The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(54)

She looked at him then. “And you’ve spent enough time in polite salons to know?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You continue to think of me as a country mouse.”

“I don’t know any city rats. You’re the best I can do.”

He smiled. When he smiled, she had to admit, she wanted to sit down. The truth was, she could see him in any number of very polite salons, surrounded by very polite misses who had likewise decided they could admire him more easily if they were sitting down instead of falling at his feet in an artful swoon.

“Let’s just say that that man is one you don’t want to encounter in a darkened alleyway. If you ever do meet him, feign death.”

She had the feeling she wouldn’t have wanted to meet that man anywhere, which led her to thinking that she would be far better off going back to Sàraichte. Perhaps her uncle could be placated so he didn’t want to murder her any longer. In time, she might even learn not to feel pain when she walked past Falaire’s empty stall . . .

Acair straightened. “He’s gone and so should we be, and quickly.”

“I don’t like scurrying from place to place,” she said.

“I agree, actually, but things are what they are at the moment.” He pulled her up to her feet. “I need a place to think.”

“The inn?”

“We can’t go back there.”

“But our gear—”

“What we had will be gone. Remember those lads we saw in the gathering room?”

“Aye, unfortunately.”

“Droch’s spies,” Acair said shortly. “They’ll have ransacked our chamber by now, looking for anything useful to identify us.”

“Why do they care?” she asked, then she realized quite suddenly what the lay of the land was in truth. She looked at Acair. “That man, Droch. He wants you, doesn’t he?”

He shrugged. “He’s not fond of me. If he had the chance to do me an ill turn, he would take it simply out of spite, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to hunt me down. But if he can harm you in the bargain, he would do it because he’s that sort of man.”

“I don’t think I like this place,” she managed.

“Very wise,” he said. “Let’s go see about your horse, then we’ll find a place to hole up for a bit. I think I’m finished with crouching behind piles of rubbish.”

She had to agree that a bit of fresh air would be very welcome and she quite happily left that pile of rotting veg behind and walked quickly with Acair, trusting he would be able to find her horse.

The truth was, whilst she would happily look at Falaire, she had no idea what she would do about him when she saw him. The thought of him going to a man like that Master Droch was almost more than she could take.

She turned away from the thought because there was nothing she could do about it short of stealing her horse and then what would she do? She couldn’t feed herself, much less a stallion. And it wasn’t as if she could steal him, then ride him back to Sàraichte. She didn’t want to admit it, but the place was a hellhole and she had a relative there who apparently wanted her dead. She could only imagine his fury if she arrived at the barn with a horse he’d sold and she had subsequently filched. The whole situation was untenable—

She realized quite suddenly that she had run into Acair’s arm and he had jerked her behind him. She almost went stumbling into the side of a very derelict building as a result, but when she looked over his shoulder, she decided abruptly that that might have been preferable to what she was facing—or not facing—at the moment.

Master Droch stood there. He had simply materialized out of thin air, which she knew was impossible. It should have been impossible, yet there he was.

Impossible, but undeniable.

“I heard that you were in town,” Droch said in a voice that was so polite as to leave ice hanging in the air as an accompaniment. “I am surprised you haven’t yet come to pay a call on me.”

“Oh, so many things to do, my lord,” Acair said in much the same tone. “One has regrets, of course, but circumstances ofttimes override social niceties.”

Droch stepped closer. “You little whoreson,” he hissed. “If you think I’ll overlook your last visit to my private apartments, you’re as foolish as your sire.”

“I vow I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Léirsinn realized Droch had moved to where he could see her and she hadn’t been paying enough attention to avoid it.

“Ah, who is this?” Droch purred.

“No one,” Acair said briskly. “A whore. You don’t want her.”

Léirsinn would have protested, but she had the distinct feeling that the less she said, the better off she would be. She slid behind Acair, which she knew was becoming a bad habit, but he was tall and unafraid and made an extremely handy shield.

“That one is far too pretty to be a whore,” Droch said. “I wonder what she is to you?”

“Again, nothing,” Acair said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my lord, we’ll be on our way. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your important business of making the world a better place.”

“Scamper off now, if you like,” Droch said dismissively. “I won’t lower myself to brawl in the street with someone of your ilk. But you will pay, Acair, and dearly for your cheek. And if you think I don’t have the stomach or the power to see you repaid properly, think again.”