The time for that happy bit of retribution would surely come, but he had other things to see to first. It was tempting to breathe a little sigh of relief at how well things had gone so far, but he knew that could change very quickly.
So far, so good, though. They had survived the gauntlet at the outer gates of Seannair of Cothromaiche’s palace, such as it was, without incident. Being assigned an escort to lead them up the way to the palace proper had been expected as well. Léirsinn didn’t give herself enough credit for fine manners. The guard captain—a man Acair should have remembered, but didn’t—had fallen all over himself to assure her that she would be immediately settled in the best guestchamber available.
Acair understood. She was glorious in her incarnation as highly skilled horsewoman. She was nothing short of stunning whilst wearing the persona of high-born noblewoman.
He wondered sometimes just who she was.
On the other hand, he had absolutely no doubts about who he was and what he could do. Unfortunately, he had the feeling King Seannair didn’t either, and he might not be as enthusiastic about those skills as someone else. If he could simply slip in and out without seeing the king, his granddaughter Annastashia, or any number of other relatives who might want to stick a knife between his ribs and give it a friendly twist, he would count the visit a success.
He paused a deferential number of paces behind his lady as she was greeted by one of the palace butlers. Acair did recognize that man and thought he might be wise to keep his head down lest memories of a filched bottle of particularly fine port come to mind and trouble the man overmuch.
“My uncle is Fuadain of Briàghde. My servant and I need shelter for the night, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Acair admired her posh vowels and crisp consonants for a moment before he remembered who he was supposed to be. He nodded to her before she was led into a palace so rustic that it made Léige look like Chagailt by comparison and hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her.
He followed a stable lad along paths and to what turned out to be a rather decent set of stables. That he’d never noticed them before said much about his previous modes of transportation, he had to admit. He paid the stablemaster for Sianach’s keep, oversaw the stabling of his horse as though he actually knew what was supposed to happen, then happily left the more pedestrian work of shoveling and feeding to those whose business it was.
“You might beg a meal from the kitchen,” the stablemaster said, tossing the suggestion over his shoulder as he strode off to see to his equine business.
As tempting as that was, Acair thought he might be better served to skulk about in the back garden and wait for a light to come on in the vicinity of where he knew the guest chambers were located. At least he would know where Léirsinn would be sleeping. Getting inside the palace would be a different task entirely, but he’d certainly done that before. He found a shadowy spot under some trees, ignoring what the inclination for that suggested in relation to his quest, and waited.
Inntrig was a very odd place. Too quiet for his taste, and not just in the sense of having so little society to enjoy. The whole damned place was just soordinary. Trees were merely trees, flowers bloomed without any extra spells brightening up their blossoms, and benches simply sat there in the faint light of a waxing moon without offering any invitations to rest before he went off to look for a few spells to stick in his pockets.
Perhaps that said more about the spells likely tucked away in places no one wanted to talk about than he’d considered before. When a country produced magic of that sort, perhaps a little peace and quiet was the very least the rocks and rills could offer. He didn’t care for that sort of silence overmuch, but perhaps the locals enjoyed it.
He saw a light go on and had to remain where he was for a bit until his relief over the sight had passed. A chamber on the ground floor, no less. Perhaps that charmed life he’d enjoyed for so many decades was coming back for another go.
He looked around himself to make certain the garden was comfortably empty, then started for the palace. He kept to the darkest parts of the garden, though, until he found the window that had been opened. He indulged in a brief curse or two on principle alone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for the ease of slipping into a particular woman’s bedchamber, it was that he was appalled Seannair didn’t have better spells of ward guarding the same.
Or at least he hoped Seannair didn’t have spells of ward that he couldn’t see.
He stood under the window, suppressed the urge to offer up a romantic sentiment or two, and instead tossed Léirsinn his pack. He supposed it would be safer in her chambers than out in the barn, not that there was anything in it he particularly needed. He jumped to catch the edge of the windowsill, then helped himself up thanks to a few judiciously placed toes in the cracks of stone that definitely should have been attended to sooner.
That was exactly the reason he’d been very specific about the construction of his own abode. Admittedly, his house was all one level, but it was impervious to assault. He would definitely be patting himself on the back for that bit of foresight the first chance he had.
He swung his legs over the windowsill and hopped into Léirsinn’s chamber. He looked around and nodded approvingly.
“Lovely,” he said. “I think you should secure all our accommodations from here on out.”
She was staring at him in a way that made him suddenly—and surprisingly—nervous. He suppressed the urge to toss off a flowery comment about wallpaper and carpets and instead simply waited to see what she was about. Perhaps she had decided that a different life might—
“How old is the king’s granddaughter?”
Well, that was the last thing he’d expected. “I beg your pardon?” he hedged.
She only looked at him steadily.
“No idea,” he said without hesitation. “The gods only know what they do in this place to look so young, but I’m guessing ’tis untoward. She might be two score, she might be two hundred. I didn’t want to ask for fear of what she would do to me. Why?”
“No particular reason.”
If there were anything he’d learned about Léirsinn of Sàraichte, it was that she never did anything without a reason. He stood there and studied her for a moment or two, then it dawned on him what she was thinking. He walked over to her and stopped just short of putting his arms around her. He did reach out and take one of her hands.
“You know,” he said quietly, “absent extorting a spell from an essence-changing prince or elven king in order to live out very lengthy lives in bliss, which we discussed earlier, ’tis entirely possible that we might fall off a dragon one of these days and perish together.”
She looked at him and smiled faintly. “Is that meant to make me feel better?”
“Me, rather,” he said honestly, “because I’m finding the thought of a life without you in it to be rather intolerable.”
