“Why don’t I just come with you?”
“Of course, love,” he said quietly.
She imagined he realized that was less about his flawless face and more about not wanting to be alone, but the man was perceptive.
It took far less time than she liked before she was standing at the back door with him, his damned horse sitting at his feet, drooling, and thought she might lose what little breakfast she’d managed to choke down a quarter hour before.
“How will we do this?” she croaked.
He looked at her in surprise, then closed his eyes briefly before he gathered her into his arms.
“I won’t tell you not to be afraid,” he said quietly. “Fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing from time to time. Keeps a wise lad from doing something stupid whilst the rest of the fools rush in and perish, as my mother would say. There also might be something in there about that rushing being what rids the world of mindless yobs, but you know her.”
She almost smiled. “Your mother is a wonder.”
“She’s terrifying and for good reason. As for the other, you’re wise to be cautious, but you have many weapons to hand. You still have your coins?”
“Aye.”
“You remember how to keep grain from tipping out of buckets whilst simultaneously setting fire to annoying lords’ trousers?”
“I’m insulted,” she managed, “and you should be afraid I’ll set fire to yours for that ridiculous question.”
He patted her back. “I’m properly cowed, believe me. I’ve watched you at your work.”
“I think I like it better when you can use your magic.”
He laughed a little. “Now, that is something I never thought to ever hear you say.”
She pulled back far enough to look at him under the lovely werelight he’d hung over their heads. “I’m not sure how we’ll do this.”
He considered, then pulled away and reached for her hand. He led her over to the kitchen table, lit a fire in the hearth with a spell she didn’t hear, then pulled out a chair for her. He waited until she was seated, gentleman that he was, then sat down facing her.
“We’ll give my horse a moment to have a proper nap there by the fire,” he said, “and discuss our strategy for a moment or two. Wine?”
“I’m not sure anything would help at this point.”
“Then I won’t offer you anything stronger,” he said with a smile. He leaned forward and took her hands. “I don’t know how it is with horses, but with mages there is a fine line to walk between killing them outright and allowing them to do themselves in, so to speak.”
“Would you slay him?” she asked faintly.
“If it came to a choice between your life and his? Without a second thought. But if I slay him, we will likely never know what spell he’s using presently, never mind what spell he’s still looking for. Leaving something like that out in the world—and believe me, I can hardly believe these words are coming out of my mouth—for some enterprising mage to simply pick up and tuck in a pocket would be rather disastrous.”
“You’d best be careful,” she said seriously.
He looked a little startled. “Why?”
“People are going to find out the truth about you and the quests will never stop.”
“Take that back,” he said, looking genuinely appalled. “Every last word of it.”
She smiled. “I won’t. So, where does that leave us?”
“It leaves me unnerved at what you’ve wished on me, but I’ll hide when any messengers show up at the front door and leave you to attend to them. As for our current business, I think we should see what Seannair’s library holds, then accept the inevitable.”
She supposed she didn’t need to be a mage to understand where he was going with that.
“You’ll have to face him,” she said quietly.
“And you’ll have to contain that bloody spell of death outside so I can,” he agreed. “Unless I can determine in the meantime how to destroy it.”
“But it has parts of your soul you’ve collected.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m not entirely sure my mother didn’t invent that on the spot just to annoy me, but I can’t deny what I’ve seen. I’m not sure what good those bits of myself will do me, but in the end it might not matter. Even if you can only hold off that spell long enough for me to do what needs to be done, it will be enough.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “And if I can’t?”
“I have a very useful spell of death in my pocket.”
“But you’d rather have answers.”
“I would,” he agreed. “Not only might he have other spells waiting to be nicked and used, he also likely knows how to reverse what those pools of shadow have taken, if that sort of thing is even possible. I owe Hearn at least an attempt to find that answer. Your grandfather as well, possibly.”
“And if he slays you?” she asked, forcing herself to speak calmly when what she wanted to do was weep. “I’m not thinking only of myself, though I am because I’m not sure what I would do without…well…”
“You want to protect yourself so you might spend the rest of your life leaving me forgetting to drink my tea before it grows cold because I’ve been too busy being mesmerized by the color of your hair.” He shrugged lightly, though he didn’t look particularly casual. “A little self-serving, that, but I understand.”
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Turn about and all that.” He held out his rune with the spell of death attached. “Take this.”
She didn’t want to, but he didn’t give her any choice. He took her hand, put it on her palm, and closed her fingers around it.
“If something happens to me, you’ll throw that at him in the confusion, without mercy and without hesitation. The world will survive. Then you’ll shapechange as we’ve discussed and head for the closest bolt hole.” He bent his head, kissed her fingers, then stood up. “But it won’t come to that.”
She couldn’t begin to entertain thoughts of what her life would look like if that weren’t the case and, surprisingly enough, that had mostly to do with that man there.
She rose, put her chair back where it was meant to go, then watched Acair as he went to fetch her satchel from the back door. He brought it over, created a pocket under the lid with magic she didn’t recognize, then tucked the spell of death inside it. He put the strap over her head, settled it on her shoulder, then kissed her quickly.