The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(77)

He started to speak, then shook his head. “I’m not sure I am equal to it at the moment. When I’ve come up with something appropriately lyrical, I’ll let you know.” He paused. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course not. This is your grandparents’ library, after all.”

“And I’ve never once been in their home, so we’re on equal footing.”

She supposed he had a point there. She picked up a book she had been thinking to have a look at, found herself a chair by a window, and sat down to read. The only problem was that the words did nothing but swim in front of her, so she finally gave up and shut her book. It wasn’t as if she would have been able to concentrate anyway.

The dungeons of the palace of Ainneamh had been perhaps a less-than-comfortable place to think about anything but staying warm, but now that she had a hot fire and a decent seat, she had the time and comfort to consider all the things she hadn’t been able to before.

She was, from what a cursory glance at a map had told her, hundreds of leagues from Sàraichte. She had no money, no weapon, and no decent clothing save what she’d been given that morning. She had left behind her a defenseless grandfather, her life’s savings, and a nobleman who wanted her dead.

On the other hand, she did have a very valuable horse that she had flapped off with. She had no idea what else to call it, for the truth was she’d stolen the damned beast and would likely hang for that alone. But he was safely trotting about one of Sgath’s turnouts, changing his shape apparently for the pleasure of it.

She also had a new vision of the world. She had an even clearer vision of things the world contained that she wouldn’t have considered anything but fable not a fortnight earlier. If that hadn’t been enough, she now knew that food could be made to taste good, something she had hardly dared hope for previously.

Finally, she was looking at a man who had apparently tried to steal the world’s magic. That had seemingly been the culmination of a lifetime of naughtiness he had perpetrated, reputedly simply because he could.

She sat back in her chair and studied him as he prowled restlessly through the library, picking up this book or that, opening it, then closing it and putting it back. That was a point in his favor. He could have just dropped the tomes on the floor.

She moved onto other things. Calling him handsome didn’t begin to do him justice. Now that she saw him in the proper setting, she realized just how much like the grandson of a prince he looked. He was dressed all in black, but she supposed that allowed him to engage in nefarious deeds more easily. He was a tall, well-fashioned, extremely handsome man she would have accepted any number of invitations from and counted herself very fortunate indeed.

She realized with another start that he was leaning back against a bookcase, watching her.

“What?” she asked in surprise.

“I didn’t want to obscure your view of the books I’m standing in front of.”

She realized what he was saying and scowled at him. “I wasn’t looking at books.”

“Stop,” he said, putting his hand over his heart. “I’ll blush soon.”

“I wasn’t looking at you either.”

He tsk-tsked her. “That lying,” he said, shaking his head. “A terrible habit to start. Besides, you’re not very good at it.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

She set her book on the table and looked at him seriously. “I’ve been thinking.”

He only waited. Her uncle would have made some insulting comment about the effort being too much for her, but apparently in spite of all his flaws, Acair of Ceangail was not that sort of man.

“Let me see if I understand the situation,” she said slowly. “I am hundreds of leagues—”

“Perhaps not that far,” he interrupted.

“A fair distance from my home, then—”

“Where they were plotting to kill you, remember,” he reminded her.

She looked at him in exasperation. “You have a horrible habit of interrupting.”

“No patience,” he admitted. “There’s little point in suffering a lesser mage to go on and on about ridiculous things when you know you’re going to destroy him in the end, is there?”

She felt her mouth fall open and couldn’t stop herself. “You destroyed mages?”

“Humiliated,” he corrected, then he paused. “I may have left a few begging on the streets as well. My memory fails me.”

“I imagine your memory doesn’t fail you at all. How is it that someone so impossibly handsome and charming can be such an utter ass?”

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “my mother has often said the same thing to me. It is a mystery I have often wished to solve, but alas, no time yet.” He smiled. “Impossibly handsome?”

“I misspoke,” she said. She suspected the last thing he needed was anything else to feed his enormous ego. “Let’s discuss your flaws instead.”

He sighed lightly. “I am an evil man, as I said, which has earned me a world full of enemies.”

“A whole world?” she asked.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Heaven forbid. But go ahead and make me a list.”

“Shall I begin with the kings of nations, their powerful ambassadors, or just the pedestrian landholders? Or shall I go right to the terrible black mages who would happily see me dead?”