by Lynn Kurland
“I DARE YOU TO READ A KURLAND STORY AND NOT ENJOY IT!”
—Heartland Critiques
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF
USA Today bestselling author
Lynn Kurland
Star of the Morning
“Kurland launches a stunning, rich, and poetic new trilogy. The quest is on!”
—Romantic Times
“Terrific…Lynn Kurland provides fantasy readers with a delightful quest tale starring likable heroes…a magical beginning to what looks like will be a superb romantic fantasy trilogy.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Entertaining fantasy.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Dreams of Stardust
“Kurland weaves another fabulous read with just the right amounts of laughter, romance, and fantasy.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Kurland crafts some of the most ingenious time-travel romances readers can find. Cleverly merging past and present, she spins a dreamlike web that so completely captivates readers…Wonderfully clever and completely enchanting.”
—Romantic Times
“A masterful storyteller…[a] spellbinding plot, fascinating characters, and sizzling sensuality…[a] mesmerizing novel.”
—Romance Junkies
“One of our most beloved time-travel authors and deservedly so. Each new book is cause for celebration!”
—Fresh Fiction
“A terrific time-travel romance.”
—Paranormal Romance Reviews
“KURLAND OUT-WRITES ROMANCE FICTION’S TOP AUTHORS BY A MILE.”
—Publishers Weekly
A Garden in the Rain
“Kurland laces her exquisitely romantic, utterly bewitching blend of contemporary romance and time travel with a delectable touch of tart wit, leaving readers savoring every word of this superbly written romance.”
—Booklist
“Kurland…consistently delivers the kind of stories readers dream about. Don’t miss this one.”
—The Oakland Press
From This Moment On
“A disarming blend of romance, suspense, and heartwarming humor, this book is romantic comedy at its best.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A deftly plotted delight.”
—Booklist
My Heart Stood Still
“Written with poetic grace and a wickedly subtle sense of humor…the essence of pure romance. Sweet, poignant, and truly magical, this is a rare treat: a romance with characters readers will come to care about and a love story they will cherish.”
—Booklist
“A totally enchanting tale, sensual and breathtaking…An absolute must-read.”
—Rendezvous
If I Had You
“Kurland brings history to life…in this tender medieval romance.”
—Booklist
“A passionate story filled with danger, intrigue, and sparkling dialogue.”
—Rendezvous
The More I See You
“The superlative Ms. Kurland once again wows her readers with her formidable talent as she weaves a tale of enchantment that blends history with spellbinding passion and impressive characterization, not to mention a magnificent plot.”
—Rendezvous
Another Chance to Dream
“Kurland creates a special romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Very Thought of You
“[A] masterpiece…this fabulous tale will enchant anyone who reads it.”
—Painted Rock Reviews
This Is All I Ask
“An exceptional read.”
—The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“Both powerful and sensitive…a wonderfully rich and rewarding book.”
—Susan Wiggs
“A medieval of stunning intensity. Sprinkled with adventure, fantasy, and heart.”
—Christina Dodd
A Dance Through Time
“An irresistibly fast and funny romp across time.”
—Stella Cameron
“Vastly entertaining time travel…a humorous novel of feisty fun and adventure.”
—A Little Romance
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
The Nine Kingdoms series
STAR OF THE MORNING
THE MAGE’S DAUGHTER
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)
A KNIGHT’S VOW
(with Patricia Potter, Deborah Simmons, and Glynnis Campbell)
TAPESTRY
(with Madeline Hunter, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and Karen Marie Moning)
LOVE CAME JUST IN TIME
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)
Lynn Kurland
The MAGE’S DAUGHTER
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2008 by Lynn Curland
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
BERKLEY SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kurland, Lynn.
The mage’s daught
er / Lynn Kurland.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN: 978-1-1012-0672-0
I. Title.
PS3561.U645M34 2008
813'.54—dc22 2007035147
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Prologue
Winter’s chill hung in the air like thousands of polished silver shards, poised to fall soundlessly to the ground.
A young woman stood in the midst of that chill, heedless of its potential to harm her, and motionless, as if simply breathing in and out was all she could manage. She remained there for quite some time, fighting visibly to keep herself upright. In time, she took a careful step forward, only to rest again, still breathing raggedly, still adding to the frost.
Nicholas, lord of Lismòr, stood at the edge of the enclosed courtyard and shivered in the brutal cold. He spared a fond thought for the hot fire that burned in his solar not fifty paces behind him but knew there was no hope of enjoying it anytime soon. The fire would burn itself out before the young woman before him agreed to give up her current pursuit and come inside.
It had taken her the whole of the morning to get herself dressed and out of her bedchamber. The remainder of the day had been spent shuffling step by painful step out to the courtyard. She had refused a crutch of any sort, vowing that she would keep herself on her feet without aid or not at all. That she had managed it for any length of time said much about her strength of will. Nicholas suspected, however, that her will would not—no matter its strength—be able to see her across the distance left before her. Enough was enough. He strode out into the courtyard and stopped next to her.
“Morgan,” he said quietly, “you must come in.”
She didn’t answer him. Perhaps she didn’t have the strength for it.
“Please, my dear,” he added.
She bowed her head. For several moments, she simply stood there and trembled. Then she held out her hand.
It trembled as well.
Nicholas ignored it and lifted her easily in his arms.
“You’ll drop me, old man,” she gasped weakly.
“I might, if you weighed as much as a half-empty sack of flour,” Nicholas said grimly. “But as you do not, I’ll manage, despite my creaking knees.”
He carried her easily out of the courtyard and back along the cloister until he reached his solar. His page opened the door as he approached. He walked inside and crossed the chamber to set Morgan down in a chair near the hearth. He put more wood on the fire, then turned to look at his charge.
She clutched her cloak tightly to her throat and stared unseeing into the distance.
“Run and fetch wine, William,” Nicholas said quietly to his serving lad. “And whatever sort of soup Cook has on the fire.”
“Of course, my lord,” William said and ran off quickly.
Nicholas took off his cloak and cast himself down in the chair facing Morgan. He leaned back and watched as she stared at horrors he could not see. He supposed he had some idea of what they were, for he had seen the shadows of them. They had been dreams of darkness and evil.
He did not envy her those dreams.
He looked up as William brought a tray of food and set it on a small table in front of Morgan. Nicholas dismissed the lad to a comfortable stool in the corner, then reached for wine. He poured it into the rustic pewter cups he’d begun to use after Morgan had dropped one too many of his glass goblets and refused to drink from them further. He hadn’t cared about the glass, of course, but she had, so he’d humored her.
“Morgan,” he said, “have some wine.” He paused. “Morgan?”
She turned her head to look at him, but it was several moments before he could tell that she saw him.
“My lord?” she rasped.
“Drink, my dear,” he said, reaching over and pressing the cup into her hands. “It will do you good.”
She looked down at the cup as if she’d never seen one before and had no idea what to do with it. Finally, she seemed to come to terms with what it was. She bent her head and managed to bring the cup up far enough to drink from it. She set it down carefully on the tray, then leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep.
Nicholas sipped his own wine as he watched her. Her weariness was to be expected. Poisons fashioned by the black mage of Wychweald were generally fatal, and Morgan had ingested more than was polite. It had taken all his skill as a healer, and all his strength as something more than a healer, to counteract the poison’s effect. Even then, he hadn’t been completely certain that she would survive—no matter what he had hoped at first.
She had, though she’d remained abed for over a fortnight, too weak to move. She had spoken to him eventually, but not past conversing on the most rudimentary of subjects. She hadn’t asked him why she found herself at Lismòr, not hundreds of leagues away at the palace of Tor Neroche where she’d been attacked. She hadn’t asked him who had healed her. She hadn’t expressed any interest at all in what she was going to do in the future.
He put on a good face whilst she was awake, but now that she slept, he could admit to himself what he’d been unwilling to before: she was terribly hurt. She was infirm, brittle, almost transparent. He wondered if she would ever completely heal.
He sighed deeply. There was no more he could do for her that night. He put his hands on his knees. “William,” he called softly, “help me with the doors, won’t you?”
The lad jumped up and opened the door. Nicholas set aside the table, then lifted Morgan into his arms. She didn’t stir as he carried her out of the solar into the frigid night air, nor did she rouse when he and William took off her cloak and boots and put her to bed.
“More herbs, my lord?” William asked uneasily.
Nicholas shook his head. “We’re past herbs now, lad. Light the fire, would you? I’ll sit with her yet awhile. You go on to bed.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Nicholas sat in a chair at the foot of Morgan’s bed and watched her by the glow of hearthfire and candles. Either she would draw on her own strength to heal or she wouldn’t. All he could do was watch and hope.
There was nothing else to try.
One
Tor Neroche was under siege.
Miach of Neroche stood at his window and stared down into the courtyard below, contemplating the truth of that. It had been a brutal, unrelenting assault on the front gates for the previous fortnight. Now, though, it was only the latecomers who were rushing into the courtyard, come in their finery to witness the nuptials of Adhémar, king of Neroche, to the lovely and very demanding Adaira of Penrhyn.
The inside of the palace showed just how thorough the onslaught had been. There was hardly a scrap of floor within that was not covered by some sort of servant, pile of luggage, or minor noble wishing he had either come sooner or with more money to bribe the Mistress of the Wardrobe into giving him a decent place to sleep. Miach had found himself grateful for a change that he was Adhémar’s brother; at least he had a bed.
Unfortunately, even with his ties to the throne, he didn’t completely escape Mistress Wardrobe�
��s forbidding frowns or her charms of ward made against him when she thought he couldn’t see her. Obviously he had alarmed her at some point in the past. But he alarmed most of the servants simply by virtue of who he was and what he did, so perhaps there was no point in trying to determine where he had run afoul of her ire. For all he knew, she was unsatisfied with the deference he showed the king.
Adhémar no doubt shared that sentiment.
Miach sighed deeply, then turned away from the spectacle below. He was heartily sick of watching his brother prepare to wed when he had other things to be doing and other places to be going.
He sat down in front of his fire and closed his eyes. At least he could be seeing to his business whilst he waited for Adhémar to see to his. He stilled his mind and briefly examined his spells of defense on the northern border. Finding them unchanged from earlier that morning, he hesitated, then decided there was no harm in seeing to something of a more personal nature. He cast his mind farther in search of the essence of a certain woman. It was something he’d discovered he could do during the past month whilst he’d been about the taxing business of ignoring the wedding preparations going on downstairs.
He mentally roamed over the mountains, down and across the vast plains of Neroche to the south, then farther still across the sea to the Island of Melksham.
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Morgan was still alive on that island, just as she had been for the past month. He was tempted to see if he couldn’t have a more complete idea of how she fared, what she was doing, what she was thinking, but that seemed too invasive somehow. It was enough to know that she lived still.
He’d had moments when he feared she wouldn’t.
He opened his eyes, then jumped a little in surprise. His brother Cathar sat across from him, watching him gravely. Miach rubbed his hands over his face.