Osh sees the start of a gray day

“Good morning, my darling.”
Paul and Catan had eyes only for the baby, but Osh had been more eager to see Flann.

“Good morning, my darling.”
Paul and Catan had eyes only for the baby, but Osh had been more eager to see Flann.

“Did you—”
Lady Lili had almost asked her husband whether he had seen his son, but it seemed a cruel question if he had not.

“‘I dream in my mind I embrace and I kiss my lord,’” Gwynn cried rapturously, louder than ever, for she had reached her favorite part of the poem. “‘And on his knees lay my hands and my head, as long ago, in days gone by, I sat me there.’”


Tryggve smiled slightly in anticipatory amusement as their host emerged from the castle. He was looking remarkably ill for a man who had had remarkably little to drink the night before.
“So!” Eirik cried. “Surprised to see me?”

Eirik did not like sleeping in strange beds.
This bed was particularly strange, for he had always slept in another room when he stayed at Lord Blaehwen’s castle—a room he had always shared with Tryggve. They’d even had it when they’d come through Hwitsands on their way to the wedding, but on their return trip Blaehwen had informed them that the room was being repaneled, and they’d been sent into separate rooms on different floors and in different wings.

“You may have wings,” Myrddin panted, “but it’s a long climb for legs.”
Dantalion smiled. “Feeling your age, old man?”

Britamund woke suddenly. She felt sick and achy and still very tired, but the room was red with dawn. What room was this?
Then she remembered everything.
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