Your tally is not full, my prince. I told your grandfather about it, and he agreed that it would be useful in at least keeping your mind on your task.”
He inched his way toward her. “I’m surprised he didn’t suggest a dozen princes for you to examine.”
“He did.”
Ruith shut his mouth with a snap. “And what did you say?”
“I told him I didn’t care for royalty.” She smiled faintly. “I think he’s still digesting that.”
“He’s digesting, and I’m postponing,” he said with a snort.
“Postponing what?”
“The rest of that bloody list you’re holding me to.”
“You kissed the barmaid,” she reminded him. “And you said she was a princess.”
“I lied. But I wanted to kiss Miach. Briefly. As far as I’m concerned, that counts. If you insist, I’ll take up my errand again tomorrow.”
She frowned. “Tomorrow?”
He leaned over and kissed her softly. “Tomorrow,” he said firmly.
“You autocratic . . . elf,” she spluttered.
“Only three-quarters.”
She laughed a little, then reached out and put her arm around his neck, holding onto him tightly. “I’ll take the quarter, then, for a bit. You be Ruith and I’ll be Sarah, and we’ll forget the rest.”
“If it means I can jettison into the ether that bloody tally of women I’ve no interest in, I’m all for it.”
She looked at him seriously. “I don’t want you to regret your choice.”
He kissed her again, rather thoroughly, because he just didn’t have any words left. Then he rested his cheek against hers in silence for another moment or two before he thought he could speak with any success.
“I want you to go with Sìle.”
“I know.”
He sighed. “Miach has suspicions about things, things that will make for a very unpleasant journey’s end, if they’re true. I don’t want you anywhere near where I’ll need to go.”
“I can see the spells, Ruith. You can’t.”
“Nothing, and I mean nothing, my lady, has ever caused me more regret than that fact.” He looked at her bleakly. “I am very much afraid, Sarah of Cothromaiche, that whilst I may survive many things, I may not survive that because it means I will have taken you places no man would ever think to take the woman he loves.”
She kissed him softly, then stretched back out with her chin on her hands, wincing when she touched the back of her right hand. She put it aside, then simply rested her cheek on her left hand and looked at him.
“We’ll do what we must, Ruith, because we must. Then we’ll spend the rest of our lives looking at other things. More beautiful things.”
He covered her right hand very gently with his own, then lay down with his head turned just so, so he could look at her. He sincerely hoped she was right. Unfortunately, he feared that the trials they would pass through first would be more than either of them would forget easily.
He waited until she’d closed her eyes before he set spells of ward about the entire chamber that no one could break through. Once that was done, he simply watched her and the future both.
They would sleep whilst they could, then, on the morrow, take up the heritages they couldn’t escape and the tasks that still lay before them. And then he would do his damndest to keep her safe and accomplish what he had to, because if Gair was alive, the only way for him to make the world safe for Sarah for more than a single night was to make a choice.
His father, or the world.
And if those were the alternatives facing him, the choice was simple.
He could only hope he lived long enough to make it.
Look for the next book in the series, coming in winter 2012.
Titles by Lynn Kurland
STARDUST OF YESTERDAY
A DANCE THROUGH TIME
THIS IS ALL I ASK
THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU
ANOTHER CHANCE TO DREAM
THE MORE I SEE YOU
IF I HAD YOU
MY HEART STOOD STILL
FROM THIS MOMENT ON
A GARDEN IN THE RAIN
DREAMS OF STARDUST
MUCH ADO IN THE MOONLIGHT
WHEN I FALL IN LOVE
WITH EVERY BREATH
TILL THERE WAS YOU
The Novels of the Nine Kingdoms
STAR OF THE MORNING
THE MAGE’S DAUGHTER
PRINCESS OF THE SWORD
A TAPESTRY OF SPELLS
SPELLW EAVER
Anthologies
THE CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Julie Beard, Barbara Bretton, and Jo Beverley)
CHRISTMAS SPIRITS
(with Casey Claybourne, Elizabeth Bevarly, and Jenny Lykins)
VEILS OF TIME
(with Maggie Shayne, Angie Ray, and Ingrid Weaver)
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
(with Elizabeth Bevarly, Emily Carmichael, and Elda Minger)
LOVE CAME JUST IN TIME A KNIGHT’S VOW
(with Patricia Potter, Deborah Simmons, and Glynnis Campbell)
TAPESTRY
(with Madeline Hunter, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and Karen Marie Moning)
TO WEAVE A WEB OF MAGIC
(with Patricia A. McKillip, Sharon Shinn, and Claire Delacroix)
THE QUEEN IN WINTER
(with Sharon Shinn, Claire Delacroix, and Sarah Monette)
A TIME FOR LOVE