Léirsinn ended the conversation far more politely than he would have, then shut the door. She looked at him.
“Soilléir’s cousin?”
“Aye, and Annastashia’s brother,” he said sourly.
“The granddaughter you tried to seduce?”
“As always,triedis the word you should concentrate on,” he said with a shiver. “If the world tallied up the reprehensible things I’d onlytriedto do, I daresay my reputation would be as sterling as Mochriadhemiach of Neroche’s. Well, perhaps not his, and why are we having this conversation?”
“Because you’re charming when you’re startled and even more charming when you’re flustered.”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her so she wouldn’t see him indulging in a discreet blush. “I am not flustered. I’m appalled by your lack of proper respect for all the terrible things I’ve actuallysucceededin doing, but we’ll discuss that later after we’ve survived that fool likely wanting to come inside with your tray and hover over you whilst you try to choke down what Seannair’s cook can produce. I can guarantee you it will involve wild game and inedible veg. I’ll need to find somewhere to sit that out.”
“There is an armoire over there.”
“Aye, fit for a child, which I am not, but I suppose there’s no other choice. Tuck me in, darling, and I’ll wait out supper. Don’t save me anything. I’ll just lift a pair of those dry, unappetizing biscuits and try not to crunch in my closet.”
She only laughed at him, which he thought was slightly unkind given the straitness of where he was going to be trapped during what he hoped would not be a long meal. She did do him the favor of rearranging the items provided in that armoire for a guest’s comfort. If those were limited to frilly, feminine things that left him swathed in colors he wouldn’t have worn if death had loomed, well, at least he was providing some amusement for her.
He decided that until the doors were closed, he would have another look at his gran’s notes to once again see if there was anything he’d missed. If he found himself joined by a gel who perched uncomfortably atop several pairs of silk slippers to keep him company, he wasn’t going to complain.
He read until he realized she wasn’t reading with him, she was watching him. He used his finger as a bookmark, closed the notebook, then leaned over and kissed her. It was becoming a very bad habit, that business there.
“I’m going to look mussed,” she said.
“All part of the plan, darling.”
She pulled away and smiled at him. “You are absolutely incorrigible. I’m assuming you’ve run afoul of that man threatening to feed me?”
“Unfortunately,” he agreed. “He has terrible manners, but I’ll allow that he’s quite a bit cannier than he looks. He also has a cache of spells I wouldn’t mind rifling through, but I’ve never managed to find him napping, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” she said. “Essence changing?”
“They would never trust him with those,” Acair said with a snort, “but he’s unearthed some other darkly interesting things. I’m guessing he found those whilst nosing about in the corners of the cellar where his cousin is too fastidious to go.”
He supposed he didn’t need to add that Soilléir had likely gone places he himself might hesitate to consider, but he wasn’t in the mood to credit that overly wholesome worker of spells he desperately wanted with anything good.
“Why did your granny draw those bees?”
He looked at the pair of fuzzy fiends lingering on the edge of the map, then shrugged. “She hopes I’ll kick over a large hive of the same? One of my mother’s sisters, Fiunne, I believe, claims Fearann as her home. I imagine that in addition to keeping bees and making lace, she spends copious amounts of time trying to pretend that her land isn’t simply an island in the larger sea of Fàs as a whole.”
“Is it on your list of places not to go?”
“Absolutely, mostly because of the catastrophically boring nature of what they do there. If they use any essence meddling, I’m sure ’tis only to keep the bees immobile whilst they go about the dastardly work of stealing their honey. At this point, nothing would surprise me when it comes to my grandmother. And there, poor gel, is your supper at the door.”
She pushed herself out of the closet. “I’ll make this brief.”
“Your tum will thank you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “I’ll save you some.”
He supposed he made some remark that sounded more like a plea for mercy than anything saucier, but the closet door had already been shut. He tried not to give into despair. If the smell of supper didn’t fell him, having to listen to Astar make small talk likely would.
’Twas obvious, though, that Léirsinn had had a great deal of practice in politely hurrying along lords who might have wanted to linger. Acair found himself with hardly a cramp in his thighs thanks to having his knees drawn up to his chin before Léirsinn was opening the door and freeing him from his prison. He paused, then sniffed.
“I’ve smelled worse,” he allowed.
“So have I,” she agreed. “Help yourself.”
