She was silent for so long, he thought she’d finally fallen asleep.
“I will protect you,” she said very quietly. “I just need to catch my breath first.”
He found absolutely nothing in his vast repertoire of off-hand remarks that was equal to responding to that. His eyes burned terribly, but perhaps he couldn’t be blamed for it. He leaned up on his elbow and kissed her cheek, trying not to think about how many times in his very long life he had gone to sleep next to a woman he had wept over not once but twice. The number he would likely eventually have to give his mother for her history was zero.
“You’re a bit of a weeper, aren’t you?”
He smiled. “What an outrageously insulting thing to say.”
“I’m going to wake up with a cold thanks to you.”
He laid back down, put his arm around her again, and thought she might be right.
“Acair?”
“Hmmm?”
“What about your spell?” She paused. “You said only Soilléir could get through it?”
“Ah, I did promise you that tale, didn’t I?” Perhaps he might bore her to sleep. Given the identity of the essence-changing protagonist in the promised escapade, that was entirely possible.
“You did.”
He propped himself up on his elbow and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well, as you might imagine, I am very fond of a decent night’s repose followed by drinkable coffee that bears no resemblance to the sludge my mother makes.”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled faintly. “It was terrible.”
“I think she does it on purpose to discourage lengthy stays by her houseguests, but that’s just my theory. As for my hospitality, let’s just say that I’m extremely choosey about who comes inside my front gates. Not even my sire could break that spell.”
She looked as if she very much hoped that might be true. “But Prince Soilléir?”
“Not even he could, though I imagine he wouldn’t bother to try.” He paused. “Let me rephrase that. Whilst he absolutely could not breach my spell in its current state, he could change it into something else entirely using one of those damned spells he’s so stingy with and definitely walk right through it. The thing is, making that change to my spell would take a mighty piece of magic on his part. He would have to hope he had the strength left afterward to fight off what I would do to him for his cheek.”
“All magic comes at a price,” she said slowly.
“As you know,” he agreed.
“Do you pay anything?”
“The better question is, would I admit it if I did? But because you’ve asked, I’ll give you the easy answer which is that it depends. Little magics? Nay. I’ve been using them for so long that they don’t trouble me. Too much Fadaire—and I know, I said I rarely used it which I’m finding is less accurate than I would like—tends to give me a headache in the same way too much desert might.”
“I can only imagine,” she said.
“I’m certain you can. As for other things?” He shrugged as best he could. “Large pieces of magic leave me flattened for a few days, but nothing worse than that. So to answer your original question, aye, there is a price to be paid and not even I manage to escape it. As far as the other goes, I’m guessing Soilléir can do any number of things without needing even the briefest of naps. That comes from the power that is his bloodright, though I would assume that there are things that would tax even the limits of that.”
“Has he ever had a go at your spell?”
“Now, this is a very amusing little tale,” he said. “Why don’t you come a bit closer and I’ll do it justice.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m close enough, thank you just the same, and I refuse to be distracted.”
He wished he could say the same thing, poor hopelessly lost fool that he was. He decided it was nothing short of exceptional discretion that kept him from commenting that she had no doubt turned over so she could admire him more easily. He rested his head on his fist and put his hand over hers. If he made a point of not inquiring about whether or not her trembles were from his charming self instead of fear, well, he was a gentleman. Her fingers that she intertwined with his were still very cold, which he supposed was answer enough.
“So, to continue,” he said, pulling himself away from things he couldn’t solve at the moment, “I was off one day investigating things that intrigued me when Prince Soilléir caught me lifting up the corner of his grandfather’s ermine-trimmed robe—magically speaking—just to see what sorts of things might tempt an enterprising lad such as myself. He did me the great courtesy of accompanying me back to my humble abode where I nipped inside my own border and then offered a pointed remark or two about either his grooming or his dress—the details escape me.”
“I imagine they don’t,” she said dryly.
He smiled briefly. “Perhaps not. Suffice it to say, he indulged in a little performance of what he can do, because he’s an impossible braggart when he thinks no one important is watching. Properly cowed, I promised never to darken his grandfather’s back stoop again. He very kindly repaired the hole he’d put in my spell, then planted in front of it a very nasty patch of nettles which I’m quite sure will outlive me by several centuries. I’ll show you the spot in the daytime, if you like. But if it eases you any, there isn’t another soul walking the Nine Kingdoms with his power. I suppose we should all be grateful he’s a decent soul, all his catastrophically boring ruminations about virtuous living aside, or we would be doomed.”
“I can see why you want his spells.”
“You might also understand why he won’t give them to me.”
“To be honest,” she said quietly, “I’m not sure I do.”
He found that all he could do was stare at her, mute.
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the story.”
“I don’t know how else to help you,” he said before he thought better of it.
“That you’re trying is breaking my heart a little.”
“I’m having a bit of heartburn over the notion myself,” he said, finding the lie tripping off his tongue like a Diarmailtian school lad who’d been let off early for his summer holiday. “Cad that I am, of course. Give me a moment to dig deeper for some spellish nastiness. That might suit you better.”
She smiled, then rolled over. “Tomorrow.”
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or weep. He was so damned turned around in so many ways that he honestly had no idea where to begin in recapturing the vile, ruthless mage he’d been not a month earlier.