Acair spared a moment to wonder when he was going to manage to exit a solar without running afoul of its owner.
He shook his head wearily. Yet another thing to add to the list of things to avoid in the future. No more quests, no more flinging his possessions up in the air when taken by surprise, no more unexpected revelations about the people around him, and definitely no more lights springing to life thanks to the current landlord’s hand.
He realized Léirsinn had been invited to sit. He hadn’t, but he hadn’t expected anything less. Prince Coimheadair, for all his slightly odd quirks, was in the end a king in waiting. Other men simply did not sit in his presence. Acair was perfectly happy to stand behind Léirsinn’s chair and look deferential whilst he determined when and how they might escape with not only their lives, but the books they had filched still in their possession.
Slaidear.
He could scarce believe it. Why the hell hadn’t he seen that coming his way?
He watched Léirsinn hand over the spoils and wondered if he should just give the quest up for lost right there or plead for another hour or so to mourn the saving of the world that might not happen.
He realized the prince was giving him a look that he had absolutely no trouble interpreting. His chances of avoiding death by some painful Cothromaichian method were very slim indeed.
The prince looked at the book of faery tales, then at Léirsinn.
“My child,” he said slowly, “why this?”
She was sitting with her back ramrod straight, her hands demurely folded in her lap. Acair would have shifted slightly to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he suspected she wouldn’t need it.
She was a wonder, that lass.
“The book is mine,” she said.
“How did it come to be in our library?”
“A very good question, Your Highness,” she said politely. “I believe I would count it a fortunate rescue, nothing more.”
Acair would have laughed, but he caught the tail-end of another cool look sent his way by his primary tormenter’s father. What he wouldn’t have given to have had Soilléir right there where he could have given the whoreson a wee shove into his papa’s comforting arms, then caught his horse gel’s hand and bolted from the library at a dead run.
The prince handed it back to her. “I will discover why it was unfortunately no longer in your possession and see that the miscreant is punished. Until that time, accept my apologies for the apparent theft.”
“Oh,” Léirsinn said, sitting back the slightest bit. “Very generous, Your Highness, but I’m sure it was nothing more than a happy accident that it found its way here. Please don’t make a fuss on my account.”
“My dear, I couldn’t think to do less. Your mother was a frequent guest here before your brother was born and I bought many a horse from your father. I met him several years before they wed, of course.”
Acair supposed no one would notice if he simply leaned a bit on Léirsinn’s chair to keep himself from pitching forward over the back of it onto her lap.
Her mother? Her father?
“I’m surprised,” Léirsinn said faintly.
Acair thoughtgobsmackedwas perhaps a better word, but he didn’t imagine anyone would care what was running through his head.
“Why is that, my dear?”
“Well,” Léirsinn said slowly, “I didn’t realize he had traveled so far north of Briàghde before he wed my mother.”
“Oh, I was speaking of your father,” Coimheadair said with a fluttering of the fingers of one hand, “not your step-father.”
A book landed on the floor. Acair reached around to pick up the faery tale book that had slid off Léirsinn’s lap, then caught the prince’s eye and sent him a pointed look. The prince nodded for Acair to sit, so he pulled over a fireplace stool—no sense in not keeping up the appearance of respect—and sat down next to Léirsinn.
“I believe I’ve stepped in it now,” Prince Coimheadair said, looking genuinely distressed. “Did you not know, child? Lord Acair, what of you?”
“Hadn’t the foggiest,” Acair said, too rattled to pull out his best courtly manners and give them a snap to rid them of any residual wrinkles. “Would Your Highness permit me the familiarity of taking my lady’s hand?”
Coimheadair waved him on, then turned back to Léirsinn. “I won’t add to your discomfort, Mistress Léirsinn, for I can see these tidings come as a surprise. I suppose they would, given how young you were when your sire was slain. Oh, and there I go again, speaking out of turn.”
Acair would have shaken his head, but that wouldn’t have done. A few things became clear to him, however, that hadn’t before. Seannair seemed to be clinging rather firmly to the crown he never wore, which Acair had always credited to the stubbornness of a crotchety old bastard who simply hadn’t hunted enough pheasants over the centuries and was determined to live long enough to fill his tally and then some.
