The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(17)

Falaire snorted. Léirsinn reminded herself of all the reasons why she couldn’t sack the man standing in front of her, then held out the lead rope she was holding.

“See if you can come to an understanding with him. He’ll talk to the rest of the ponies about you, you know. I’d be worried about what he’d say.”

Acair looked at Falaire warily, then approached him hesitantly.

“He’ll bite you again if you do it that way.”

“Damn it, woman, then what am I to do? Tell him I will do a half-arsed job on his stall if he refrains from biting me?”

Léirsinn would have suggested that he might want to be mostly concerned that Falaire would kick the life from him, but she decided that was likely something she didn’t need to say. Besides, she was suddenly distracted by the sight of Acair facing off with her favorite horse. He drew himself up and sent Falaire a look that . . .

Well, it almost had her backing up a pace. She wouldn’t have said she was frightened, but she realized immediately that whatever else Acair from nowhere understood, he understood how to intimidate. Falaire, however, merely snorted at him, leaving him a small gift of drool on the shoulder of his tunic, then he stretched his neck and snuffled Acair’s hair.

Acair cursed, but didn’t move.

“First Horse,” Léirsinn said pointedly, “which you are most definitely not.”

“He’s trying to win me over.”

“Believe that if you like,” she said. She leaned against the wall as Acair led Falaire back into his quarters. Falaire had a look at his surroundings, then expressed his opinion on the work done in the form of a deposit upon fresh straw.

Acair looked at her in surprise. “Damn him to hell. Why’d he do that?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I think I won’t,” he said. He looked at the lead rope in his hand, then handed it to her. “He’s all yours.”

She would have happily made that so, but even if she could have afforded him, her uncle would have kept her from buying him out of spite. She’d watched him do it to souls he was far fonder of than he was of her. She took off Falaire’s bridle, promised him his supper in an hour, then shut him into the stall. She looked at Acair.

“Only twenty more to see to. Perhaps more. I lose count easily.”

“I imagine you don’t lose count of anything,” he said. He walked off, muttering something she didn’t understand.

Well, as long as he did what he was being paid to do with any success at all, she didn’t care what language he cursed her in.

She leaned against the wall and watched him work on the next stall. Falaire was hanging his head out his window, watching as well. Even horses needed their amusements, she supposed.

’Twas blindingly obvious that the man hadn’t a clue how to properly do barn work, which left her wondering why he’d sought work in a stable. She had to admit Doghail had judged his appearance aright at least. He was terribly beautiful in a rakish sort of way that she was certain had left more than one woman in a state of incapacitation. Fortunately, she was not swayed by a pretty face and there were still two dozen stalls left to see to before the day was over.

“Mistress Léirsinn?”

She turned to find one of the housemaids standing there. The girl looked so out of place in her starched uniform, Léirsinn had a hard time believing she wasn’t a specter of some kind.

“Aye?” she said carefully. “Is there something wrong?”

The girl looked around as if she expected someone to leap out of the shadows and fall upon her. Léirsinn nodded toward an empty passageway. The girl trailed after her, but Léirsinn could tell it wasn’t willingly done. She looked to make sure they were alone, then turned to the servant.

“What is it?”

“Your grandfather,” the girl whispered. “He looks poorly.”

The man is completely incapacitated, was almost out of her mouth before she realized the girl wasn’t a child fresh from her mother’s hearthfire. She obviously had the wit and age to judge things for herself.

“What do you mean, poorly?”

The girl shook her head sharply. “I don’t know and I daren’t speculate. I tend him, you see, and—” She looked around herself again. “Something’s amiss. More than the usual something.” She shifted uneasily. “There is danger in the house.”

Léirsinn was grateful for years of not reacting to even the worst piece of gossip. It was all that saved her from panicking at present. She nodded, because that made her feel in control.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll see to it.”

The girl looked at her, then bolted. Léirsinn took a moment or two to compose herself, then left the passageway. She could hear Acair cursing and Doghail laughing at him, so she supposed those two would keep themselves busy enough.

She walked through the aisles between stalls as casually as she could, though in reality she was so panicked she could hardly breathe. Her grandfather wasn’t well, that was true, but for someone from the house to actually venture into the barn to find her spoke volumes about the possible worsening of his condition.

She found herself starting for her uncle’s grand house before she knew that was where she intended to go. She wasn’t supposed to show her face there until the end of the month, but this was an emergency. She forced herself to walk when she would have preferred to run, then presented herself at the back kitchen door. She knocked and waited for what seemed to be an excessive amount of time before one of the under butlers opened the door. He looked down his long nose at her.