Gift of Magic Read online

  Praise for

  the novels of the Nine Kingdoms

  Spellweaver

  “Kurland’s flowing prose combined with a strong multibook story arc and complex, evolving characters come together to make 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

  “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

  “Charming, romantic, and verging on the wistfully sweet…Kurland deftly mixes innocent romance with adventure in a tale that will leave readers eager for the next installment.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Ruith and Sarah 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 Kingdom books.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  “Lynn Kurland takes her audience back to the Nine Kingdoms with a strong opening act. Fans will feel the author magically transported them to her realm.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  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

  “Engaging characters—family, friends, and enemies—keep the story hopping along with readers relishing every word and hungering for the next installment. [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

  “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

  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 GARDEN IN THE RAIN

  A DANCE THROUGH TIME DREAMS OF STARDUST

  THIS IS ALL I ASK MUCH ADO IN THE MOONLIGHT

  THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU WHEN I FALL IN LOVE

  ANOTHER CHANCE TO DREAM WITH EVERY BREATH

  THE MORE I SEE YOU TILL THERE WAS YOU

  IF I HAD YOU ONE ENCHANTED EVENING

  MY HEART STOOD STILL ONE MAGIC MOMENT

  FROM THIS MOMENT ON

  The Novels of the Nine Kingdoms

  STAR OF THE MORNING A TAPESTRY OF SPELLS

  THE MAGE’S DAUGHTER SPELLWEAVER

  PRINCESS OF THE SWORD GIFT OF MAGIC

  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

  Lynn Kurland

  GIFT of

  MAGIC

  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.)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (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 imagi
nation 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 © 2012 by Kurland Book Productions, Inc.

  Cover illustration by Dan Craig.

  Cover design by George Long.

  Cover hand lettering by Ron Zinn.

  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® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

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

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / January 2012

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kurland, Lynn.

  Gift of magic / Lynn Kurland.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.

  p. cm

  ISBN 978-0-425-24520-0

  I. Title.

  PS3561.U645G54 2012

  813’.54—dc23

  2011038763

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  One

  T

  he spell slammed into him with the force of a score of fists. Ruithneadh of Ceangail met the ground with equal force. He lay on his back, winded, and stared up into the darkness above him. He couldn’t decide if the stars he saw were ones his poor wee brain had created for his pleasure or ones twinkling in the sky for their own purposes. It was still at least an hour before dawn, so he supposed it was possible it was merely the heavens still displaying their sparkling finery.

  He realized after a bit that he hadn’t noticed it had begun to sleet. Perhaps what was swirling in front of his eyes was less a vision of the heavens than it was the aftereffects of a spell he’d known was coming his way but had been unfortunately less prepared to counter than he would have liked. He would have blinked the stinging rain out of his eyes, but it was too much effort. Breathing was too much effort as well given that all that seemed to be left of him was a void in his chest where his breath was accustomed to reside.

  That was his own fault, he supposed. He’d thought a little sparring with spells before breakfast might be a good way to begin his day. And why not? His opponent had been a worthy one, and he had himself been eager to take any opportunity to improve his rather meager magical strength.

  But now that he had regained what good sense he’d lost somewhere on his way to the appointed field of battle, he was prepared to revisit the conclusion he’d come to years ago:

  Magic and all its incarnations should be sent briskly along to hell.

  ’Twas a pity he hadn’t clung to that very sensible belief as firmly as he should have.

  In his defense, he had tried. He had spent the previous score of winters in a house on the side of a mountain, conducting his life by purely pedestrian means. His days had been amply filled by roaming through the woods near his home, occasionally sampling the local alemaster’s delicate apple-flavored ale, and continually stretching himself to perfect his recipe for unburned bread. Any magic he might or might not have possessed had been nothing but a distant and unpleasant memory, a memory that had occasionally plagued his dreams but never his waking hours—

  He pursed his lips, the only part of him that seemed to be capable of movement at the moment. Very well, so memories of magic had plagued his dreams more than occasionally and intruded more than he wanted to admit upon his daylight ruminations. He had made it his life’s quest to ignore those memories and dreams and other things that made him profoundly uncomfortable.

  At least he had until his peaceful if not exactly useful existence had come to an abrupt end one evening at twilight when a knock had sounded on his door. Answering it—against his better judgement, as it happened—had resulted in finding himself cast headlong into a rushing river of a quest that had carried him places he’d never intended to go again—

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked me to check mercy at the edge of the field.”

  Ruith winced as his breath returned, followed rapidly by the feeling in most of his limbs. He imagined he wouldn’t be overly happy to discover what was left of his back after its meeting with the rock-hard ground, but there was nothing to be done about that. It would take his mind off the road in front of him, a road he knew would include death, danger, and duels of spells with men who would no doubt continue to suddenly and without warning appear from his past. Such as the one leaning over him, frowning thoughtfully at him.

  He found he had breath after all to at least wheeze out a vile suggestion as to what his opponent might do with his annoying observations.

  Mochriadhemiach of Neroche only laughed, grasped Ruith by the hand, and hauled him up to his feet. He stood back and looked him over critically. “I think we should have another go.”

  Ruith thought quite a few things himself, namely that he had gravely underestimated the truly evil nature of the youngest prince of Neroche. They had spent a fair amount of time together as lads, slipping away from responsible adults to whisper along passageways as chill breezes only to regroup in private to have lengthy looks at books of spells housed behind sturdy locks. He was, if he could be permitted a bit of self-congratulation, a damned fine picker of sturdy locks, much better than Neroche’s newly crowned king.

  A pity he hadn’t maintained the same sort of abilities with his magic.

  Which was, he supposed, why he found himself standing unsteadily in the middle of a muddy field with sleet stinging his skin where it struck him, gritting his teeth and fighting to ignore the particular draining sort of weariness the weaving of heavy spells caused, and finding it in him to be grateful for time spent with a mage he was fairly sure wouldn’t kill him as he stretched his own powers of endurance.

  At least there was no one there to watch him shake not only from weariness but from revulsion over the disgusting nature of the spells Miach was no doubt dredging up for his benefit alone. He had no desire to know from whence Miach had unearthed them. If the man hadn’t looked so damned casual about spewing them out, Ruith might have felt sorry for him that the like were rattling around in his wee head.

  “Perhaps you would rather return to seek out a soft seat and a hot fire?”

  Ruith shot Miach a look. “I think I will manage another few moments without either, thank you just the same.”

  “Truly, you don’t look well.”

  “I appreciate your solicitude.”

  Miach only lifted one shoulder slightly. “I’m altruistic.”

  Ruith could have brought to mind several other things he would have preferred to call him, but the truth was Miach was a fairly decent soul, his vile collection of spells aside. He had been willing, after all, to abandon not only sleep but an inedible breakfast to march out into the gloom and toss a few spells about. Admirable traits, those.

  He was also lazy, illustrated by the fact that he seemed content to simply stand there and yawn for a bit. Ruith was happy to take advantage of that to put off the torture for a bit longer, not only to catch his breath but also to look about himself to make certain they were still abou
t their unpleasant labors unobserved. He noted nothing, but that didn’t surprise him. The inn was at least half a league behind them and surely no one else would tramp through heavy spring snow to reach the clearing Miach had noticed as he’d come on wing from his home in the west.

  And even if anyone had known the glade was there, they wouldn’t have been able to take a closer look given that it was now covered by a glamour provided by none other than that illustrious king of Neroche. That spell, Ruith suspected, had been poached from Ruith’s grandfather. Ruith didn’t remember having been there for that bit of thievery, though he’d certainly accompanied Miach on several other forays into Sìle of Tòrr Dòrainn’s library under cover of darkness. To say Sìle had disliked Miach for those intrusions was to put it mildly.

  “Ruith?”

  Ruith pulled himself back to the present, then smiled briefly. “Sorry. I was just wondering when it was you filched that spell for my grandfather’s glamour and what you did to ingratiate yourself so thoroughly with him that he didn’t do damage to you for it when last you met.”

  “Oh, he wasn’t at all happy to see me,” Miach allowed with a rueful smile, “but I had brought your sister to Seanagarra which earned me a bit of forbearance. I suppose nothing but good manners prevented him from killing me once he’d recovered from his surprise at seeing her.”

  “Did Grandmother Brèagha prevent him from forcing you to sleep in the stables?”

  Miach laughed a bit. “Aye, she did, thankfully. And as for all that unwarranted animosity toward me he’d entertained over the years, I daresay he thought I was corrupting you, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

  “Perhaps he was soured by all the times he caught you in either his library or his private solar?”

  “With you leading the way?” Miach returned politely. “No doubt. And whilst we’re discussing who corrupted whom, I seem to remember your having taught me several spells I hadn’t considered myself, most of them having to do with shapechanging so we could venture into other, more exclusive places mere mortals would have considered utterly unassailable.”