Jun 10, 2015
As they began to sway together in the lilt of the pipes, he bent forward to place his lips near her ear. "Ytwydda - Twyla, my soul lies cupped in the palm of your hand," he murmured. She froze for an instant, drawing back so she could look up into his face, her eyes wide and startled, lips parted. Then she smiled and the sun rose in her eyes. "Leydon, your soul is sheltered safe within my hands and my heart," she replied clearly. He laughed in sheer delight and swept her up into his arms. She clung to him, laughing, too, as he ran through the dancers, carrying her toward the soft spring grass waiting for them in the shelter of the oak trees.
Ann Marston, Kingmaker’s Sword
