The mage had been waiting just outside the garden gate. How he’d known she was outside she didn’t know given that Acair’s spell of concealment had still been hanging there, doing what he’d created it to do.
Perhaps Sladaiche had heard the back door open. Perhaps Sianach’s barking had alerted him to someone in the garden. Perhaps he had simply taken a stab in the dark and crossed his fingers that someone had come outside. She wondered if he’d actually believed that she would be foolish enough to simply walk through the gate and give herself up for lost.
She hadn’t expected him to fling a shard of magic toward the house that she’d been convinced was going to go directly through what lay over the garden and slay her.
Acair’s perfectly impenetrable spell had fluttered just the slightest bit, once, then gone on about its glorious task of keeping her safe.
She’d turned and walked calmly back the way she’d come. If she’d only managed that for a total of four paces before she’d bolted up the stairs and into the house, slammed the door shut, then fetched a chair to wedge under the latch, she supposed she was the only one who would know. Sianach had barked at the door immediately after, which had almost sent her into a dead faint.
She’d been tempted to leave him outside to fend for himself, but she wasn’t that cowardly. She’d brought him in, replaced the chair, then run through the house to perch on the edge of her current roost and indulge in a prayer or two that Acair would wake. She’d made a fire, but that had burned to embers an hour ago and she hadn’t dared go outside for more wood.
The fire leapt to life suddenly and she shrieked.
“Just me,” Acair said hoarsely.
She realized he was awake and watching her. She dropped to her knees next to him and suppressed the urge to fling herself at him. He reached for her hand.
“How long?”
“Almost two days.”
He put his free hand over his eyes, then groaned. “My apologies.”
“Right out of the gate with one, I see.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
She thought that was quite a bit less terrifying than what she’d experienced earlier, but perhaps that was a tale better saved for later. She was happy to simply sit there and not be alone. Well, she supposed she was happy that her companion was alive and awake, but perhaps she didn’t need to admit that at the moment.
She realized he was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
“You’re safe, darling.”
She took a deep breath. “I know.”
“Anything interesting happen?” he asked.
“I didn’t use all of your tokens,” she managed. “There’s one left.”
He looked at her in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. “A very poor jest, that one.”
“Just a bit of good-natured sport,” she said, her mouth dry. She imagined she didn’t need to say how close she’d come to rummaging around in his purse for his spell of death just in case.
She was starting to see why mages used them.
“Stop holding up that polished glass so I might see all my flaws,” he muttered. He sat up, then apparently regretted it. He lay back down with a groan. “Any change?”
“He tried to break through your spell.”
Acair put his arm over his eyes, then let go of her hand and held open his other arm. “Come keep me in one piece for a moment, love.”
She stretched out next to him and tried not to wail, though she supposed if there were a place to fall apart, ’twas there. If he noticed how badly she was shaking, he made no mention of it. He simply put both his arms around her and held her close.
She didn’t want to admit it, she who had taken care of herself for so long with only the aid of her sharp tongue and a riding crop, but there was something profoundly comforting about being held by a man who had stepped between her and harm’s way more than once.
“You’re thinking lovely thoughts about me,” he whispered. “I can tell.”
“I might be.”
“You should unburden yourself and tell me all,” he said, “but let me hear this other bit first. Veg before dessert, as my scrupulous dam always taught me.”
“Did she?”
He grunted. “You don’t want to know what she taught me. She also has sweets for breakfast, so that might tell you more than you want to know. What happened?”
“I went outside for a walk,” she said unwillingly.
“I’m certain you did. Was my spell of un-noticing still intact?”
“It seemed to be,” she said slowly.
“Did he know you were there?”
She nodded. “He tried to break through your spell. I didn’t provoke—”
“Léirsinn, of course you didn’t,” he interrupted. “You haven’t done anything to him. If anything, he should be coming after me for leaving him falling off his ladder in a tangle of flailing limbs and humiliation. He’s simply a marginally powerful fool with hurt feelings. We’ll find out what he wants, then I’ll see to him.”
“How do you bear any of this?” she whispered.
He sighed deeply. “Decades of bluster and terrible spells.”
She tilted her head back where she could look at his face. “Are you truly never afraid?”
He glanced at her, then looked up at the ceiling. “Do you honestly believe I’ll answer that?”
“You might,” she said. “If you think it will help me.”
“Ye gads, woman,” he said faintly. “The things you say.”
She only waited. He glanced at her, frowned, then looked back up at the ceiling. He was silent for so long, she wondered if he wouldn’t answer her after all. In the end, though, that lad there was never afraid, not even of prying questions. He’d said so on more than one occasion.
“I was afraid once,” he said slowly. “And if you repeat this, I’ll deny it.”
“I never would.”
“Which is why I’ll be honest with you.” He let out his breath slowly. “I was, as it happened, nosing about in a place where I shouldn’t have been.”
She leaned up on her elbow and looked at him. “You?”
“I know,” he said dryly. “So out of character.”
“I’m guessing you were rummaging through someone’s solar, looking for things they might not want to share?”