Free Where Light Meets Shadow by Shawna Reppert Page B

would be.
    Had his father ever seen this
book? Surely with his greater knowledge, he would have had far less trouble
deciphering it. If only his father had survived, if only Kieran had half his
father’s knowledge and skill, then maybe this would not have been a fool’s quest
from the beginning.
    He rapped his fingers against the edge of the desk, playing imaginary scales too fast
until a hand closed over his.
    “I think you should take a break
from this,” Alban said. “Honestly, if I had known it would vex you so, I would
have never shown that cursed book to you.”
    “Thank you for your insight, O
Prince of Light,” Kieran snapped. “Perhaps the problem is not the book, but the
useless fool reading it.”
    Alban frowned. “Who has ever
called you useless? I know I have not.”
    “Most of the people in my life at
one time or another. And I fear they are right.”
    “With the way you play? The way
you sing? Nonsense.”
    Alban took the book from him.
Only Kieran’s fear for the fragile parchment and leather prevented him from
tugging it back. He hissed through bared teeth as Alban put the book away and
closed the drawer.
    “Come, why don’t we go back to
your room and you can harp for me?”
    “Don’t patronize me!”
    “Then tell me, what will it take
to put you in a better mood by dinner? Father explicitly wishes you to join us
tonight.”
    “I have no desire to do so.”
After a day of utterly failing to aid his queen and his people, the Leas
expected him to make polite conversation with the two who selfishly destroyed
them?
    Only Alban had no idea what the
book meant to him. He couldn’t possibly understand the depth of his frustration
which, in any case, Kieran should not take out on him.
    “Father has asked it,” Alban
said.
    “Asked or commanded?”
    Alban shrugged. “It seems a small
enough matter.”
    “Then it shouldn’t cause a
problem should I decline.” Kieran gave a tight smile. “If your father prefers
to insist, I am certain he has guards enough to compel my obedience.”
    Alban’s eyes went hard, cold.
“Should you prefer to be treated as a prisoner rather than a guest,
that can be arranged.”
    “So you admit now to my true
status.”
    Kieran said it mostly to hurt
Alban, who was not the true source of frustration and did not deserve the
attack. He took a deep breath, trying to find an apology, but Alban spoke first.
    “I will leave you to the company
of the books, since you do not seem to want mine. My father thinks I waste too
much time with you as it is. Will you want to return to your rooms to rest
before dinner?” Alban asked without looking at him.
    “If it’s all the same to you, I’d
rather not brave those stairs more often in one day than I have to.” Kieran
smiled, trying for ingratiating humor at his own incapacity.
    Maybe he just needed some time
alone.
    Alban nodded sharply. “We will
dine in my parents’ private rooms, which are on this floor. I will come and
collect you in an hour, which will give us plenty of time to get there, even
with your crutches. Do please leave that damned book in its drawer and find
something cheering.”
    Perhaps later might be better for
an apology.
    Alban left the library. After the
echoes of his footsteps faded, Kieran slid the book out of the drawer. His
concentration had diminished, however, as his mind turned over the argument,
trying and failing to justify his own behavior. He felt as guilty as he did
when he snapped at Brona because a composition was not going well.
    After a while, he put the book
away in favor of a collection of ballads that predated the wars. The ballads
had been written by Leas, but they could have just as easily been Scathlan. Not
only the language used, but the phrasing and the imagery had far more in common
than any elven song would have with a mortal’s work.
    Kieran could find differences, of
course. A Leas would be more likely to compare his love to a hawk soaring high
above lofty peaks than to