Why Acair had felt the need for that sort of display that morning was curious. She understood the necessity of releasing a bit of pent-up energy. She had shooed countless ponies into turnouts where they could run until they had run themselves out.
But, as she’d noted before, Acair was not a horse and that business out there hadn’t been a mage simply taking his spells out for a canter around the arena.
She walked into his study without thinking and found him standing in front of the fire, his hands on the mantel, leaning against it as if he were simply too weary to stand. His hair was still damp and he looked fresh-scrubbed, but he was definitely not at peace.
She would have turned around and left him to himself if she’d been a different sort of woman, but she was accustomed to facing feisty stallions head on. She reminded herself of that as she walked across the room, sat down, and looked up at him. He didn’t look as if he intended to speak any time soon, so she opened the conversational stall door herself.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Remembering who I am,” he said hoarsely. “Darkness is my birthright and use it I shall until the world ceases to turn.”
She had no doubt he would. She leaned her head back against the very fine leather of that chair and studied him.
“Why did you do all that?”
He shot her a look that she was certain was exactly the sort of thing she slid stable lads who asked questions they already had the answers for.
She nodded. “To discourage him from coming after you.”
He took a deep breath, but said nothing. She would have assured him that no one with any of their wits still in their possession would have approached him after the display he’d put on, but she supposed he knew that already. If his intention had been to show the mage lurking in the shadows what he was capable of, he had definitely accomplished that. She wasn’t sure why that morning had seemed like a good time for it, but it wasn’t as if he’d been able to use his magic freely before then.
What she couldn’t understand was why he’d been so hard on her.
The truth was, he hadn’t until that morning pushed her to do anything but dabble in magic. In fact, if she were to be entirely honest, aside from a very easy morning of not much at all in Léige, he hadn’t pushed her to learn anything. She had no idea why he’d changed his mind…
She felt her thoughts come to ungainly halt.
There was no reason for him to indulge in that sort of flourishy display for himself. Surely the mage outside his spell knew who he was and what he was capable of.
There was even less reason for him to push her to learn any sort of spell beyond simply containing that spell of death so he could use his own magic.
Unless he didn’t fear for himself.
She found herself on her feet. Easier to run that way, perhaps, though she wasn’t sure where she thought she would go. She simply stood there, shaking, as things occurred to her that hadn’t before.
There was only one reason why Acair would want her to have more spells than a simple one to keep that spell of death bound so it wouldn’t slay him.
She felt her heart almost stop.
“He doesn’t want you,” she managed.
Acair only looked at her, silent and grave.
She felt a horror descend that was far worse than what had caught her by the throat when she’d realized her uncle was plotting her murder.
“Me?” she asked, but the word came out as barely a whisper.
He only shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
She was torn between weeping and howling, so she chose the most sensible reaction which was to do neither.
“But I’m nobody—”
He reached over and pulled her into his arms. She would have pointed out that he was robbing her of her ability to breathe, but she realized fairly quickly that he was the only thing holding her inside herself.
Her world was suddenly ripped from her as if by claws. She was beyond weeping, beyond fleeing, in a place so far beyond fear that she wasn’t sure she would ever feel anything else.
And the only thing keeping her from shattering was a man who was capable of creating and destroying horrors that she had never seen even in her worst nightmares.
“That’s why you made me do all that,” she said, finally, her words muffled against his shoulder.
“Aye.”
“And why you used all that…”
“I want him to know exactly what I’m capable of,” he said harshly. “And what I will do to him if he harms you.”
She laughed a little, wondering if it sounded as unhinged to him as it did to her. “A hero from Neroche could not have been more chivalrous.”
She wasn’t sure what to call the noise he made, but it was a decent mirror of the anguish she felt.
He held her for so long, she wondered if the rest of the afternoon had passed and night had fallen. She closed her eyes, pressed her face against his neck, and simply shook.
She realized he was smoothing his hand over her hair, as if he sought to soothe her. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“Thank you.”
He pulled back, kissed her quickly, then stepped away.
“Strong drink,” he said firmly.
She looked at him. “I can’t believe this, you know.”
He hesitated, then shook his head wearily. “He doesn’t want me, Léirsinn.”
“How do you know?”
“Because last night I stepped outside my spell, faced him, and he only yawned. He heard your voice and things changed.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He doesn’t want me.”
She caught his hand before he passed her. “I can’t do this,” she said, then she paused. “How do I do this?”
“How like you,” he said quietly. “Testing the ground, then rushing out to stomp the bloody hell from it.”
“Why does everyone want me dead?”
He smiled without humor. “I honestly don’t know, love. You haven’t done anything to merit it.”
She sighed. “I apologize. I said that unthinkingly.”
“Oh, I’ve earned the ire of those who would like to see me breathe my last,” he admitted. “You, on the other hand, haven’t. Perhaps your uncle hired that man out there because he thought you would one day rise up to challenge him for his hall.”
“Fuadain has sons of his own.”
“Sons can be poisoned.”