by Lynn Kurland
She turned, closed her eyes and stepped out into nothingness—
Léirsinn woke abruptly and wondered if she’d been screaming. She shifted and deeply regretted it, for even that small movement sent a thrill of fever rushing through her. She felt as if her insides had been pulled out of her, tossed up into a whirlwind, then put back into her in the most painful way possible.
She had no one to blame for it but herself, of course, for she had been the one to make that desperate request to have magic so she might protect a man who had been tasked with saving the world from evil. She suspected, though, that the next time she was faced with the choice between traveling across the wilds of the Nine Kingdoms with a mage and becoming caught up in his madness or marching straight into the jaws of Hell with only herself for company, she was going to put on a pair of decent boots and start walking.
She lay still for another moment or two, then began to wonder if that choice had already been made for her. She didn’t hear the shrieking of the damned, those poor souls who reputedly inhabited those fiery regions below the world, but her entire form felt as if she’d been standing too close to a Hellish bonfire. Even her eyes felt singed.
There was also an annoying buzzing that seemed to come and go in her ears and a smell that rivaled anything she’d encountered in the worst parts of the port town of Tosan.
She carefully moved her fingers against whatever she was lying on. She was more relieved than she wanted to admit to find the softness of a bed and not the rough stone of a dungeon floor. With any luck, her door would be unlocked and she would manage to free a certain lad of her acquaintance who was languishing in the dungeon, then escape with him before the dwarf king was the wiser. The sooner she was seeing to that, the better for them both.
She opened her eyes and stared at the canopy above her head. She thought she recognized it, but to be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure. King Uachdaran had graciously given her the use of a guest chamber, but she hadn’t spent very much time in it. When she hadn’t been sitting outside Acair’s prison door, she’d been either arguing with the king or worrying that Acair would be slain, their quest would fail, and she would never manage to free her grandfather from her uncle’s manor.
When she absolutely hadn’t been able to sleep, she’d allowed herself a moment or two to mourn the loss of an unremarkable existence in her uncle’s barn, assuming she might have found her way back there and encountered anything but his sword in her heart. Then again, perhaps her uncle would think twice about bothering her now that she had the ability to spew out words and have them do something besides sound threatening.
She would have rolled her eyes if she’d had the strength to do so. The unfortunate truth was that she had no idea what to do with whatever magic Soilléir of Cothromaiche had given her, and her attempts to simply waggle her fingers and hope for the best hadn’t gone all that well so far. She suspected she was fortunate that she hadn’t completely burned the king’s hall to the ground, though that at least might have prevented him from sending anyone else to his dungeon.
All of which brought her back to the point where she’d started: there was a man languishing in prison who had vowed to save the world and she was the one who had vowed to help him however she could.
She looked to her left to find a dwarf asleep on the sofa near the fire. She had a vague memory of him hovering over her with medicines, so perhaps he was the king’s physick. His snores were formidable, which solved the mystery of the buzzing.
She looked to her right and discovered the source of the very vile smell she realized had been troubling her even in her sleep. It was an elven prince’s bastard grandson, covered in dungeon leavings and listing so far out of the hard chair he was sitting on that she was half amazed he hadn’t fallen to the floor already.
She sat up with a gasp. “You’re free.”
Acair startled himself awake so badly that both he and his chair went sprawling. She tried to catch him, but that only left her tumbling out of bed onto the floor next to him. She would have reached for him, but he held up his hand to hold her off.
“Don’t let me ruin those lovely nightclothes of yours.”
As tempting as it was to throw her arms around him just the same, he had a point. She had never owned anything so fine as the garb she was wearing, so ruining it with the grime he was wearing seemed a terrible waste. She settled for a deep sigh of relief.
“How did you manage it?” she asked, then she froze. “Should we run?”
“We’re in the clear for the moment,” he said with a faint smile, “so no need to hop out the nearest window and leg it before Master Ollamh wakes himself with his snores.” He nodded toward the bed behind her. “Why don’t you get off the floor so you don’t catch a chill? I’ll give you the entire tale once you’re tucked back in.”
She crawled to her feet, then righted his chair for him. “Let me at least fetch you some wine.”
He heaved himself back up onto his seat, then closed his eyes and breathed lightly. “In a moment, when I think it will remain where I put it. I need to just sit for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
His condition was appalling, which left her suspecting he was very fortunate to still be breathing. She didn’t think the king had left spells below to torment him, but obviously just being locked in that terrible place for so long had been enough to leave him half dead. She wasn’t fully herself, which left her options for how to help him a bit on the thin side, but until he could eat, she could at least give him clean hands.
She walked over to a stand bearing a pitcher and bowl, leaning on various things on her way there when dizziness overcame her. She brought back what she needed, then set everything on the floor and found a footstool to use for a perch. She ignored his protests and washed his bruised and bloodied hands for him. She hesitated, then shrugged and dried his hands with one of the king’s fine towels that would likely be fit only for the rubbish heap.
She set the towel and basin aside, then looked up at him. “Not much better, but at least you’ll be able to eat without gagging.”
His eyes were rather more bloodshot than they had been a handful of moments before. He was also seemingly speechless, which she imagined might have been a first for him.
“The fireplace smokes,” she offered.
He cleared his throat roughly. “I’ll be sure to pen a sharply worded complaint when I can toddle off to His Majesty’s solar for ink and parchment.”
She imagined he just might. She gathered up what she’d used, carried it all to the far side of the room where neither of them would have to look at it, then returned to sit on the side of her bed. She would have offered Acair her spot, but she had the feeling he wouldn’t take it. A gentleman to the last.
“So,” she said, “how did this all come about? I don’t know if I’m more surprised to see you here or find myself here instead of winding up downstairs myself.”
He settled back against his chair and sighed deeply. “I believe His Majesty is a little unnerved by your ability to burn things down and feared to anger you further.”
“Surely not,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “Though I’ll admit I did lose my temper.”
He smiled faintly. “I’ll choose discretion and refrain from making any comment about the color of your hair and what, if anything, that might indicate.”
She would have glared at him, but she was honestly too unsettled by her actions to do anything but wish she hadn’t been responsible for them. She had always prided herself on being in control at all times. It was part of what made her a good horsewoman, never mind keeping her alive when she would rather have told her uncle to go to hell.
With the king, though, she’d been overcome by a fury that perhaps exceeded what his flat refusal to release Acair should have warranted. She’d reached for a spell of fire-making Acair had insisted that she learn, confident that since it had come fr
om him, it would have a bit of nastiness attached.
Certain that that would leave the right impression, she’d spat it out in the king’s direction with a ferocity that would have alarmed her if she’d been able to think past the flames that had burned inside her—and apparently outside her as well. It would have been easier to believe she had memorized the spell amiss, but the truth was, it had gotten away from her in a way no bolting stallion ever had.
She found that she couldn’t remember anything after that. Whether she had fainted because a guard had clunked her over the head with a sword hilt or she’d been overcome by the very foreign and unwelcome power that had rushed through her, she simply didn’t know.
What she did know was that she wasn’t sure she had any idea who she was any longer.
“We could talk about this, you know.”
She pulled herself back to the present moment. “I don’t want to.”
“I mean—”
“I know what you meant.”
He simply watched her in a way that was so reminiscent of the way his mother studied people, she almost flinched.
“Stop that,” she said crossly.
“Can’t help myself,” he said with a shrug. “I like to look at you.”
“You’re not looking,” she said, “you’re coming to conclusions. There’s a difference.”
“There might be, but I’m honestly too tired to decide what that might be. I’ll settle for simply looking at your fetching self without making any judgments.”
She supposed she couldn’t argue with that. She also imagined he didn’t need to be told that he looked so thoroughly exhausted, she was half surprised he wasn’t senseless on the floor. It was perhaps the worst thing she’d seen in days upon days of terrible things. Even in the dodgiest of locales while about the most dangerous activities, he had only ever looked as if he were on the verge of chortling before casting himself enthusiastically back into the fray.
Perhaps there had been a slow, reluctant march toward more serious expressions and viler curses, but in his defense, he’d been running from a mage of terrifying power he couldn’t defend either of them against. The price for simply eluding that mage long enough to allow them both to escape had been very high.
“You should take the bed,” she said. “You need it more than I do.”
He shook his head. “The king would definitely slay me for daring the same, not that I would think to anyway. I’ll pull up a scrap of floor later and be quite content.”
“Then food, at least.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “That would be very kind, thank you.”
Weariness had also made him terribly polite. She rose, then walked over to the little table that stood under the window and sported a tray laden with tea and biscuits. She poured two cups of tea and carried them back across the room. Acair accepted one, though he didn’t drink. She fetched a plate of biscuits and sat down on the bed, prepared to hand one to him when he looked like he could manage it. He still hadn’t touched his tea.
“Not good?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I think I might put it aside for now.”
She caught his cup before he dropped it, then set it on the night stand for him. She took her time resuming her spot and wondered if perhaps waking the king’s physick would be wise.
“I’m concerned,” she said frankly.
“All I need is another hour or two of sleep, then I’ll be back to my old self.” He rubbed his eyes with marginally clean fingers, then shook his head sharply. “Let’s talk about you instead.”
She applied herself to her own tea until there was no more, then set her cup down next to Acair’s and looked for something else to use as a distraction.
“Lovely weather we’re having,” she noted.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together as if they ached. “It might be, but it has absolutely nothing to do with that other thing we need to discuss.” His expression was very grave. “We’ll have to eventually, you know.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I’m very persistent.”
That was true, but she thought that with enough effort she might be able to avoid the conversation completely.
After all, what was there to discuss? ’Twas bad enough that she had set aside her good sense and pride as she’d sat with him on the other side of his invisible but very functional dungeon door and attempted to memorize a few spells. The business of spewing out words into thin air and trying to convince herself there was anything but embarrassment to follow was naught but foolishness—and fraught with peril, as she had proven recently not only to herself but the king outside in his courtyard.
“Did you see the stables?” she asked, desperate to distract him, but realizing even that would bring them back round to things she didn’t want to discuss. “They weren’t completely ruined, were they?”
“Just a bit scorched,” he said, “and you’re hedging.”
“Care for a biscuit?”
“Thank you, but nay, not yet.”
She settled for a look of pleading.
He smiled briefly. “Very well, I’ll leave you alone about it for the time being. Let’s discuss something less personal, say the condition of His Majesty’s beard. I think his having the same singed might be what turned the tide for me.”
“I honestly didn’t mean to,” she said. “He wasn’t being reasonable.”
“He generally isn’t,” Acair agreed, “but you definitely made an impression on him. You saved me, which I appreciate greatly. Also compelling was a bribe made by an unexpected ally.”
“Your grandmother?” she asked in surprise.
“Hearn of Angesand, rather, if you can believe it,” he said. “There is an extremely valuable pony in the king’s stables that has greatly improved the prospects of yours truly seeing spring. With any luck, we’ll be on our way before Uachdaran decides he’d rather walk than ride.”
She ignored the chills washing over her. Hot, cold, she hardly had any idea any longer what was amiss with her normally quite reliable form.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t go today?” she asked.
“I’ll admit I hesitate not to leave whilst the king is in such an accommodating mood, but I think another day of rest would serve us both well. I have a thing or two to investigate, if the opportunity arises.”
She imagined he would create an opportunity where none existed, which should have worried everyone in the vicinity.
“You should rest as well,” she said, “not make trouble.”
“But I’m a first-rate troublemaker,” he said smoothly. “Which you already knew.”
“Acair,” she said, realizing that she was coming close to begging. “Please don’t snoop.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I have no choice. There are doilies to rescue.”
“Is that all?”
He paused, then looked at her seriously. “I believe there might be books of ours that need to be recovered as well, unless you have thoughts on their location.”
She pointed over her shoulder. “Under the sofa cushion.”
He closed his eyes briefly, then smiled at her. “We wouldn’t want those getting lost out amongst the great unwashed masses—or my brothers, take your pick. There are things my grandmother jotted down that likely should have remained unwritten.”
She suppressed a shudder at the thought. She hadn’t had the chance to make a proper study of the book in question while they’d been in the middle of being tossed from his grandmother’s solar, but she’d had an eyeful of Acair’s expression after he’d glanced at what had been written in it. It was likely better to keep it tucked out of sight.
“Clever you for managing to hide it there.”
&n
bsp; “I stole the idea from you,” she said, then she glanced over her shoulder at the physick lying there, still dead to the world. “Why is he here, do you think?”
“The king was wringing his hands over the possibility of my doing something untoward, so it seems he’s here to guard you.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “I don’t think you have the energy to do anything untoward.”
“Sadly I believe the only unpleasant thing I might manage at present is to shove him onto the floor and take his place on something not stonelike.” He shrugged. “I generally prefer to put off mischief-making until after I’ve had a decent night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, so perhaps Uachdaran is safe for the day. You should also know that I never ravish maidens fair when they are indisposed.” He leaned his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. “No amount of insisting will change my mind, darling, so don’t even try.”
She rolled her eyes, though she had the feeling more than one maiden fair had begged for his attentions. She pushed her pillow up against the headboard of the bed and made herself comfortable so she could keep an eye on him, nothing more. If it gave her a chance to watch him more closely than usual, so be it.
The inescapable truth was, that man there had been designed to be best admired by the light of a fire. It cast his appallingly perfect form into just the right amount of shadow, flickered rather lovingly along his chiseled cheekbones and jaw, and danced with daring abandon over his dark, rakishly windblown hair. Of course, sunlight did a better job of revealing his eyes that weren’t quite blue, nor precisely green, but something altogether more spectacular.
She wondered just how indisposed a woman might have to be not to want his attentions.
“I could be persuaded to abandon my principles in a pinch,” he remarked, opening his eyes and looking at her. “If you insist.”
She imagined he could be persuaded to do quite a few things in a pinch, including leaving women swooning and everyone else running for cover.