The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(61)

“Heal the horse your men tried to slay,” he said in a low voice, “and I will stand here and take whatever abuse you care to heap upon me.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Acair agreed. He had to swallow not only his pride but his gorge. “Please.”

Ehrne looked at him for so long in silence, Acair wondered if the man had died from surprise or merely from the memories of all the misery he had inflicted on those around him. Acair honestly wouldn’t have been surprised by either.

Then Ehrne walked over to Falaire. If nothing else, the elf had a soft spot for horses. He knelt down and put his hand on Falaire’s forehead. He stroked the horse gently, then looked at Léirsinn.

“Yours?”

“My uncle sold him to Droch of Saothair,” she said bluntly, “and we stole him. So, not mine by exchange of funds, but mine by affection.”

Ehrne looked over his shoulder. “Who shot this beast?”

One of the guardsmen suddenly found himself standing in front of his fellows who had immediately taken a pair of steps back.

“Surdail, strip him of his privileges and set him outside the border.” He turned back to Falaire, put his hand on the beast’s neck, then closed his eyes.

Acair didn’t hear the words spoken, but since the result was all that concerned him, he was happy enough when Falaire leapt to his feet and whinnied at the king of their current and quite unfortunate locale.

“Well,” Ehrne said huffily, heaving himself to his own feet, “I’m not the one who shot you and I disciplined that lad well enough. You may leave off with your snorts. Surdail, have him fed and tended. Now, tell me again who you are, girl?”

Acair watched Léirsinn scramble up to stand next to her horse, gaping at the king as she did so. He wondered if he dared intervene or if that would simply make matters worse.

“I’m no one,” Léirsinn said, sounding stunned, “but thank you for, ah . . . whatever it was you just did.”

“What we call it here, you rustic miss, is magic. Have you learned nothing from that reprobate you’re obviously keeping company with? You also, if it hasn’t escaped your notice, own a shapechanging horse.”

“I didn’t know he could do that,” she said. “And if you’d told me a fortnight ago that he could, I would have called you a liar. I don’t believe in magic.”

“You know Acair of Ceangail well enough to travel with him yet you don’t believe in—” He stopped suddenly, then frowned. “There’s something here I’m missing.”

“And here we go,” Acair muttered under his breath. If he allowed the king to put even a single foot to that path, they would be standing there for a fortnight, listening to him blather on.

He wasn’t above using whatever connection he had with the elves in question in order to get himself and Léirsinn out of Ainneamh before Ehrne heard more than he needed to, so he turned his best smile on the king.

“Cousin,” he said pleasantly.

Ehrne wasn’t one for family, something Acair knew but had hoped he might successfully ignore. The king pointed a finger at him.

“Do not call me that,” he said haughtily, “you piece of filth. How dare you imply that we have any connection.”

“My father is your uncle’s son—”

“And you are your father’s bastard son,” Ehrne thundered. “Which makes that woman there—” He paused and looked at Léirsinn. “Who are you again?”

“No one,” Léirsinn said. “No one at all.” She took a step closer to Falaire. “Just a stable hand.”

Ehrne frowned at her, then went to stand next to his captain. “Surdail, there is something going on here that escapes me and, as you know, nothing escapes me. I must give this more thought.”

“Wise, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty?” Léirsinn echoed. “Are you a king?”

Ehrne started to splutter. Acair would have enjoyed that, but he was in too much of a hurry for it. That, and he’d traded his pride for Falaire’s life. That payment had yet to be exacted, but he thought it might be a bit more bearable if Ehrne didn’t have too many details beforehand. Too much chit-chat and the king would find out all sorts of things he didn’t need to know.

“She means nothing by it,” Acair said quickly. “She’s been sheltered the whole of her life in the country. Elves are nothing more than marvelous creatures from myth to her. You can safely assume you’re in your rightful place in the heavens in her eyes.”

“But she knows who you are,” Ehrne said, “and therefore what you are . . . or does she? And whilst we’re about these mysteries, why didn’t you heal that horse yourself?”

Acair would have given much to have had any sort of tale to tell other than the truth. The laughter at his expense would be unpleasant, but he had the feeling things would go further south very rapidly once Ehrne realized just how powerless he was to repay that laughter—or anything else, for that matter.

He didn’t hear Léirsinn come up to him, but he felt her suddenly standing next to him. He looked at her.

“You may not want to stand too close.”

“Heal Falaire?” she asked. “What does he mean you should have healed him yourself?”