Praise for
the novels of the Nine Kingdoms
Gift of Magic
“The exciting story line is fast-paced from the onset…Lynn Kurland spins another fabulous fantasy.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“With her storytelling gifts, Kurland weaves a magical combination of action, fantasy, and character exploration that is truly wonderful! A journey well worth taking!”
—Romantic Times
Spellweaver
“One of the strongest fantasy novels welcoming in the new year.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Kurland weaves together intricate layers of plot threads, giving this novel a rich and lyrical style. Not only does mystery and danger abound, but also the burgeoning of a love and trust that is wonderful to behold. Kurland is an elegant spinner of tales!”
—Romantic Times
“A magical world with a Celtic setting, Spellweaver is a romantic adventure with surprises and danger around every corner. Beautifully written, this tale is filled with mages, witches, spells, and shape-shifting, but also with plenty of intricate details of the incredible world around them.”
—Romance Reviews Today
A Tapestry of Spells
“Kurland deftly mixes innocent romance with adventure in a tale that will leave readers eager for the next installment.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Captured my interest from the very first page…Lynn Kurland’s time travel series might occupy a favored place on my shelves, but I think she truly shines in the Nine Kingdoms books.”
—Night Owl Romance
“Once again [Kurland] uses her gift for place and character to weave an adventurous tale that will have readers breathlessly awaiting the next chapter. Good stuff indeed!”
—Romantic Times
Princess of the Sword
“Beautifully written, with an intricately detailed society born of Ms. Kurland’s remarkable imagination.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“An excellent finish to a great romantic quest fantasy…Readers will relish Ms. Kurland’s superb trilogy.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“An intelligent, involving tale full of love and adventure.”
—All About Romance
The Mage’s Daughter
“[A] perfect ten.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Lynn Kurland has become one of my favorite fantasy authors; I can hardly wait to see what happens next.”
—Huntress Reviews
“The Mage’s Daughter, like its predecessor, Star of the Morning, is the best work Lynn Kurland has ever done. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.”
—Fresh Fiction
“I couldn’t put the book down…The fantasy world, drawn so beautifully, is too wonderful to miss any of it…Brilliant!”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
“This is a terrific romantic fantasy. Lynn Kurland provides a fabulous…tale that sets the stage for an incredible finish.”
—Midwest Book Review
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.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Entertaining fantasy.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“An enchanting writer.”
—The Eternal Night
“A superbly crafted, sweetly romantic tale of adventure and magic.”
—Booklist
More praise for the novels of Lynn Kurland
Till There Was You
“Spellbinding and lovely, this is one story readers won’t want to miss.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
With Every Breath
“Kurland is a skilled enchantress…With Every Breath is breathtaking in its magnificent scope, a true invitation to the delights of romance.”
—Night Owl Romance
When I Fall in Love
“Kurland infuses her polished writing with a deliciously dry wit, and her latest time-travel love story is sweetly romantic and thoroughly satisfying.”
—Booklist
Much Ado in the Moonlight
“A consummate storyteller…Will keep the reader on the edge of their seat, unable to put the book down until the very last word.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
Dreams of Stardust
“Kurland weaves another fabulous read with just the right amounts of laughter, romance, and fantasy.”
—Affaire de Coeur
A Garden in the Rain
“Kurland…consistently delivers the kind of stories readers dream about. Don’t miss this one.”
—The Oakland (MI) Press
From This Moment On
“A disarming blend of romance, suspense, and heartwarming humor, this book is romantic comedy at its best.”
—Publishers Weekly
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
ONE ENCHANTED EVENING
ONE MAGIC MOMENT
ALL FOR YOU
The Novels of the Nine Kingdoms
STAR OF THE MORNING
THE MAGE’S DAUGHTER
PRINCESS OF THE SWORD
A TAPESTRY OF SPELLS
SPELLWEAVER
GIFT OF MAGIC
DREAMSPINNER
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
Specials
“To Kiss in the Shadows” from TAPESTRY
Lynn Kurland
DREAMSPINNER
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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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 Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Pengui
n Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North 2193, South Africa • Penguin China, B7 Jaiming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North, Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China
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.
DREAMSPINNER
Copyright © 2012 by Kurland Book Productions, Inc.
Excerpt from Star of the Morning by Lynn Kurland copyright © 2006 by Lynn Curland.
Map illustration copyright © 2012 by Tara Larsen Chang.
Cover art by Dan Craig. Cover design by George Long.
Interior text design by Tiffany Estreicher.
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 registered trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / January 2013
ISBN: 978-1-101-59186-4
An application to register this book for cataloging has been submitted to the Library of Congress.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON
DREAMSPINNER
Table of Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Star of the Morning
Prologue
A gentle breeze whispered over the waters of Lake Cladach, carrying with it a goodly amount of the last of winter’s chill. The waves rolled up endlessly onto a fine sandy beach on one side of the pier and up against a haphazard collection of smaller rocks that turned into boulders as they retreated from the shore on the other. Those boulders were just the right size for a lad to sit on and try his luck at catching something for supper.
Rùnach of Ceangail walked down a long, weathered dock and stopped at its end. He looked out over the lake as it sparkled with the dying rays of an early spring sunset. He could bring to mind innumerable occasions when he had either sat on one of those rocks by the shore or made himself at home exactly where he was currently standing, with rod and tackle, and pitted his skill against the inhabitants of his grandfather’s lake. He had, as a matter of honor, never used magic to lure the fishes his way, nor cast a spell to make them visible, nor otherwise done anything to give himself an unfair advantage.
He knew from experience that there was more to the lake and its environs than met the eye. The waves laughed as they lapped against the rocks, the birds sang, the trees reached back into their timeless memories and told tales that were strange and unchanging, the flowers chattered, and over it all the wind murmured endlessly of the things it had heard. Only now it was just wind, just water, just trees with their branches moving gently. He heard no song, listened to no tales, could not tell where the fish were biting.
It was odd how one’s self-imposed prohibitions as a youth could become one’s life-imposed limitations as a man.
He would have given quite a bit to have escaped those constraints, but sometimes escape wasn’t possible. Escape was especially difficult when what a man wanted to do was flee his beloved, well-meaning, but somewhat stifling family.
That was something, that thought, given how long he had been without family. And now to want to leave them behind…he shook his head. It said more about him, surely, than it did them. Then again, he had been to two weddings in the previous fortnight. Perhaps he could be forgiven for wanting to run.
He looked out over what was, he was quite convinced, the most beautiful lake in the Nine Kingdoms. He would have given much to have simply turned himself into something with wings and hurtled out across that deep blue water that was rather less still than usual, but he was who he was so he simply let the thought slip past him without holding on to it. He put his hands on a bit of railing that overlooked a rocky patch of beach and settled for clutching wood.
He looked down at his hands dispassionately, rather thankful for the shadows that showed less of what they were than did the harsh light of midday. They were useful hands, which was an improvement, but they were not the hands of a mage. They weren’t the hands of a swordsman either, though they bore a web of scars that perhaps a swordsman would have been proud of. Only he hadn’t won his scars in any battle with swords. He didn’t particularly care to think about the details of how he had earned them, truth be told.
He looked back over the lake and suspected it might be time to be on his way. He had already said his farewells to his sister Mhorghain and her husband Miach, and his brother Ruithneadh and his wife Sarah earlier. He’d taken tea with his grandmothers and argued loudly and at great length with his grandfather Sìle before, during, and after luncheon. That only left his grandfather Sgath to exchange opinions with about his plans.
A discreet cough sounded from behind him.
Rùnach turned and saw Sgath of Ainneamh, lately of Lake Cladach, standing at the end of the dock, looking as if he was considering whether or not he dared approach. Rùnach smiled wryly and waved his grandfather on.
Sgath, who it had to be said looked not much older than Rùnach himself, walked over the well-tended wood and joined Rùnach at the end of the dock. Rùnach studied his grandfather thoughtfully. He wondered, at times, whom he resembled more, Sgath or his mother’s brother Laìdir, but the truth was he couldn’t have said. He hadn’t looked in a polished glass in a score of years, and before then he’d limited his admiring of his visage to what he could see of it in a well-polished sword—
“Off on an adventure, are you?”
Rùnach looked at Sgath warily. “I was considering it.”
“Leaving me to face Sìle’s grumbles for who knows how long,” Sgath said. “That seems rather unkind.”
Rùnach sighed deeply and turned back to look out over the lake. His mother’s father Sìle had done slightly more than grumble at him that day.
What in the bloody hell are you thinking? his grandfather had bellowed directly into his ear directly after breakfast. Sìle had shouted quite a few more things at him, but he didn’t have the energy to bring the particulars to mind at present. They mostly had to do with Sìle’s inability to understand how Rùnach could possibly prefer life out in the wilds of the Nine Kingdoms to a comfortable, elegant existence in Seanagarra, arguably the most beautiful place on earth.
Rùnach hadn’t been able to answer. He’d simply soothed his grandfather with compliments, been charming during the day, and slipped out when his grandfather had been distracted by the menu for supper.
He released the railing. He rubbed his hands together—gingerly, for they still pained him—then turned and looked full at his father’s
father. “If it eases you any, I imagine he’ll go back to Seanagarra to grumble where he can put his feet up on his own stool and make a proper job of it.”
“One could hope.” Sgath paused, then looked at Rùnach. “You know I don’t like to agree with Sìle if I can help it, but out in the middle of nowhere, son? Surely there is somewhere comfortable you could choose to land instead.”
“Where would you suggest I go?” Rùnach asked.
“Back to Buidseachd?”
Rùnach pursed his lips before he could stop himself. He had spent half his life there, haunting the library at the schools of wizardry, pretending to be the servant of the most powerful master there whilst in reality being kept safe by that same master. He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “Soilléir has been enormously kind to feed and house me there for all these years, but I can’t impose on his hospitality any longer. And, because you won’t ask, I’ll answer and tell you that he did offer.”
Sgath sighed. “You need to make your way in the world, I suppose.”
Rùnach looked at him seriously. “And what else am I to do, Grandfather? Remain here at your home for the rest of my exceptionally long life, eating at your table, loitering in your salon, drinking your very fine wine?”
“I can think of less tolerable guests.”
Rùnach couldn’t bring himself to smile. “My other choice is to give in and return to Seanagarra with Sìle, to take up the life of a pampered elven prince.”
“Oh, I imagine Sìle would find something useful for you to do,” Sgath said.
“What?” Rùnach asked, more sharply than he’d intended. He dragged his hand through his hair, then looked at his grandfather wearily. “Let me attempt that again, more politely this time. With what task, Grandfather, would he saddle me? I have no magic, no sight, nothing but the hard, grim realities of a mortal life coupled with elven years. I could walk through the halls of Seanagarra, but I would see nothing of Sìle’s glamour, hear nothing whispering in the wind, feel nothing coursing through my veins besides my dull, unmagical blood.”