The cursed towers 293
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The little owl hooted softly in response. Wise auld mother waiting, she said.
Lilanthe stood in the darkness under the trees and watched Dide kiss Isabeau with a queer, soft pain
around her heart. Then she turned her back deliberately and walked away. On the lawn before the
palace, dancers were skipping round in wide circles within circles, while long chains of men and women
danced under the lantern-hung trees. Lilanthe got herself a cup of mulled wine and sipped it, watching
enviously, her foot tapping.
"Ye do no' dance, Lilanthe?" Niall came up beside her, Ursa the bear lumbering along behind him.
"No one wants to dance with a tree-shifter, they're afraid they'll trip over my feet," she said with a
self-mocking smile, lifting her skirt so he could see her broad, gnarled roots.
"But I've seen ye dance, ye're a dainty dancer indeed," he cried.
She smiled gratefully but said, "That was in comparison to the tree-changers. Anyone looks dainty in
comparison to them."
"Or to me," he said ruefully. "No one wants to dance with me because they're afraid if I step on their foot
I'll break it!"
Lilanthe laughed. "They're probably more afraid that Ursa will get jealous. I'll wager ye that if ye send her
off to bed with some honey, ye'll have flocks o' girls gathering round to dance wi' ye, hero that ye are."
He blushed and said awkwardly, "I'd rather dance wi' ye again."
"Really?" Lilanthe cried. "I'd love to dance. Do ye mean it?"
He bowed. "Madam, will ye give me the pleasure o' this dance?"
"Why, thank ye, sir." Lilanthe laid her twig-thin fingers in his huge, hard hand. Then she gave a little gasp
as he swung his arm around her waist, sweeping her off the ground and whirling her around. "See, your
feet do no' even have to touch the ground," he said. "That way I can be sure no' to break them."
"My feet are no' easily broken," Lilanthe replied when she had caught her breath. "They're tough as
wood, I'm afraid."
The trees closed over their heads as he swung her away from the crowd. "What about your heart?" he
said, very gruffly.
"My heart?"
"Is it easily broken?"
She flushed and did not know how to answer. "I do no' ken," she said at last. "It's never been
broken—but I do no' think that means it's hard."
He said, very low, "I saw ye watching your jongleur friend. He seemed very intent on the bonny lass wi'
the red hair like the Banrigh. Do . . . does that upset ye very much?"
They danced on in silence. Then she shook her leafy hair. "No. I always kent Dide was no' for me. We
are very different. He loves crowds and parties and smoky inns. I am a creature o' the forest, I'm afraid."
