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Geric was nevertheless built large in all else. A big blunt face, massive shoulders and chest and arms the envy of a blacksmith. Grave by nature, his eyes lit up at the sight of her.
    “Ailith,” he said, fondly, and stopped to drop a kiss upon her brow.
    Smiling, she returned the kiss but reached up on tiptoe to put hers on his cheek. She slid an arm around his to walk with him down the stairs.
    “Off with the Hunters?” he asked, with a glance at her pack and sword.
    She nodded. “Gwillim asked for an extra hand as someone’s reported another boggin loose.”
    “At least it’s not boggarts,” Geric said, his mouth thinning. “Wasn’t there one of those reported only last week?”
    It disturbed Ailith as well, another little disquiet to niggle at the back of her mind.
    “Yes and they had the worst time chasing it down as well.”
    “Something has the borderlands in a tizzy,” Geric said, “perhaps trolls have moved into boggin territory. Let me know how the hunt goes, will you, my dear?”
    “Of course.”
    As his daughter and Heir to his Kingdom, it was no less than her duty.
    Tanith, the castle chatelaine, appeared as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
    “A gentleman to see you, my Lord, he says he has business he must discuss with you.”
    Geric sighed and gave a rueful smile to his daughter. “It seems I no sooner have a moment free than I’m called away. I’d thought to see you off.”
    With a smile, Ailith hugged his arm.“No need. I’ll bid my farewells to Mother and see myself off.”
    Patting her arm before releasing it, Geric turned to the chatelaine. “Where have you put him?”
    “In your office, my Lord Geric. I thought you’d rather meet with him there rather than the Great Hall. His name is Tolan.”
    “Very good. Thank you,” Geric said, following Tanith with one fleeting glance of regret over his shoulder at his daughter.
    Ailith smiled, shook her head and waved him on before going out to the courtyard.
    If there was one sure place to find her mother on any given day, it was in her herbarium against the walls of the castle where the breeze would carry off the more noxious fumes of some of her decoctions.
    As usual, Selah was intent on brewing some poultice, infusion or such against need, although Ailith was aware of none at the moment.
    Selah’s light-brown head was bent, the long straight hair caught back at the nape of her neck falling nearly to the small of her back.
    There was a serene beauty about her mother that was not so much a matter of feature but of the calm quietness that so marked her. Like Ailith’s own, her features were even and regular with strongly arched brows, a well-shaped nose and clear blue eyes. Many folks remarked that Ailith was much her mother’s daughter in looks, save that Ailith’s features were more defined. Some said more willful while others said more impish, depending on the mood she was in when they caught her. Selah herself so resembled her own mother that some confused them for sisters more than mother and daughter.
    As Queen of a lesser Kingdom, such common labor wasn’t required but Selah enjoyed it and had such a gift for it that no one commented on it. She had a green thumb such as could make nearly anything grow and a sure, instinctive knowledge of which combination of herbs would heal ills. Even the chirurgeons in Riverford town consulted her upon a time.
    Sensing Ailith’s presence as she always did, Selah raised her head, her eyes warming at the sight of her daughter. A woman of reserve, she rarely smiled but when she did it raised both pride and pleasure on those few upon which it was bestowed. Her rare smiles were kept more for her husband and daughter than for any other.
    “Ailith,” she said, her love, warmth and delight clear in her voice. “And dressed for Hunting. So, are you off, my love?”
    For all that both her mother and father were somewhat reticent, a matter of their station as much as their natures, they were a