The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(119)

“Then this is not a spell of Soilléir’s.”

Miach shook his head slowly. “Not one I know.”

Acair sat. He supposed he was fortunate that there was a chair beneath his arse and supposed it had been Miach to shove it there. He looked at the paper in his hands—his trembling hands, it had to be said—and thought things he didn’t care for.

Soilléir’s spell of un-noticing had been odd, hadn’t it? And Soilléir had denied having fashioned the spell now looking over his shoulder at the sheaf barely in his hands, hadn’t he?

Had the man gone mad?

Or had someone else nipped into Seannair of Cothromaiche’s library and had a look in spell books that obviously needed better locks on them?

He folded the sheaf of parchment back into quarters and tucked it inside a pocket. He rose, brushed off his jacket, and looked at Miach.

“My most heartfelt thanks for the safe haven and that vile ale. Both have been very enjoyable.”

Miach only looked at him with eyes that saw far too much. “Off hunting, are we?”

“Hunting what?” Acair scoffed. “The scribbler of that note and the maker of that spell? I wouldn’t stir myself to even entertain the thought. Nay, I think I’ll pop around to some of my old haunts and see what’s on the fire. One must keep up social calls, you know.”

Miach didn’t move. “If you need aid,” he said very quietly, “send word.”

“You’re a capital fellow,” Acair said. He smiled pleasantly. “I’ll rouse our horse miss over there, then I believe I should perhaps be on my way. If you wouldn’t mind giving her an escort to wherever she wants to go? I believe she would be safer very far away from me.”

“As you will, of course,” Miach said, nodding.

Acair nodded in return, woke a woman who he supposed was accustomed to not having the chance to rub the sleep from her eyes before she needed to be about her business, then left the king’s solar. That was preferable to plopping himself down on Miach’s lap and begging the king to spot him a spell or two to keep him from being slain until he could solve his own tangle.

“I didn’t mean to sleep,” Léirsinn said.

“It was likely better that way,” Acair said. “Long night and all that.”

She said nothing else, which he considered a mercy. If he’d looked at him with those knowing green eyes of hers, he likely would have broken down and spewed out everything he knew before he could stop himself.

He walked her to her door, made her a low bow, then pulled the door shut once she’d gone inside. If he’d bid her goodnight, he honestly didn’t remember it. He did come back to himself in time to realize he was facing Mansourah of Neroche and the man wasn’t smiling. At least it wasn’t Prince Rigaud.

Mansourah looked down his nose at him. “I believe I could have escorted her to her chamber.”

Acair smiled pleasantly. “And I believe that if you don’t leave her be, I will kill you.”

“You forget I have magic as well.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Mansourah looked primed to say something nasty, then suddenly sighed instead. “I find my heart is lost.”

“I believe they breed excellent hounds in Darbyford,” Acair said. “Hire a couple of those pups and put them on the scent. And stay away from Léirsinn.”

“You flatter yourself if you think she wants you.”

“What I can tell you is that she wouldn’t want you.”

“Don’t you think she should have that choice?”

Acair spluttered. “You’ve known her less than a day. ’Tisn’t possible to fall in love in that short a time.”

“How long did it take you?”

Acair started to speak, then decided that didn’t merit an answer. He glared at Miach’s older brother. “I’m finished with this conversation.”

“And with that spectacular woman as well, one could hope.”

Acair glared at the man, then turned away. Aye, Mansourah had it aright. He needed to be finished because he couldn’t ask her to go where he suspected he was going to need to go. He had no means of keeping her safe. He didn’t even have a bloody sword to hoist in her defense.

All he had was his wits, various caches of gold scattered all over the Nine Kingdoms, and a nose for sniffing out unpleasant spells. He had the feeling the sooner he got to using all three, the better.

He shut himself inside his own chamber, ignoring the fact that nothing but a wall separated him from the woman he lo—er, the woman he was somewhat fond of. If he went and pressed his hand against that wall to be closer to her, well, there wasn’t a damned person who was watching him, which meant he could make as great an ass of himself as he liked.

He was going to have to somehow lock her into her chamber by rather normal means, then be on his way before she woke in the morning. If he didn’t, she would follow him, and then where would he be?

He stood there with his hand pressed against that damask-covered wall for a very long time indeed.

? ? ?

He walked out the front gates of the palace at dawn only to find his sister standing there, waiting for him. He shot her a warning look.

“You’re not coming with me.”

She shook her head. “I hadn’t planned on it. Just thought I should send you off with your horse and a little rucksack of food.” She shrugged. “I might have raided Rigaud’s closet for clothes and his desk drawer for a few coins. I forget now exactly what it was.”