The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(45)

“Don’t worry about him,” Acair said dismissively. “He’ll be fine.”

She could scarce believe her ears. “You’re daft,” she managed. “They’ll kill him as well!”

“Killing your grandfather is the last thing Fuadain will do,” he said seriously.

“But why would they keep him alive if they were willing to kill me?”

“Leverage,” he said. “They believe you know too much about things you apparently shouldn’t, which is why they want you dead. If you flee, they’ll want you to come back here so they can, again, see you dead.” He shrugged. “Leverage.”

She felt something slide down her spine. “How would you possibly know that? Are you in league—”

He shook his head sharply. “I don’t know your uncle, but I know his type very well.”

“But I can’t leave my grandfather,” she said firmly. “I have a responsibility to keep him safe.”

“At this point, neither of us can keep him safe here,” he said. “We definitely cannot bring him with us.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He looked around him, as if he feared something might be listening, then he took her by the arms. “I can save him, but not at the moment. I definitely can’t save him if I’m dead. You can’t save him if you’re dead either. Hence our need for saving our own sweet necks first.”

“You’re speaking in riddles.”

“I know,” he said grimly, “and it’s giving me pains in my head.” He blew out his breath. “I am almost an entire bloody year away from being free of a charge laid on me. Once that sentence is served, I can return and see to your grandfather.”

“Sentence?” She looked at him narrowly. “You’ve escaped from some sort of gaol, haven’t you?”

“I would say I’d walked right into one, but you can think of it however you care to. As for your grandfather, if you can trust me, I can help you. But I can’t help either of us if we’re dead, which is why we need to escape Briàghde before your uncle realizes we’ve left.”

“Who are you?” she asked. “More to the point, why do I keep asking?”

He smiled. She had to admit that he was terribly handsome when he frowned, but when he smiled . . .

She shook her head to clear it. Perhaps there was magic after all and she’d been put under some horrible spell that was attempting to lead her away from her very sensible existence where the only sort of males she had to encounter had four feet instead of two. The current one walking on two looked around him, then leaned closer as if he had some terrible secret to share.

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” he whispered, “but I think I might be allowed this much.” He paused. “The truth is, I am a mage.”

She blinked, then smiled. “Of course you are.”

“You don’t believe me?” he asked in surprise.

“Of course I don’t believe you,” she said with a snort. “Magic? Are you utterly mad? I think what you’re suffering from is an enormous ego and delusions of grandeur, but perhaps that’s too blunt.”

“I deserve this,” he muttered. “And somewhere, someone is having himself a jolly good laugh over it all.” He looked at her. “Believe me or don’t, at this point it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we get away from this place as quickly as possible.”

She stopped just short of wringing her hands. “But how do I leave him behind?” she whispered. “He’s helpless.”

Acair chewed on his words until he seemingly found ones he could spew out. “How long had his illness been coming on?”

“I can’t say with certainty,” she said slowly. “He took care of me the night I arrived and seemed perfectly sound. The next night he was in his current state.”

“And what happened to you when he had this sudden decline?”

“I was sent to the stables.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then put his arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the pile of timbers. “I didn’t have a very good look at him, but I’m guessing the cause of his illness wasn’t natural, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m ignoring that because it’s ridiculous.”

“All the more reason to have a bit of faith in it,” he said firmly. “And if this makes you feel any better, I think the more notice you take off him and put on to yourself, the better off he will be. Fleeing Sàraichte is a fine way to do it.”

She didn’t want to agree that might be true, but she could see the sense in it. She considered, then looked at him. “Where are we going to run to?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I don’t have very many safe harbors.”

The poor man. “Because you’re a mage,” she said slowly.

“A bad one.”

“As in, you don’t mage very well or you do it too well and people don’t like you for it?”

He shot her a dark look. “You aren’t taking me at all seriously, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“What of those lads you slew in the barn?”

“Oh, those,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think. I could have been imagining them.”