He stood up, shook himself off as if he’d just come in from the rain, then walked over and put his arms around his mother. Hearn stepped forward and put his arms around them both.
Léirsinn stepped away to stand next to Acair, then looked at him to find him shaking his head slowly. He looked at her helplessly. She smiled, nudged him affectionately with her shoulder, then decided they might have things to discuss later on when they had a bit of peace.
Marcachd of Angesand released her son and spun around. Léirsinn hardly knew what to expect, though she wouldn’t have been surprised by either curses or a brisk invitation to find the front door. She was surprised to watch the woman throw her arms around Acair. She pounded him on the back exactly three times, leaned up and kissed him loudly on the cheek, then turned and flung her arms around her son again. If she wept, Léirsinn couldn’t hear her and Hearn’s enveloping hug hid her from sight.
Léirsinn looked to find Acair standing there looking as if he’d not only been elbowed in the nose, but kicked in the gut. He put his hand to his cheek as if he’d never touched his own skin before.
She wasn’t sure she would ever not enjoy the sight of Acair of Ceangail off balance. He looked like a colt who hadn’t quite found its legs yet, gangly and unsure.
It was one of the most endearing things she’d ever seen.
She supposed it didn’t change who he was. She had seen him at what was arguably his very worst. Perhaps he’d shown Slaidear mercy, or perhaps he’d simply been the one to mete out the proper justice no matter how that looked. She imagined he’d left her uncle looking at horrors he would never unsee simply because he’d been able to. That might have been a bit much, but she was neither his judge nor his sanctifier. He would have to live with what he’d done.
So would she, she knew. That she could still light a fire with five words was proof enough of that.
“I didn’t realize I’d come to visit, Mother,” Tùr said. “I feel like I’ve been dreaming, but they weren’t pleasant ones. Is there anything to eat?”
“We should go,” Acair murmured.
She nodded, then found Hearn holding out his hand. She shook it, then he extended it to Acair as well.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
“Thank you for the release from Uachdaran of Léige’s dungeon.”
“The price was worth it.”
“I would have done it just the same, my lord.”
Hearn slid him a look. “Careful, lad. Word will get around, you know. I do have that thank-you note you sent hammered into a barn wall. Someone might see it.”
“I’ll know whom to blame if they do.”
Léirsinn supposed the world hadn’t ended, but watching the two men in front of her exchanging pleasant words instead of curses was something. Hearn looked at her.
“He looks a bit shattered. Put him to bed for a few days, then have him shovel manure. He’ll be back to himself before we’re comfortable with it, I’m sure.”
Acair only nodded without comment, which Léirsinn supposed was indication enough of how weary he was. She had a final look at Hearn’s wife and son now walking off toward the pasture, then followed Hearn back through the house.
Hearn opened the front door. “Best be on your way before the morning is completely gone. Your lad can ride with you if you can stomach it.”
Léirsinn walked out into the late morning sunlight, then stopped so quickly, Acair almost plowed her over. She caught him by his hands on her shoulders. Handy, as it gave her something to do until she found her tongue. She looked quickly at Hearn who had come to stand next to her.
“A decent pony,” Hearn said mildly. “If you want him.”
The Grey stood there, nibbling on Marcachd’s flowers. He raised his head, nodded at her, then went back to his tearing of grass and bloom.
She supposed ’twas the burden of her non-magic that had rendered her so emotional. That was surely the only reason she was having difficulty seeing the lord of Angesand for her tears.
“I can’t afford him.”
“Didn’t say you had to pay for him, now did I?”
“But—”
“I might occasionally send you other beasts to train. This one will no doubt drain your lad’s coffers with feeding and housing him properly, so I’m repaid yet again.” He nodded toward the horse. “Off you go, lass. I believe you’re staying with Sgath. He likely has a stray brush or two.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Léirsinn managed.
Hearn shrugged, clapped Acair on the shoulder, then went back inside the house without further comment.
Léirsinn looked at the horse, then at the man standing there, barely, and wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“Please don’t make me walk to Sgath’s,” he managed.
She smiled. “We won’t.”
“He doesn’t have a saddle.”
“He doesn’t need one. I’ll give you a leg up, then you can just hold on and hope for the best.”
He put his arms around her and held her for a moment or two. “Tell me he doesn’t fly.”
“Darling,” she said, “I promise you won’t know if he does. Just close your eyes and trust me.”
She was fairly certain he’d muttered something that sounded a bit like a supplication, but she decided to ignore it. She gave him the promised leg up, then swung up behind him and gathered a bit of the Grey’s glorious mane in her hands. She invited him to be gentle with her love.
He flew just the same.
Several hours and a ride or two on that glorious horse while Acair napped in a pile of straw later, she was standing in a stall, brushing out a silvery tail. She finished, sighed, and considered weeping. She looked around to make certain no one would see, then jumped a little when she realized Acair was leaning on the stall door. His eyes were closed, though, so she imagined he hadn’t watched her blubbering over a pony, no matter how perfect.
“Come to shovel?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Fetch you for supper, rather. I’ll shovel later.”
She thanked him for opening the stall door for her, handed off brush and curry comb to one of Sgath’s stable lads, then brushed off her hands before she studied him.
“You look better.”
“Another day or two and I’ll be back to my old self,” he agreed. “Decent food and lovely surroundings do wonders.”