He supposed he might not mind if he did, so he finished what she had left, downed a mug of an undemanding and rather watery ale, then nodded. “Let’s be off.”
“Now?” she squeaked.
He smiled. “The sooner, the better. We’ll find what we need, I’ll nip back out your window, and we’ll be on our way before dawn.”
“Do you have a destination in mind?” she asked.
“Not herewas my first thought, but we’ll see what presents itself after we’ve seen what we were meant to find.”
He had thoughts about gingerly asking Léirsinn if she would be willing to retrace her steps back to her childhood home, but he wasn’t quite ready to bring that up. There was enough that lay in front of them already without adding anything more distressing to the evening.
He handed her back her satchel, watched her put his grandmother’s notes inside it, then made certain the window was closed. No sense in letting any riff-raff in whilst they were away.
He very studiously avoided putting himself in that class of rabble-rousers and continued on.
He paused by the door, then looked at her. “Would you mind taking a peek into the passageway, just in case?”
“Of course,” she said. She took a deep breath, then opened the door and looked out.
He decided he wouldn’t say anything about how carefully she did the same or where she might have learned the skill. Her uncle had many things to answer for. A wee nip in and out of Briàghde was definitely going on his list of things to see to later.
“Empty,” she whispered. “What now?”
“Library.”
She nodded and stepped back. He eased past her and slipped out into the passageway first, then waited for her to follow him and close the door softly behind them. He took a moment to get his bearings, then decided that he definitely should have insisted that Soilléir draw him some sort of map. He considered the lay of the land from the garden’s perspective and decided to go left, away from the kitchens. It would likely take them closer to Seannair’s throne room—such as it was—than they would enjoy, but there was nothing to be done about that.
He nodded, then turned and ran directly into a body that hadn’t been there a moment before.
A body belonging to none other than Astar of Inntrig, busybody extraordinaire. He supposed it could have been worse. He could have run into Annastashia.
“Give me one reason not to slay you where you stand,” Astar said in a low voice, “or, rather, turn my sister loose on you. I’m not sure which would be worse.”
“I think you know,” Acair said before he thought better of it.
“One reason,” Astar repeated evenly.
“Your cousin sent me.”
Astar uttered an epitaph better suited for a barn, which Acair thought best not to comment on. The lads in Inntrig could have used a bit more time in polite society, something he also decided might be better left unsaid.
“He’s telling the truth.”
Acair would have begged Léirsinn to leave him to his fate and save herself, but perhaps ’twas too late for that. She had already moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He supposed the trio was completed by that damned spell of death standing there with a bit of a slouch on her far side.
“Why don’t we go back inside and discuss this like civilized folk?” Léirsinn said calmly. “There might be wine left.”
Acair had definitely heard worse ideas. He also supposed that with a decent bit of luck, he might manage to render his foe unconscious, stuffhimin that damned armoire, then be about his business and away before he came to.
He wasn’t surprised when Léirsinn opened the door and Astar waited for him to follow her in. Perhaps the man had had the same idea when it came to his location for the rest of the night. He entered ahead of one of Seannair’s many progeny, then was somehow unsurprised when Astar simply stood there in the middle of the chamber instead of looking for a seat. There were many things that could have perhaps been said about that prince, but that he was casual about guarding his grandfather’s property was not one.
Astar looked at Léirsinn. “Who are you?”
“Fuadain of Sàraichte’s niece,” she said, “as I said.”
Acair cleared his throat. “And I am—”
“I know who you are!” Astar shot him a look of loathing, then turned back to Léirsinn. “Did he abscond with you?”
