The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(73)

“Unfortunately.”

Sgath laughed softly. “I won’t rub your nose in it, son.”

“No need,” Acair said. “Soilléir’s done enough of that for the both of you.”

“I imagine he has. And look you there; our destination comes into view.” He nodded up the path. “Tiptoe if you can. Eulasaid isn’t particularly keen on the places I store my creations.”

“Eulasaid wishes only that you would stop crushing her rosebushes with them,” Eulasaid said, stepping out of nothing onto the path. “Let me take a turn with my grandson while you find a pair of mugs and an equal number of stools, then I’ll leave you to your ruminations.” Eulasaid linked arms with him. “Come along, darling, and we’ll leave your grandfather to his preparations. You know, Acair, you could have come to visit sooner.”

Ah, not more of that. He looked for aid but Sgath was pointedly ignoring him. Sgath did send a quick wink his way, then ambled off to apparently find the appropriate accoutrements for the night’s activities. Acair supposed he was doomed, but his father’s mother had rescued him from a dungeon earlier, so perhaps he owed her a bit of conversation.

“Thank you for the rescue and a delightful meal,” he said politely.

Eulasaid lifted her eyebrow briefly. “You have lovely manners.”

“I didn’t learn them at my mother’s table.”

“Ah, Fionne,” Eulasaid said with a smile. “She is a force unto herself.”

“With absolutely no sense of right and wrong.”

“Well, I suppose that could be debated endlessly without any useful conclusion being reached,” Eulasaid said. “She has very strong opinions, to be sure, and those opinions are her own. But you must admit she is loyal to a fault.”

“I think I disappoint her.”

“I think she senses that you’re conflicted in your heart.” Eulasaid looked up at him. “Good and evil are powerful forces, Acair. I suspect that no matter how much you want to choose the later, the former tugs at you.”

“Good?” he said, trying to put just the right amount of dismissiveness in his tone. He didn’t want to think about how soundly he’d failed. “Boring stuff, that. I choose evil every time.”

Eulasaid squeezed his arm. “You try, I’m sure,” she said easily. “I suspect you think about the consequences of each too much. If you could just press on without thought, you might manage to embrace darkness more fully.”

“Like my father?” He regretted the words the moment they left his lips, then realized what he was regretting and cursed himself for it. What did it matter to him if his father’s mother suffered grief over her son’s choices or was reminded of the same?

“See?” Eulasaid said with a faint smile.

He frowned fiercely. “I vow I don’t know where these annoying thoughts come from. I believe I’m not sleeping enough at present. It leaves me unable to embrace my true self.”

“I believe, love, that you’re just finding out who your true self might be.”

“With all due respect, Mistress Eulasaid—”

“Granny. You could call me Granny, if you liked. Or Grandmother.” She smiled at him. “What do you call your mother’s mother?”

“Nothing. We’re always too busy blurting out spells to ward off whatever evil minions she’s sent after us to manage any polite greetings. When we attempt to visit, that is.” He shrugged. “She isn’t much for family, I daresay.”

Eulasaid laughed. “I’m not at all surprised. I believe I’ve met those same minions myself. That and her trollish neighbors do give one pause.” She stopped and looked at him. “And here we are by the infamous and well-hidden keg of ale.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m happy you are here, Acair. Come more often.”

And with that, she started away.

“Mistress—er, Grandmother?”

She turned and smiled. “Aye, love?”

“Thank you again for the rescue this morning.”

“It was most definitely my pleasure, darling. Sleep well.”

He watched her go, completely bemused. He would have rubbed his cheek to see if she’d left a mark, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to. He walked over to where Sgath was pouring two substantial mugs of ale, sat down where instructed to, and looked at his father’s father in consternation.

“She does that,” Sgath said.

Acair blinked. “Who? What?”

“Eulasaid. She throws people off balance.”

“Is that what she did with me?”

Sgath handed him a mug. “I think with you she was just telling you that she loves you. She always has, truth be told, even when you were off combining terrible mischief. But she doesn’t like to interfere overmuch.”

“I can think of several people, one black mage in particular, who would say she did.”

“Ah, well, Lothar of Wychweald needed to be stopped and she was at hand.” He smiled. “She doesn’t like to take credit for it, even though the masters at Buidseachd do send her gifts each year on the anniversary of her having tossed Lothar out their front gates.”

Acair imagined they did. He sipped his ale, then looked at his grandfather in astonishment. “This is delicious.”