The Prince of Souls (The Nine Kingdoms Book 12)

by Lynn Kurland

  “One passed down from Léirsinn’s paternal grandfather, actually, through her sire, but aye, you see where the tale leads.”

  “He collected the stories without having any idea what he was actually collecting, then Sladaiche followed his nose there and slew Léirsinn’s father.”

  “Aye,” Soilléir agreed, “only after having watched her father’s father and grandfather, for reasons I don’t need to give you. None of that line remains, as I said. I’m not sure their ends were quick and painless.”

  Acair rubbed his fingers over his brow, but found that a rather inadequate means of stopping the pounding there. “I won’t tell her that bit, I don’t think.”

  “Perhaps not now. She might want to know later, on the off chance Tosdach mentions it.”

  Acair nodded. “I’ll remember that.” He walked for a bit, then shook his head. “Why didn’t Sladaiche just dig through their house and take the book when Léirsinn was a child?”

  Soilléir looked at him steadily. “I don’t think he even considered the books until after he’d slain the parents. I will admit I sent him off hunting things that didn’t exist long enough to get the children out of the house. There was nothing left for him to find when he returned, not even the books.”

  Acair shook his head in disbelief. “Do you have any idea what sort of harm’s way you put her in?”

  “She wasn’t unprotected,” Soilléir said carefully, “and there were other distractions to draw Sladaiche’s attention elsewhere. Your father was one.”

  “My father?” Acair echoed. “What in the hell does he have to do with any of this?”

  “For that, we must go back many years. Sladaiche built a house next to your father’s because he wanted your father’s spell of Diminishing to use in completing what he’d taken from my grandfather’s library, which was thankfully unfinished—”

  “Wait,” Acair said, stopping and looking at him. “We found the book, which I’m certain you already know, but the entire thing was gone, not just a single spell. Where are the innards?”

  Soilléir shrugged. “No idea.”

  “You realize when you say things like that, I have to clasp my hands behind my back to keep them from resting where they so desperately want to instead. That would be around your throat, if you’re confused.”

  “I wasn’t,” Soilléir said easily “As for the rest of the book, it likely rotted years ago in someone’s compost bin, not that your grandmother couldn’t rewrite every spell in there. I wouldn’t worry.”

  Acair supposed he didn’t need to point out that when Soilléir wasn’t worried, the rest of the world needed to be terrified. He also wished with a desperation that left him a bit weak in the knees for a notebook and a pencil.

  There was definitely no escaping it any longer. He had become his mother.

  “When Sladaiche realized he would never have Diminishing from your sire,” Soilléir continued, “he turned to others who might know it. Why do you think he left that spell on his mantel for you to find? You do realize, don’t you, that none of your brothers who traipsed through his house could pull it down, much less unwrap it and cast it aside as dross.”

  “Well,” Acair said, trying—and failing—not to feel a bit chuffed. “Well.”

  Soilléir smiled. “I believe though Sladaiche assumed you didn’t know your father’s spell, he thought you would have it soon enough. If he had been able to befriend you, who knows what would have happened? He might have persuaded you to tell him what he needed to know. There have been many who have watched your adventures with more than a passing interest.”

  “I’m certain I’ve kept you up at night.”

  “You have,” Soilléir agreed, “and nay, you may not have any of my spells. That would require the seven rings of mastery and then tests I’m not sure you would care for.”

  “My heart is already broken,” Acair said lightly. “Not sure you could do worse.”

  “I would break your soul, Acair.”

  Acair managed a look of loathing that didn’t require all that much effort.

  Soilléir only smiled placidly. “So to continue, the time came when Sladaiche turned his eye to the east and to your lady’s family. I believe his thinking was the same with them as with you and your brothers. When he realized her parents couldn’t give him what he wanted, he turned to the children. They were, of course, too young to be of any use at the time, but he was nothing if not patient.”

  “So you orchestrated the rescue of them.”

  Soilléir nodded. “I sent Iseabail and Taisdealach to other locales and arranged for Léirsinn to be sent to Tosdach. Sladaiche arrived the next day and because he feared what her grandfather might say, her grandfather was muted.”

  “Why not slay him instead?”

  “I can only suppose Sladaiche thought he might know something. He of course rifled through Léirsinn’s things but found nothing. But over the past pair of years, that patience had seemed to be on the wane. Fuadain was nothing more than a useful fool for him, but when I could see that ending badly, there was no choice but to act.”

  Acair shook his head. “But why me?”

  “Many reasons. Your encounter with him when you were a child was one. You obviously have the power—”

  “From my grandmother—”

  “From your grandmother,” Soilléir agreed, “which is something you might want to investigate later. Also, your house is built on the stables, as you now know, so he would have eventually razed it to the ground to look for what he thought might lie there.”

  “You put me in harm’s way, without any power, putting Léirsinn’s life in danger now, to face…” Acair found himself spluttering, but was at a loss for another way to express his astonishment. “What the hell were you talking about when you said I could walk where you could not?”

  “What would you say if I said ’twas to walk within your own soul and find what lies there?”

  “I would say that once I’ve had a decent meal and an equal amount of whisky, you had better have found someplace to hide.” He snorted. “What absolute rubbish.”

  “The schools of wizardry are safe haven enough, I imagine.”

  “Do you know how many times I’ve slithered over those walls and put my feet up in Droch’s solar?” Acair asked archly. “I’ve even had a wee skip about his bloody chess board and hobnobbed with the pieces too stupid to realize what his true game is.”

  “So you have,” Soilléir said. “Next time you visit, come have a glass of wine at my fire. I’m sure we’ll find much to discuss.”

  Acair rarely felt himself blindsided, but that someone would actually invite him in for simple conversation? ’Twas unsettling, to be sure. He fumbled about in the appropriate dresser for something nasty to say but found that particular drawer distressingly empty.

  “I loathe you,” he said, because ’twas simply all he had left.

  Soilléir only laughed softly. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

  “Actually, there is. You told me not to find a spell, but to steal it. That, Your Highness, is a bit more egregious than a simple white lie.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested if I told you to go find something and use it for good.” Soilléir looked at him gravely. “I misjudged you.”

  Acair waited.

  “I apologize.”

  Acair looked about himself, then glared at the prince. “The world still stands, which is encouraging. But for that absolutely appalling mendacity, I believe I will require more than a simple apology.”

  When one had an essence changer cornered, there was no reason not to press one’s advantage. He was quite sure his mother had said that a time or two, which led him to wonder if she’d had experience with the like.

  Soilléir only smiled. “Seven rings of mastery, my lord Acair, then we’ll talk.”

 
; “Can you imagine,” Acair said with a snort, ruthlessly tamping down a little something that bubbled up in the vicinity of his heart over the thought. “Me, at the schools of wizardry.”

  “I can,” Soilléir said. “Miach did it.”

  “He had time on his hands,” Acair said loftily. “I, on the other hand, have a very full calendar.”

  “If you have an opening, you might consider it.”

  Acair set aside that appalling thought to perhaps contemplate after an inordinate amount of Durialian dark ale, then continued to walk in companionable silence with a man who had apparently been more involved in world events than he’d claimed to be. How those events had been a part of his own life without his having known a damned thing…

  He thought he might have to walk on the shore near his house for quite a while before he managed to come to terms with them.

  “One more thing.”

  He thought he might be able to guess what Soilléir was about to say, so he simply looked at him in silence.

  “Her father’s people have in the past lived decently long lives.”

  He took a deep breath. “I see.”

  “I may or may not have…meddled,” Soilléir added. “With the both of you. For a bit longer than either of your souls would provide.”

  He was simply beyond surprise, to the point where all he could do was gape at the man in silence.

  Soilléir only smiled and walked away to stand altogether too close to Léirsinn’s sister.

  Acair hung back as the company gathered itself together to discuss the gastronomic possibilities lurking inside The Preening Pelican. He watched Sianach toss off his equine shape with a snort and dart off into the forest with a yowl of feline hunger. Doghail staggered, but was caught quite handily by Lord Tosdach and ushered without delay inside. The rest of the company followed, chatting companionably.

  He found himself in the end standing outside with Léirsinn. He was enormously gratified to have her put her arms around him and it had nothing at all to do with her keeping him on his feet. He supposed he would need to tell her about those things Soilléir had gifted the two of them, apparently, but perhaps later, when they were sitting in front of his fire at home and he’d had a decent amount of whisky.

  He could only hope she wouldn’t regret being saddled with him for as long as she likely would be now.

  “No spot of shadow by the door,” she said suddenly.

  “Thankfully,” he said, pulling himself back to the conversation at hand.

  “I have that piece of your soul in my pocket, just so you know. Soilléir has thoughts on how we might put it back in you.”

  He could only imagine. “Whisky first,” he said weakly.

  “I suggested that.”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “You are a sterling gel. You deserve a far better man than I.”

  “Should I keep looking, then?”

  He blinked, then realized she hadn’t released him. “Of course not. Just giving you one last chance to escape.”

  “Still not a proper proposal, Acair.” She kissed him quickly, then pulled away. “You might want to work on that while we’re working on you. Soilléir has a plan.”

  That plan, he discovered a half hour and four fingers of whisky later, involved a Cothromaichian spell of un-noticing cast over their company, Léirsinn’s family’s dragon spell spoken in reverse, and his charred soul and Léirsinn’s hand placed on his bare chest over the scar Rùnach had so thoughtfully left behind to remind him how close he’d come to death before.

  He gaped at the rune on the back of his lady’s hand that blazed with fire in the shape of a dragon and snorted what felt like the fires of Hell directly into his flesh.

  He looked around at the souls watching him, but none seemed to have the slightest bit of sympathy for the agony that was, he had to admit, mercifully brief.

  He considered, frowned a bit, then looked at his love.

  “I feel…better.”

  “You look better.”

  He flexed his fingers. “I might have to take myself out for a canter about the old place in a bit.” He leaned closer to her. “I also might need to make a hasty journey in the direction of Angesand.” He looked around him, but the rest of the company had somehow left him for a rousing game of cards with another group of locals. He turned back to his lady. “You know, in regard to that promise I made to Hearn.”

  She pushed a small coin toward him. “Soilléir said he went back to my unc—I mean, to Fuadain’s study for a bit of a visit while you and I went to the barn.”

  “No doubt to make certain I’d left the man alive,” he muttered.

  “I think he cared far less about that than finding this, if you want the truth.” She nodded. “He said you would need it.”

  He pocketed that very precious piece of what he assumed was Tùr of Angesand’s soul and decided that he might have to tender a decent thank-you for the same. “I don’t suppose Seannair’s youngest grandson also sent word ahead as well as leaving us directions on where to go?”

  “I think he said something about not wanting to be too involved in things.”

  Acair looked for the barmaid and raised his finger. That comment was going to require another drink, but perhaps after that he would decide how best to accomplish the final task on his list.

  “Will you tell me what we’re actually going to do?”

  He blinked. “Of course.” He put his arm around her and leaned back against the wood of the bench they shared. “Hearn asked me to do a bit of, well, healing. For a change. With his son.”

  “Careful,” she murmured. “You never know where that might lead.”

  “I know exactly where it will lead which is why I’ll only do it this once unless you’re involved, or perhaps one of our numerous children. But this is the final act of do-gooding for me. I’m looking for that old leaf and turning it back over.”

  “Of course.”

  He had to take a deep breath before he could look at her. “Frightened off yet?”

  “Not yet,” she said with a shrug. “And just so you know, you’re terrible at this proposing business.”

  He met her gaze and realized she was looking as him as if she might very well have been rather fond of him. He ignored the choruses of huzzahs and other appropriate sentiments all the damn magics in his chest set up, and smiled faintly. “I might corner your grandfather later.”

  “Do you want me to come along and prop you up?”

  He attempted a look of mock outrage. “Accompany me on my manly business? I think not.”

  Her smile faded. “Did it do any good?” she asked, sounding a bit wistful. “That magic of mine?”

  “You can’t truly mean that,” he said, genuinely startled. “I couldn’t have used that spell on my own. It needed you.”

  “Can you do this thing for Hearn’s son with just me?”

  “Of course,” he said confidently. “I’ll take Soilléir’s place, you’ll do what you do, and we’ll see what happens.”

  “Soilléir did suggest that while you were wheezing.”

  “Of course he did,” Acair grumbled. “The next thing I know, he’ll be hiring me out to do his dirty work for him.”

  “He said that as well.”

  Acair leaned his head back against the worn wood of that sturdy pub bench and gave himself up for utterly lost. The next thing he knew, Soilléir was going to have him going round to every damned soul in the Nine Kingdoms to refill their cups, as it were.

  He thought he might have to make a concerted effort to retrieve parts of his own black soul lest he never again be equal to carrying on the grand and glorious tradition of his parents.

  Of course, he would have to find a way to balance that with the rather unexpected pleasure of having the woman he loved sitting contentedly next to him
, stroking the back of his hand as if she might have a few fond feelings for him, and listening to the pleasant conversation of companions who had apparently tired of their gaming sport and returned to greener conversational pastures.

  It was all very unexpected and unexpectedly pleasant.

  Who would have thought that he might be adding to his list of favorite things?

  Twenty-four

  Léirsinn stood just inside Sgath and Eulasaid’s barn and looked at the sky that was threatening rain. She didn’t mind rain, especially when she was able to stay inside and listen to it falling against a barn roof. Flying in it seemed a somewhat poorer way to enjoy it, but she supposed the hooded cloak Acair had given her might keep her dry enough.

  She looked at the man in question who was also watching the sky and apparently considering whether or not the rain might stop.

  “It was lovely of your grandparents to let us stay for a few days,” she offered.

  “They insisted,” he said, “but aye, it was.”

  “What will you do now?” she asked.

  “After I try to heal Hearn’s son?” he asked, looking at her. “Or after I wed myself a gel with a rune on her hand and plans to acquire countless ponies?”

  “The latter, surely.”

  He smiled. “Haven’t a damned clue.”

  She leaned against the door and looked at him. “I never asked what you did to Fuadain.”

  “You don’t want to know.” He turned back to his contemplation of the sky. “He might not sleep easily for a while.”

  “Weeks?”

  “I tend to operate in decades, darling. I did do him the very great favor of hiring a pair of lads from the pub to go look for his sons to come claim their inheritance since your grandfather didn’t seem to be interested in remaining there. That was the very least I could do given that he likely won’t manage anything past sitting in the corner and rocking for a few years.” He turned toward her and reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “What will you do now?”

  “Have the people I love all in the same place,” she said, finding the thought almost too lovely to contemplate. “Perhaps even my brother occasionally.”