Heart Quest by Robin D. Owens

Author:Robin D. Owens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Man-woman relationships, Fantasy fiction, Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Life on other planets, General, Love stories
ISBN: 9780425210840
Publisher: Berkley Sensation
Published: 2006-09-05T06:00:00+00:00

"My thanks." D'Holly inclined her head to the scrybowl, then turned back to Trif, rubbing her hands. "That's done." She looked around the room. "Now where would those HeartMate calls be?"

"Near Journeywoman status?" Trif squeaked.

"No doubt about it. Perhaps in that corner cabinet... emotionally Flaired melodies ..."

Trif's knees weakened and she staggered to a chair and dropped into it. Her flute rapped her knee and made her wince, so she set it aside on a table. Greyku crawled into her lap, making herself comfortable.

All Trif could think of was that she was free of Clover Fine Furnishings at last.

And that her parents would be calling to talk to her soon. Better go to Clover Compound. Teleport to Clover Compound, so she could recount the day's extraordinary events and—She remembered her promise to Tinne Holly. Anxiety crept along her nerves, but a promise was a promise.

D'Holly hummed as she set music spheres and flexistrips and history vizes in a bespelled bag; then she walked over to Trif and grinned down at her. "Lady and Lord, Trif, don't look so shocked. You must have known you had talent."

"I made tunes."

"You compose melodies. As I do." A shadow crossed her face. "Did," she said in a lower tone. "I haven't done much creative work lately." She ran a hand through her bronze hair in the first nervous gesture Trif had seen.

Clearing her throat, Trif petted Greyku and looked past D'Holly and said, "I, uh, my, uh. My family is building me a music room in my house in the Clover Compound. Could we possibly work there? So they, we, uh, could test the acoustics?"

D'Holly stared at her. Trif rushed on. "And Clover Compound is built in a square. It would be good to know the acoustics of the inner courtyard too." It was a lame excuse. She'd practiced there for years.

The lady stilled in the act of handing Trif the bag, then slowly nodded. "I would be honored. Tomorrow morning at Mid-Morning Bell?"

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