Free The Wellspring by M. Frances Smith

summery item
in her wardrobe, but she finally settled on a nautical themed
T-strap mini dress of blue and white, red heels and an anchor
necklace. She touched her hand to the vanity mirror and left a
message for Hermes about where she’d gone, barely finishing before
her surroundings blurred and she was suddenly standing on a
weathered dock at a tropical marina facing Prosser Teomond who
looked relaxed and bored with wealth—as only the wealthy could
look, Yule found.
    “I hope you don’t mind seafood,” he greeted
her, taking her elbow and ushering her toward the double doors of
the restaurant perched dockside.
    “I love seafood,” she assured him, finding
she nearly had to trot to keep up with his extended, easy stride.
“And the sea air is so—relaxing.”
    “I couldn’t agree more.” He nodded to the
maitre de who immediately showed them to a table on the deck
overhanging the water. “We’re born to the sea and sand, our kind,”
he continued, holding her chair for her, the tables protecting
diners from direct sun with blue and white striped umbrellas.
“Spell-casters, of course.”
    “Of course,” she agreed, made slightly
uncomfortable by his comment because she never felt entirely
comfortable when compared to spell-casters in general, just as most
spell-casters with any notable power didn’t feel comfortable
calling her one of them.
    She waited for him to be seated, fussing with
the anchor embossed linen napkin and wondering when he planned to
tell her why he’d invited her to lunch. She didn’t imagine for a
moment that he’d brought her there to talk about the sea, the sand,
or even their shared heritage, but she restrained her impatient
queries because she didn’t want to risk insulting the man from whom
she was attempting to curry favor. Her patience was tested to the
breaking point as they ordered, chatted about local weather,
nibbled fresh baked breadsticks, and were finally served their
meals before he abandoned his frivolous luncheon banter.
    “I haven’t invited you here to bring you the
news you’ve been hoping to hear,” he advised her. “But that doesn’t
mean I’m saying no, it just means I need a few more days,” he
amended when her polite smile began to fade, and she brightened
again.
    “Then there’s still a possibility?”
    “Possibilities, I’m told, are endless,” he
told her before sampling his calamari.
    “I don’t suppose there’s any hope things
might be more—cemented before Marc leaves for Shangrilonn?”
    “I’d heard a rumor about the latest
expedition embarking for the Shelf,” Prosser mused. “So Mr.
Woodmont is casting off to the wilds, is he?”
    Yule nodded, trying to conceal the depth of
her disappointment. “He could be gone before I return from my
Retreat. It’s this weekend,” she added.
    “I can’t promise I’ll have a final answer by
then, but I will do everything in my power to make it happen.”
    Yule beamed at him. “You’re just marvelous!”
she cried spontaneously.
    Prosser chuckled at this and nearly lost the
calamari from his mouth, snatching up a napkin and covering his
lips while he recovered. “Some might say that’s a rather naïve
assessment of me,” he remarked before sipping his glass of
wine.
    “I don’t care what other people think,” she
assured him. “Considering how we started out, you’ve been terrific
about it all. To tell the truth, I can’t help feeling guilty that
there’s no way for me to properly say thank you. With all of your
power and wealth, there’s nothing I could do that you couldn’t do
or have done for you.”
    His short burst of genuine laughter drew
several curious glances. “I suppose that’s just about right,” he
agreed. “With many things, but not everything. In fact,” his voice
dropped to a mock conspiratorial level. “I can think of one thing
you could do on my behalf.”
    “You’re kidding?” she was surprised and
delighted, leaning toward him. “Whatever it is