Free Greendaughter (Book 6) by Anne Logston Page A

welcome even from their own clan, were more dismayed than pleased by the excitement and were glad to retreat to a quiet corner to eat and watch Rowan’s clan celebrate. A little more hesitantly, the elves offered the humans food and wine.
    “I have never seen the like,” Chyrie murmured to Valann, watching a handful of elves dance to the enthusiastic if not well-matched talent of nearly twice as many musicians. “Look—Redoak and Owl clan dancing together, and over there, Moon Lake and Inner Heart sharing cup. Do you think—can they be mates?”
    “Indeed they are,” a stick-slender female elf said, sitting down beside Chyrie. She was apparently Redoak, judging by her pale skin and the fiery red braid hanging down her back. “Welcome, kinsfolk. I am Brena. There are many mates between the clans now. It is one of the reasons our clan accepted Rowan’s offer to join the clans. Many of us are barren. There had been no children born to Redoak for nearly two decades.”
    “But you have hopes,” Chyrie observed, gesturing at the green band wrapping the elf’s arm.
    “I have hopes.” Brena paused. “Is it true that you have two seeds growing in your womb?”
    “Dusk says it is true,” Chyrie said. “I have no reason to doubt him, but I can scarce believe it.”
    “I would ask—” Brena fell silent again, glancing at Valann. “We know nothing of Wilding customs, but those of us who wear the green cord tonight will dance the High Circle, and I would ask—”
    Valann laughed.
    “I am honored, of course, kinswoman,” he said. “Why would you hesitate to ask?”
    “Customs differ between clans.” A tall male, bearing a striking resemblance to Brena, joined them, bearing a joint of roasted fowl. “We have heard it said that some clans couple only with their mates, like—” He glanced at the humans. “I am Suan, and Brena is my mate. It would be a great kindness if the mate of one touched by the Mother Forest would serve at her High Circle.”
    Val turned to Chyrie. “You will be all right alone?” he asked tenderly.
     “Hardly alone.” Chyrie smiled. “Go and welcome. May you sow the seeds of many strong young ones tonight.”
     “There is not one in this village who would not honor your mate,” Suan told Val. “She will lack for nothing we can provide her.”
    “Then, as I said, I am honored. But be warned, for my insatiable vixen of a mate will exhaust every man in your village if she is let.” Val grinned. He kissed Chyrie before he stood. “You should dance for them, my own spirit.” He took Brena’s hand and let her lead him out of the firelit clearing.
    “Is it true that you are a beast-speaker as well?” another elf asked Chyrie. “Gifted, and bearing child—two children? Are you an emissary of the Mother Forest?”
    “It is true that I am a beast-speaker,” Chyrie said patiently. “That much I know. The turn of the seasons will prove or disprove the rest. I would be well content with but one healthy child. If the Mother Forest has chosen to bless me with two, I will find it as much a marvel as do you.”
    “And look here,” Suan murmured, taking her hand and tracing the vine design on her arm. “I had heard that some clans make art on their very bodies, but I had never seen such. Is there more than this?”
    In answer, Chyrie stretched out her legs in the firelight and pulled up the edge of her leggings, showing how the vines had twined up the smooth amber skin.
    “Val has been working his art upon me for five decades,” Chyrie said, chuckling. “What he will do when I have no more undecorated skin, I do not know. Already my back is full covered. He tried to teach me the art, but I have no skill or patience for even the simplest of designs.”
    “Did Val say you danced?” Rivkah asked eagerly. “Like that?” She gestured to the hard-packed ground, where the elves—now hard-pressed for breath—were still dancing.
    “Not like that,” Chyrie admitted. “Wildings