Tithed by Megan Hart Page A

eyebrow, as though Elspeth's politely phrased response had surprised her, but she smiled. "Grand, lass. I'll bring your drinks right over, ladies."
         "Sweet Astria, if I looked like her, I'd never get out of bed." Callis shifted in her chair, watching Gretel sashay away.
         "You wouldn't?" Elspeth turned to look at the Callis. "Why not? She's beautiful."
         Callis looked perplexed for a moment before laughing. "Oh, Elspeth, you're such a dear."
         Damn. She'd said the wrong thing. Again. 'Twas a talent, she supposed, to consistently come out with the wrong words.
         Gabriana came to her rescue again. "Callis didn't mean she'd stay abed out of grief, Elspeth. She meant that if she looked like Gretel, she'd have so many lovers, she'd never get out of bed."
         Again, Elspeth blushed. "Ah. Of course."
         In a world where lovemaking was as practiced a pastime as playing a sport or taking up a hobby, the subject of sex was not one that ought to have brought such heat to her cheeks. Yet of course it did, because though lovemaking was considered not only an enjoyable part of life but a necessary one, Elspeth did not partake.
         Her colleagues wouldn't have known that, of course. It wasn't good manners to ask, and she doubted they'd assume she was celibate. She was a magicreator after all. An instructor at Somnus Keep. Arithmancy, the study of numerical values used to make predictions, meant she rarely had to harness the power of the thrall. Nobody had to know her control of it was flawed, that though she could sometimes form an orb of power, she could never sustain it or make it do anything more than look pretty sitting on her palm. She was a magicreator who could not control the high magic and therefore could not use it. She was a failure, and worse than that.
         Elspeth Valerin was a fraud.
         "Here we go, ladies." Gretel returned bearing a tray of glasses she set down in front of all of them with the unerring memory of a good server. "Ale for you, my lovely."
         "Thank you."
         Gretel smiled and put her hand on her ample hip. "Anything else I can get for you, loves?"
         "This will do for now." Dayla sipped from her glass, the foam from the ale coating her upper lip.
         Gretel moved away, and Elspeth watched her work the tables. She flirted with the men, and if her obvious pleasure at their attention was false, she did a fine job of making it believable. Envy, fierce and shocking, made Elspeth gulp her ale. A woman with control like that over her body could do anything.
         "Two sevendays of freedom!" Gabriana crowed. "What will you do with it?"
         "Sleep in!" Callis wriggled with a gleeful sound.
         "Stay up late," Dayla countered.
         "What about you, Elspeth? Have you any grand plans for the holiday?"
         Elspeth intended to do the same thing on her holiday she did all the rest of the time—study, read, knit. Perhaps continue to work toward advanced certification in her field.
         She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Callis pointed discreetly and gave a whispered giggle. "There he is!"
         "Who?" Elspeth asked, even as she followed Callis's pointing finger with her gaze.
         "The owner. Conn." Dayla giggled too. "I forgot you've never come with us before. Isn't he beautiful?"
          Conn. T he name was not uncommon. Hundreds of mothers must have named their sons the same. The man who owned this pub, the beautiful man who had all the ladies giggling and pointing, did not have to be the same Connell from her past.
         But he was.

         "Your admiration club is here," said Gretel as Connell came from the storeroom, hefting a fresh keg to tap.
         He settled the keg behind the bar and gave her a grin. "Yeah? Which ones?"
         "You're too convinced of your own charm." Gretel rolled her eyes, but nodded toward the back