Dreamer's Daughter Read online

  Praise for

  the novels of the Nine Kingdoms

  River of Dreams

  “Elegant writing . . . An enchanting, vibrant story that captures romance, fantasy, and adventure with intriguing detail and an epic, fairy-tale sensibility.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Aisling and Rùnach’s tender romance sweetly ratchets up as they take turns saving each other from perilous danger, and series fans will be left eager to read about their future adventures.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Fantastic . . . As always, the world building is rich and vivid and the characters fascinating and well rounded, which is why Kurland’s books are truly awesome reads!”

  —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick)

  “Time after time, book after book, Lynn Kurland crafts a tale vividly alive with imagination . . . She weaves stories with a magic that could only be conjured from dreams.”

  —The Reading Cafe

  Dreamspinner

  “Fascinating, well-drawn characters and vibrant descriptions of magical situations and locations reinforce a vivid, enchanting narrative.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “The writing is classic Lynn Kurland—fluid and graceful.”

  —The Romance Reader

  “Awe-inspiring . . . The beginnings of a new quest that will be filled with ample quantities of adventure, magic and peril!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Lyrical writing, brilliant mental imagery, richly descriptive magic, and larger than life characterization.”

  —The Reading Cafe

  Gift of Magic

  “The exciting story line is fast-paced from the onset . . . Lynn Kurland spins another fabulous fantasy.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “A magical combination of action, fantasy, and character exploration that is truly wonderful! A journey well worth taking!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  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.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  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.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  Princess of the Sword

  “Beautifully written, with an intricately detailed society born of Ms. Kurland’s remarkable imagination.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “An intelligent, involving tale full of love and adventure.”

  —All About Romance

  The Mage’s Daughter

  “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

  Star of the Morning

  “Kurland launches a stunning, rich, and poetic new trilogy. The quest is on!”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “A superbly crafted, sweetly romantic tale of adventure and magic.”

  —Booklist

  More praise for New York Times bestselling author Lynn Kurland

  “Both powerful and sensitive . . . A wonderfully rich and rewarding book.”

  —Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Kurland weaves another fabulous read with just the right amounts of laughter, romance, and fantasy.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “Kurland . . . consistently delivers the kind of stories readers dream about. Don’t miss this one.”

  —The Oakland (MI) Press

  “[A] triumphant romance.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Woven with magic, handsome heroes, lovely heroines, oodles of fun, and plenty of romance . . . Just plain wonderful.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Spellbinding and lovely, this is one story readers won’t want to miss.”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “Breathtaking in its magnificent scope.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “Kurland infuses her polished writing with a deliciously dry wit . . . Sweetly romantic and thoroughly satisfying.”

  —Booklist

  “A pure delight.”

  —Huntress Book Reviews

  “A consummate storyteller.”

  —ParaNormal Romance Reviews

  “A disarming blend of romance, suspense, and heartwarming humor, this book is romantic comedy at its best.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A totally enchanting tale, sensual and breathtaking.”

  —Rendezvous

  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

  ROSES IN MOONLIGHT

  DREAMS OF LILACS

  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

  RIVER OF DREAMS

  DREAMER’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)

  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

  eSpecials

  “TO KISS IN THE SHADOWS” FROM TAPESTRY

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  DREAMER’S DAUGHTER

  Copyright © 2015 by Kurland Book Productions, Inc.

  Map illustration copyright © 2012 by Tara Larsen Chang.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices,
promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

  BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-59519-0

  An application to register this book for cataloging has been submitted to the Library of Congress.

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / January 2015

  Cover design by George Long.

  Cover art by Dan Craig.

  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.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Praise for Lynn Kurland

  Titles by Lynn Kurland

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Map

  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

  One

  The palace of Inntrig, seat of power in the country of Cothromaiche, was a very quiet place.

  It was difficult, perhaps, to be home to the sort of magic that flowed through the hills and dales of such a country, an unsettling magic that was rarely talked about and guarded jealously. More difficult still was providing shelter for the souls that inhabited that country, souls who understood that magic and possessed the means to use it. In the end, it was no doubt best, if you were any sort of sentient thing, to just keep your opinions to yourself and let those with the ability to split the world in half with their spells continue on their way unconversed with.

  It didn’t help matters any that Cothromaiche found itself so close to that most secretive of countries, Bruadair. As the residents of Cothromaiche had discovered, things tended to seep across the border, things that were perhaps not capable of being regulated by sharp-eyed customs agents and burly border guards. Dreams. Strange magic. Tales that stretched back into the mists of time so far that their authors could no longer be named. Those were the sorts of things that respectable library doors simply couldn’t bring themselves to discuss in polite company.

  Aisling of Bruadair stood in front of a pair of those mute doors and wished that the fixtures in the palace had been perhaps a bit less restrained. Though she wasn’t sure anything at that point would have put her at ease, she might have at least had someone to converse with about her troubles. Or something. In Cothromaiche, she supposed the distinction didn’t matter.

  Of course, there were two souls on the other side of those doors who would have been more than happy to discuss all manner of things pertaining to her present business, but considering who those two lads were, she didn’t think she wanted to hear what they might have to say.

  She closed her eyes and wondered how it was that a simple weaver from an obscure village in a country shrouded in secrecy and menace could possibly find herself garnering the notice of any but a well-dressed gentleman who might want cloth woven especially for him. Yet there she was, standing in a Cothromiachian king’s palace, terrified to face her future and wondering if it might be possible to run away before anyone noticed. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten from where she’d been to where she was at present, but she couldn’t deny that a book had been the start of all her troubles.

  She shivered. She’d owned but one book, and somehow purchasing it had led to being befriended by the peddler who had sold it to her, then subsequently being sent on a quest by that same peddler to look for a mercenary to save her country. What had happened to her along that journey was unbelievable enough that it likely should have found itself only between the covers of that book. Then again, her lone book had been a faithful listing of the military strictures of Scrymgeour Weger. Where her tale belonged was between the covers of a book on fables and myths.

  She looked at the massive doors in front of her. She would have put her hand on the wood to see what it might be willing to reveal about what sorts of books on fables and myths the library contained, but she knew there was no point. The finely carved doors were resolutely silent. If there happened to be a hint of a sshh offered as a suggestion, she could understand. She also supposed she could have been imagining that.

  That was a thought she found herself clinging to more often than not of late.

  She shifted a bit and decided that perhaps the wall near those doors wouldn’t mind if she leaned a shoulder against its sturdy self and caught her breath. She’d been struggling with that sort of thing for the past three days, since she had been rescued from an underground river that wended its way under Inntrig and no doubt served the palace gardener very well in his hothouse labors. The rescue had been timely given that she’d been on the verge of drowning.

  A day or two of simply eating and sleeping had done wonders for her body, but not as much for her mind. If she’d thought she would find peace and respite from the unrelenting realities of her life in Inntrig’s rather silent halls, she’d been thoroughly mistaken. Having the time to think had left her with more questions than answers, and the few answers she’d gotten were ones she hadn’t wanted. She didn’t want the rest of those necessary answers, but she supposed she would have to have them just the same. No sense in putting off the inevitable any longer.

  She reached out and reluctantly put her hand on the wood. It didn’t even shush her. It simply stood there, apparently too polite to mention that on its other side lay hundreds of books with potentially alarming contents. Unfortunately, books weren’t the only unsettling things inside that library. It also contained a gracious host with details about countries she didn’t particularly want to visit and the grandson of an elven king with plots and schemes on his mind.

  The door shifted under her hand as only a solid wooden door could, startling her out of her unproductive thoughts. She moved away, expecting to find someone coming out of the library, but realized it had just been the door acting on its own. Perhaps it knew something she didn’t. She frowned at it, but its only response was to open soundlessly. Caught, and so easily too.

  She sighed, then walked forward only to pause in spite of herself. She had seen her share of libraries over the past several fortnights which she supposed made her a decent judge of their quality. She’d seen collections of books gathered in a university, in a trio of palaces, and in a building so large she’d been almost frightened by its height. But in none of those places had she had the overwhelming urge to pull a random book off the shelf and curl up in a chair to simply spend the afternoon reading for pleasure.

  The walls in front of her were covered with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling; the floors were covered with lovely and obviously expensive carpets. The furniture was heavy and dark, upholstered with leather for the most part. There were either long tables ready to accept large numbers of books or smaller tables set next to chairs, obviously set there to support goblets of wine and plates of strengthening edibles.

  The surprising part of the room was the
light. There were windows along one wall, true, but they couldn’t possibly bring relief to all the nooks and crannies she could see. She supposed the lamps were lit by otherworldly means, though she could see no spells there. Obviously there was magic in Cothromaiche that she simply couldn’t recognize.

  She did recognize the two men sitting at a table near the windows, though, poring over books. Or, rather, arguing companionably about what they were reading. She leaned against a doorframe that didn’t immediately tell her to shove off and supposed the time for avoiding the two of them had come to an end. She had managed it fairly well over the past couple of days, abandoning them in the library while she spent her time spinning, walking in the garden, or simply pacing through the passageways and attempting to convince herself not to up and bolt for points unknown.

  Not that she ever would have managed the last, she supposed. Too much had happened to her for her to simply vanish into some obscure village and allow the world to continue on its course unchallenged, though perhaps it had been a single realization that had changed everything for her.

  She had magic.

  Worse still, those two men sitting there knew it.

  One of the men who sat there with a tranquil expression on his face and the sun glinting off his pale blond hair would have only listened to her make excuses as to why she needed to flee and said nothing in response. Then again, that was apparently what Soilléir of Cothromaiche did, that keeping of his own counsel. For all she knew, he’d learned it from the bloody library doors.

  She looked at the other man sitting there, dark-haired and rather less disinterested in what she was doing than he perhaps would have admitted. That was Rùnach of Ceangail, son of a black mage and elven princess. If she had told him she was about to run, he would have reminded her that she had agreed not only to allow him to save her country for her but wed him as well and that both would have been rather difficult if she disappeared into the night. He wasn’t at all happy with the thought of her coming along on what was in truth her own quest, but he had given up arguing with her. There was no question of his going into Bruadair without her. She knew the country; he did not.

  It would have been cowardly to say how desperately she wished she knew nothing at all.