Free Highmage's Plight (Highmage’s Plight Series Book 1) by D.H. Aire Page B

concerns for his health.
    “What?”
    “It makes sense, he saved my life.”
    “Yes, but making Je’orj an honorary Lord of Cathart is likely something out of the old stories about Lord Kyrr.”
    The conversation paused as Vyss looked upon his wife with the same look of concern she had given to him.
    “Fri’il, I know you and I haven’t—”
    “Vyss, I was given to you as your wife. I knew you were sick and what was expected of me. If it were at all possible, I know we—”
    “And, uh, it wasn’t, was it?”
    “No, it wasn’t. But it is now, isn’t it? Do you want to, um…”
    “No! That wasn’t what I brought you out here to discuss. Fri’il, it was my life Je’orj saved. I have so little to show the honor I owe him.”
    Her eyes widened. “You don’t mean… oh.”
    The moment was punctured by Sire Ryff shouting back at the celebration.
    “Cle’or, where has our guest of honor gone?”
    She gestured to a half dozen others and they hastened out.
“Se’and, did you say anything to offend him?”
“Nothing, m’lord!”
    “Hmm, De’ohr!”
    Balfour moved to slip out but a couple of black liveried women cut him off, “Please sit, M’lord. Sire Ryff wishes to express his thanks to you and your companion.”
    Me’oh came back with dessert as the elfblood hesitated. She asked, “Would you join me at the table?”
    “If you promise to tell me what’s going on,” he replied.
    “It’ll only be a guess.”
    “Lead on, then.”
    De’ohr frowned at their sitting down together.
Outside, George was having his own meeting.
    “Of all the–! What are your crystalline circuits using for brains, Staff?!”
    ‘Now, George, when in Rome…’
    “Don’t give me that. Yes, she’s damn attractive, but if they think I’m going to sleep with her as—”
    “Ahem, m’lord Je’orj?” a feminine voice inquired.
    He turned around and saw Cle’or with a dozen of her unsmiling friends.
    “If you’d be so kind as to return to the dining tent, Sire Ryff would like to express his gratitude more fully.”
    ‘George, don’t make a scene. They seem more annoyed than seriously threatening.’
    He half whispered, “I noticed that.”
    George smiled and nodded at the women, gesturing for them to lead the way, saying, “Of course.”
 

Chapter 9: Gifts
    “Ah, our guest of honor has returned at last,” Sire Ryff said as he rose from his divan. “All here know of how you have saved my stricken son Vyss from death’s door. This festival meal is not enough to express our thanks. The Curse has been the bane of our people for thousands of years. Our greatest prophecy says that when a secondson has a secondson, the Curse will be forever broken. My son Vyss is the first secondson born in nearly four centuries. Your healing him, casting the evil that we could not see from him offers us the promise of the Prophecy in our generation!”
    There were cheers and applause all around.
    “I couldn’t have done it with Balfour here.”
    “Oh yes you could have!” the elfblood quickly shouted back, glancing in shock at the herbalist Me’oh beside him, who had given him a very clear idea of what gift Sire Ryff was about to bestow. “Really, it was all his doing!”
    George motioned to Balfour, “You’re too modest, my friend!”
    “Not this time,” he muttered, “oh, well, no good deed goes unpunished, my father always says.” Balfour covered his eyes.
    The Mother Shaman stiffened, sensing a sudden stillness all about them. She hardly dared to breathe as she felt something focusing intently. First she feared it was centered on her brother or nephew. She realized it was focused on George.
    Sire Ryff said, “We must honor you both for your deeds this day. Je’orj du Bradlei, Balfour du Winome, for saving the life of Vyss, the secondson, I pronounce you lords by bond. Rise, my daughter, Se’and, greet thy lord husband, Lord Je’orj.
    “Rise, my wife Me’oh, herbal healer of the People of Cathart. I free