Read Online Where Light Meets Shadow by Shawna Reppert - Free Book Online

completely.
    “It’s only that I have nothing
else to do at the moment,” he reassured Alban. “A situation for which, you need
not remind me again, I am entirely to blame. I should think that you would be
happy that the book at least keeps me quiet. It’s the chief fault of bards,
that if we’re not playing or singing, we’re talking.”
    “I like hearing you talk,” Alban
said. “When you’re not being angry or sulky, anyway. And I love to hear you
play. I imagine I would enjoy hearing you sing.”
    “Have I not sung for you? Surely
I have.”
    Alban shook his head. “A brief
snatch of some light mortal song.  No more.”
    “Come to my room tonight then and
I shall.”
    Kieran’s words sounded
tremendously flirtatious, and he hadn’t meant them as such. At least not with
any forethought.
    Kieran turned his attention from
the Leas who was, he reminded himself, an enemy and beyond his reach besides,
and focused on the book. Whispering of hope for his people and his queen while
still keeping its secrets locked away, the book tantalized him. He asked Alban
about the books referenced, but not only were they not currently in existence,
neither Alban nor his father nor any of their scholars ever heard mention of
the titles.
    That didn’t make sense. If they
were so well-known in their time that the author made casual reference to them,
then surely some mention of them would remain. Leas were nearly as well-known
for booklore as for healing.
    As the light in the window faded
from reds and golds to dusky purples, Alban again repeated his invitation to
dine with his family. Kieran, as always, declined.
    A servant brought Kieran’s dinner
to his room. Roasted venison, fresh, soft bread, a pear compote served with
cream. He could not fault the Leas in their feeding of prisoners. Guests.
Whatever he was.
    As Kieran ate, he thought about
what he would sing for Alban. No songs about the war, certainly. Or any war, to
be safe. He wanted to please Alban, not make him uncomfortable.
    And why was that so important to
him? A bard’s instincts to satisfy the audience? Although a bard could and did
use words as a weapon more readily—and in his own case, far more
effectively—than a sword.
    The Leas prince had been more
than hospitable to him. It would be churlish not to respond with equal
civility. A bard might be difficult, even uncomfortable to be around, but a
bard should never be churlish.
    He began to tune his harp. So, no
war songs and no songs in praise of Scathlan royalty—too easily read as
pointed, especially given the hostility he’d displayed toward the Leas when
he’d first arrived. Songs about wind and water, deep forests and bright summer
meadows, those would be safe. Both their peoples shared a love for the natural
world. Given Alban’s own hunting tales, he’d probably enjoy the funny one
Kieran had picked up a few villages back about the boastful hunter who lost his
hounds, his horse, and his way. Love songs? No. Yes. He was singing for
the Leas prince, not to him. Some of the best songs in his repertoire were love
songs. He refused to get all shy and nervous like some callow virgin before his
first love.
    The fact that he had been a
virgin not too very long ago didn’t enter into it, nor did the fact that he had
never been in love.
    A soft knock at the door heralded
Alban’s arrival. Kieran felt the same flutter of excitement that came from
playing before large audiences or important personages.
    Ridiculous, it was only Alban,
for whom he had played before. Alban, who often slipped into his room in the
evenings while Kieran harped. That was the difference. Always before, Alban
sitting quietly if appreciatively in the corner had been incidental to his
playing.
    Alban smiled shyly as he came
into the room and closed the door softly behind him. A faint blush painted
those pale cheeks, not entirely hidden by the fall of blond hair. So Kieran was
not the only one to feel the difference this