He would have called it a final meeting, but he was perhaps more cynical than she was. He nodded, then looked at her.
“Do you care to remain for a bit?”
She shook her head. “Perhaps another time.”
He understood. He walked with her out of the house and paused just outside the doorway. He released her, tore the missive in half, then cast it on the ground. He was utterly unsurprised to watch it catch fire and smoke terribly before it burned itself out.
“Reply sent,” he said with a shrug. He reached over and scratched his horse behind his ears. “Sianach, we need to go. Back up and into something with wings, if you please.”
“You’re very calm.”
He shrugged. “I am never, ever afraid. Well, I might be of horses, if you want the entire truth. And snakes. I don’t care at all for snakes.”
“Will we reach Tosan safely?”
He sighed deeply. “The final meeting won’t happen if we’re too dead to attend. We’ll be safe enough.”
Though what would happen once they walked through those mediocre palace doors was anyone’s guess.
He waited for his hell-hound to have a proper stretch, then walk away from the house and take the shape of a terrifying black dragon with numerous red-tipped scales. He looked at his love.
“We’ll be there by dawn, I imagine,” he said quietly. “Why don’t you ride before me and try to sleep some.”
“I was going to say the same thing to you.”
He smiled and pulled her cloak up around her chin. “You just want an excuse to hold me in your arms, you shameless vixen.”
“Do I need to resort to that?” she asked archly.
He certainly hoped she didn’t, but he imagined he didn’t need to say as much. He put his arm around her and pulled her toward their mount. Perhaps they would divide the journey and take turns trying to rest.
Unfortunately, he feared that what awaited them, soulless black mage that he was and terribly courageous horse miss that she was, might require much more than sleep could furnish them.
Twenty
Léirsinn wondered why it had never occurred to her that the palace at Tosan wouldn’t have wood shavings on the floors and mattresses stuffed with hay.
Perhaps the luxury of her surroundings had something to do with arriving at the front door in the company of an elven prince’s grandson. Acair wasn’t at all shy about using his connections to his father’s family, though perhaps just the thought of hosting a black mage of such terrible reputation but flawless manners had been enough to cause the lord and lady of Tosan to rouse themselves before dawn to greet him at the front door.
They had been escorted with all decorum and not a few guardsmen to a chamber that definitely hadn’t seen any equine visitors recently. Water for washing, tea and a light repast, and a maid and manservant had been provided for Lord Acair and his affianced lady without delay. Léirsinn had done her best imitation of Acair in skirts, which she suspected had amused him almost to the point of wheezing, but what else could she do? She was so frantic with worry and concern, she was almost beside herself.
She was tempted to go look behind the sofa and under the bed for hapless stablemasters idly counting their evil spells, but she thought that might leave the servants wondering if she’d lost her wits.
“I believe my lady will simply require some rest,” Acair said, shooing servants toward the door. “Breakfast would be lovely, however, and please send my thanks to His Grace for the hospitality.”
Léirsinn turned as she heard the door shut and lock, then wondered if anyone would think her unreasonable to have left both her dignity and her shoes by the hearth as she bolted across the chamber and threw herself into Acair’s arms.
“Well,” he said, staggering a bit, “I hate to go to such extremes to have you right where I want you most, but if this is what it takes.”
She couldn’t find the words to make even a poor response to that, so she simply closed her eyes. He no doubt knew exactly what she feared, so there was no point in talking about it. She stood there and shook until he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her over to the hearth. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, then wrapped his arms around her.
That helped, but not much.
“This is very fine,” she said, searching for something unremarkable to discuss. “Not a boot scraper in sight.”
“Contrary to your previous opinion of it?”
She sighed. “What did I know? I thought Sàraichte was vast.”
“I’m sure the local burgess would be flattered, but nay, Sàraichte is only a tiny spot within the larger country of Siochail.”
“Never heard of it,” she said, wishing that were still the case at present.
“There is absolutely nothing interesting there,” he said. “The place is so large and full of hamlets and farms that it can’t scrape together enough royalty to have a seat on the Council of Kings. Tosan is the capital and the current lord of Tosan styles himself Duke, but who granted his family that honor is anyone’s guess. At least the accommodations are less terrible than I expected them to be.”
She pulled away far enough to be able to look at him. “I think it helps to be the grandson of a prince,” she offered.
“Bastard and horse gel or children of nobility,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll take the former for home, but I think we can happily use the latter for decent seats at table and chambers that look like this. It has been done before, believe me. And I believe that’s breakfast knocking at the door, if you’re interested.”
She nodded and crawled to her feet, then went to stand with her back against the fire. The servants Acair let in were quick about their work of laying things out on the table near where she stood, and Acair was equally swift at inviting them to leave. She poured tea for them both, but managed only a sip or two before she found she couldn’t choke down any more.
She sat, though, because she thought she might manage not to drop anything if she were closer to the table than standing would have put her. Acair made substantial inroads into finishing what was there. She had noticed him scrutinizing things for what she assumed were spells or poisons, but apparently he hadn’t found either.
“Will he come inside here?” she asked, when she thought she couldn’t hold onto the question any longer.
Acair shook his head. “He can’t have what he wants if we’re dead.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“Unfortunately, that’s because ’tis true.” He set aside his cup. “Do you have your coins?”