The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(122)

She stroked Falaire’s mane for some time in silence, trying to decide what to say. How was it a woman with no magic moved about in a world with mages? What if she took the chance to follow Acair and he hadn’t just been leaving her behind out of a sense of chivalry? What if he simply wanted nothing to do with her and rushing off alone had been a convenient way to get that across without having to say it?

What if she had lost her mind somewhere along the journey from Sàraichte and she hadn’t noticed?

“Has he gone off to find the writer of that missive, do you think?” she asked casually.

“I daresay,” Miach said.

She met the king’s eyes. She wasn’t coming face-to-face with the might of his magic, as it were, but she found she could still see hints of it surrounding him. Hard to believe he was what he was, but she couldn’t deny it.

She shook her head, mostly to herself. The things that she had never before considered . . . it made her feel just exactly what she was: a rustic horsewoman from quite possibly the ugliest place in the Nine Kingdoms. If she’d had any sense, she would have taken her magical horse and run off to some equally rustic locale to hide—

Leaving her grandfather in Sàraichte, which she absolutely couldn’t do.

She sighed deeply. Life was so much easier in a barn.

She looked at Miach. “I’m honestly not sure I want to follow him.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I could escort you to Hearn’s instead, if you’d rather. That was what Acair was thinking, I imagine.”

“Was it?” she asked in surprise. “Did he lock me in my chamber to keep me from following him, do you think?”

Miach smiled faintly. “Aye, of course. He is, and I can scarce get the words past my teeth, trying to exercise a bit of chivalry. I’m not sure he knows how to do it very well, not having had to do anything like it in the past.”

“He’s never plied any chivalry on anyone?” she asked.

“Oh, he has very fine manners when it comes to being presentable at a state dinner,” Miach said, “but as for the other sort? I’m not sure he’s had much call for it.”

“Are you telling me that he’s trying to protect me?”

Miach looked at her with eyes she suspected saw far more than he would ever admit. “He is trying to protect you,” he agreed.

“And he told you this.”

“He told me several things very early this morning, most having to do with my either staying out of his way or going to hell. But amongst the rubble of his conversation, aye, there was a very pointed mention about what he preferred that I do for you.”

“And that was to send me to Angesand?” she asked.

“Or offer you shelter here, which we would have done just the same. Just until he’s finished with his business. Then I suppose you’ll need to decide where you go from there and if you care to have him along for that journey.”

She nodded. Regardless of the fact that she had her horse saddled, she had a decision to make about her future that couldn’t be put off any longer.

Sàraichte was closed to her, so that took that off her list. She could go to Angesand and ask Hearn for a place. She was good with a manure fork and perhaps in time she could work off whatever care she was certain Falaire was going to need, as well as put aside enough money to go rescue her grandfather.

Or she could stay at Tor Neroche and offer the stable master her services in the barn, then wring her hands until she knew if Acair had survived a quest he surely hadn’t asked for.

She reminded herself that it wasn’t as if he needed her aid with it. He had seen—and no doubt done—things she couldn’t imagine. He was a black mage; she was a red-haired, unsophisticated stable gel. He knew fancy manners; she knew how to look for thrush in her horses’ hooves. He could likely produce the proper titles for any nobleman without thinking; she could do nothing besides hope not to get horse droppings on their boots if those noblemen walked past her at an inopportune moment.

Besides, he had left her behind. Not only had he left her behind, he’d gone out of his way to keep her from following after him. He was leagues away, no doubt, well on his way to finding out things she was certain she wasn’t going to want to know. He would discover who had made those patches of shadow and see it dealt with. She would go . . . well, she couldn’t go home, but she would find somewhere else to go after she’d saved her grandfather, and she would enjoy a very ordinary, very mortal life.

The small silver dragon that lay against her heart seemed to grow warm. She put her hand over her tunic and was surprised to find that was indeed the case.

And as she had heard, dragons didn’t particularly care to stay at home and burn up their hay with their snores.

“You could head south,” Miach said slowly. “Toward Angesand.”

She made a decision. She realized it was a decision she had made long before the current moment, but perhaps that was something she could admit later. She looked at Miach. “Angesand is, I believe, the wrong direction.”

He smiled gravely. “I won’t stop you, of course, but I will say that I’m not sure this is the wisest course of action for you.”

“What else am I to do?” she asked seriously. “Let him go off into the darkness on his own? I know I don’t have any magic, but I can see those spots of shadow.”