The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(117)

He looked at that remarkable woman sitting there in that glorious emerald gown and found himself without a single useful thing to say.

“Speechless,” she noted. “An interesting development.”

“Just trying not to distract you from your admiring of the very fine figure I cut in evening garb,” he managed.

She only smiled at him as if she found him somewhat tolerable. He didn’t dare hope for anything else, never mind that he shouldn’t have been hoping for anything else—

Ah, hell. There was no hope for it. He was, he had to admit, rather lost. He shook his head. A horse gel. Who would have thought it? He was tempted to linger with that very pleasant thought for a bit longer, but he knew he couldn’t. He struggled to drag his thoughts back to where they should have been—namely focused on the business of those damned pieces of shadow—but he was interrupted by the king of Neroche returning with glasses and a bottle or two. He sighed, then walked over to shut the door behind his sister’s husband.

From there, things proceeded on the usual course that polite after-entertainment parleys generally took. He stood—well, he leaned, actually—against the hearth and listened to Léirsinn and Miach converse on subjects that he expected Miach assumed would interest her.

“I am ignorant of the world outside Sàraichte,” Léirsinn said. “I would prefer to remedy that, but I have no idea where to start.”

Acair realized Miach was pointing at him and wondered what in blazes he’d muttered before he thought better of it.

“Acair is a treasure trove of anything you would ever want to know, though I’m not sure you would want to wade through all his opinions to get to the facts.”

“But I imagine he knows most of the players, wouldn’t you say?” Léirsinn asked.

“Knows what the insides of their private solars look like, rather,” Miach said wryly, “but aye, I imagine he’s at least had a glass of wine with them before ransacking their treasures.”

“I am being maligned,” Acair managed. “I don’t rob everyone I meet. Your solar here has remained unmolested.”

Miach smiled. “There is that. Léirsinn, when you’ve the time for it, come stay with us for a bit. You’re welcome to take your choice of my private library.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Miach only laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere, as Acair could likely attest to. Now, I understand you were most recently in Angesand. What is Hearn breeding these days besides envy for his very fine steeds?”

Acair listened to them discuss horses and lines and prospects as he tried to sip Uachdaran of Léige’s most bitter brew. It was absolutely vile and he wasn’t sure it wasn’t going to dissolve his innards before he finished the glass, but he feared Miach might have a point. There might come a time when tossing back a cup of the vile bilge whilst coming up smacking his lips might be what saved his sorry arse.

He tried to distract himself by listening to the conversation going on in front of him, but it was difficult. If Miach were curious about the night’s events, he didn’t show it. If Léirsinn were suffering any lingering damage from her encounter with darkness, she didn’t mention it.

There were times social niceties were damned frustrating.

But he watched Léirsinn by the light of the fire just the same until his glass was empty, she was asleep, and his heart was utterly lost. He looked at the king of Neroche to find Miach watching him.

“What?” he asked crossly.

“Just enjoying your journey.”

“To where, might I ask?”

“If you don’t know, Acair, I have absolutely no hope to offer you.”

Acair shook his head. “A gentleman doesn’t discuss matters of the heart in front of the woman in question.”

“She’s asleep.”

“She could be pretending.” He set his glass on the mantel and looked at his brother-in-law—something he never thought to have, truth be told—purposefully. “I am, for lack of a better word, doomed.”

“Why?”

“Because that spell that hounds me wasn’t, I learned this morning, fashioned by Soilléir.”

Miach frowned thoughtfully. “Rùnach, then?”

“Nay, or so Soilléir claims.” He gestured inelegantly toward the woman—ah, hell. He gestured toward his lady, ignored the way even thinking such a thing rendered him off-balance, then looked at the king. “Did you see what—well, of course you saw. I have no idea what that patch of shadow did to her and I daren’t ask. All I know is I can’t do a damned thing about them and they’re starting to affect people I lo—er, I mean, people I am responsible for.”

Miach started to rise, then looked at him. “Do you mind if I have a look at your shadowy companion over there?”

“I would be most grateful, actually. It doesn’t seem to care for my peering into its innards, but you go right ahead.”

Miach smiled faintly. “A mystery. You should be enjoying this.”

“Ask me how I feel after the mystery is solved,” Acair said grimly, “something that would be far more easily accomplished with magic than without.”

“I agree,” Miach said, setting aside his cup. “Let’s see what we can.”