The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(125)

“And what,” he said, grasping at the first thing to come to mind, “if the man—let’s be serious here, woman, and speak of men, not lads—what if the man is more comfortable with dragons than horses?”

She sipped at her ale. “An interesting change of pace, I suppose.”

“If you were interested in a man.”

“Which I’m not.”

“Well, I’m not interested in a woman, so I suppose that makes us equal in that regard.”

She nodded, then her expression of fierceness faded. “I am rather frightened by this whole idea,” she said quietly. “Magic and shadows and not having any way to fight either.”

He understood completely. “Why did you come, then? Well, apart from no doubt being overcome by the desire to spend copious amounts of time gazing upon my admittedly spectacular visage.”

She smiled faintly. “You are impossible.”

“And you’re impossibly beautiful,” he said honestly. “Not brittle and beastly enough to suit me, of course, but very easy to look upon.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“I think so,” he said. He paused. “Does it need work?”

“Copious amounts,” she said dryly.

“I’ll work on it later.” He sipped his ale. “So, in truth, what sent you scampering after me before I could scamper away?”

“When you say scamper, do you mean sit here until Léirsinn comes after me,” she said slowly, “or something else?”

He pursed his lips. “We’ll discuss that later, perhaps.”

She considered, then pulled a necklace out from under her tunic. She held it out slightly and looked down as the firelight danced against the form of a dragon.

“That is interesting,” he said thoughtfully. “Where did you come by it?”

“Your great-aunt Cailleach gave it to me several years ago.”

He blinked. “She did? Has it magical properties?”

“I don’t think so.” She looked at him. “’Tis a bit like me, I suppose.”

“I have enough for the both of us, I daresay.”

“Magic you can’t use.”

“A temporary condition, I assure you.” He had another sip of ale. “And the answer to my question?”

She looked at him very seriously. “I didn’t want you to go without me.”

He finished his ale because it was either that or break down and weep, hard-hearted bastard that he was. He made a production of complaining about the smoke in the room as well, because that seemed prudent. And once he’d gotten himself and his traitorous heart under control, he looked at his companion. “Let’s go, fire-breather.”

“Are you buying?”

“As if I would allow a woman to pay for my ale,” he said, tossing coins on the table and taking her hand. “I’ll teach you to play cards if we have the odd moment where we aren’t being chased by mages with our deaths on their minds. I daresay you would be very good at fleecing lads who might find themselves completely overcome by the color of your hair. Then you can pay for us both.”

She only sighed and walked with him. He hazarded a look, though, and found that she was smiling a bit.

The heavens were no doubt weeping over how far lost he was.

He paused on the front stoop of that very seedy pub and looked across the courtyard. He would have gaped, but he was too tired to. “Is that Mansourah of Neroche over there, guarding my horse?” he said grimly.

“It seems to be.”

“So, you’re taking up with him, now?”

She elbowed him rather sharply in the ribs. “I’m not taking up with anyone. He found me and volunteered to escort me to find you so I could guard your back. He suggested I do that because he thought your defense skills were lacking. He offered to come along on our quest and aid you in bettering them.”

“I am utterly unsurprised.” And he was. If there existed a family disagreement, political conundrum, or blossoming romance that Mansourah of Neroche could ruin by inserting himself into, he did. He walked with his lady across the way and stopped a handful of paces away from the man he had the feeling he was going to do damage to very soon. “Your Highness,” he said stiffly.

“Bastard.”

“I have a very long memory,” Acair warned, “and no liking for insults. Never mind that I am a bastard and a bastard, if you appreciate the distinction.”

Mansourah snorted. “I do and I have no fear of you given that you apparently have no ability to use your puny powers.”

“That won’t last forever.”

Mansourah shrugged. “One can hope you’ll meet your end before that time.”

“Planning on helping whoever attempts to send me off to Hell?”

“I thought I might.”

Acair looked at him narrowly. “Mhorghain asked you to come along, didn’t she?”

“You’re stupid, but I’m surprised to find you’re fairly bright.”

Acair wondered if he should send along a note to his sister thanking her or cursing her. “Did Mhorghain also tell you what we’re about?”

“She thought I might like to hear the tale from our charming lady here.”