She looked about for something else to dwell on and foundherself mentally trotting around in a circle and winding back up in about the same spot, only she realized her current unease didn’t come from the fact that she was consorting with those types of men out there, it came from the experiences she’d had in their company.
As she continued to feel compelled to remind herself, magic and all its accompanying ridiculousness was nothing more than what made up her parents’ most cherished nighttime tales.
It was a damned shame she couldn’t bring herself to believe that any longer.
Unfortunately, that had everything to do with what had befallen her while watching Acair fight off a different prince of Neroche but a pair of days earlier. She had seen things, and not just the sorts of things one might normally find loitering in a garden. She had been faced with a perfect view of what she had spent a lifetime believing couldn’t possibly exist.
She had seen magic.
Even the thought of that sort of thing possibly happening again was enough to leave her wanting to hop up and bolt back to her uncle’s barn where, though she might face her own demise, she absolutely wouldn’t encounter anything of a more otherworldly nature. She had to force herself to take several deep, steadying breaths to calm her racing heart, but it didn’t help all that much. It might have been easier, perhaps, to recapture her hold on a very normal, unmagical life if she hadn’t been watching the younger brother of a mage king and the bastard son of a different sort of mage prince go at each other with swords because they either didn’t care to or couldn’t use spells.
She was no coward, though, so she closed her eyes and thought back to that particular moment in Tor Neroche’s garden when she’d first encountered that otherworldly ability to see.There should have been nothing untoward in that garden save an untended vegetable patch or two, yet there seemingly had been. Stepping on a particular sort of spot on the ground had somehow sharpened her vision—or rendered her daft. At the moment, she wasn’t sure which it was. The simple truth was, she had stepped backward, apparently put her foot in a magic pool of shadow, and seen things—
She opened her eyes and squeaked.
Acair’s minder spell, the spell that was apparently tasked with slaying him should he use any magic, was sitting next to her on the bench. She shouldn’t have been able to see it, but there it was just the same. The damned thing had somehow taken the shadowy shape of a youth, slouching negligently on the stone next to her and watching its charge with a sullen tilt to its head. If spells could fashion themselves into something resembling a man, of course, which Léirsinn wanted to doubt.
Well, either it was a new shape for the beast or she was viewing it with clearer eyes than usual. She just knew she wasn’t about to ask it to lie on the ground in front of her so she could step on its belly as she’d stepped on that shadow in Tor Neroche and hopefully see things she shouldn’t have been able to—
Or perhaps she didn’t need a spell any longer.
She looked at Acair and Mansourah, fighting with the enthusiasm of men who wanted to do each other a goodly amount of damage, then closed her eyes. She willed herself not to see, but tosee, then opened her eyes again.
Mansourah and Acair were still in front of her, but she could see both of them.Seethem, rather, as if she’d been privy to an endless collection of pieces from their souls and what they were made from—
A squeaking distracted her. It occurred to her that she wasthe one making that sound, but she wasn’t sure how to stop it. She blinked and the vision vanished, but Acair’s minder spell was sitting as far away from her as possible, curled up into itself. She looked out into the garden to find Acair and Mansourah gaping at her.
She would have pointed out that she’d done nothing except use a formidable imagination she hadn’t known she’d possessed, but apparently no explanation was necessary. They looked at each other in consternation, then seemed to remember what they’d been about but a moment before. The renewed ringing of their swords was a happy distraction from what she couldn’t possibly have seen.
She looked about herself for anything else to concentrate on and jumped at the sight of the innkeeper standing a few feet from her. Damnation, would the urge to run never end? She had no idea how long he’d been there, but perhaps not long enough to watch her acting like a fool. She stood up and looked at him coolly, trying to imitate Acair at his most snobbish.
“Aye?” she asked, hoping her tone would take his mind off what he might or might not have just seen.
“A messenger arrived from the king.” He held out a gilt-edged missive. “For His Highness, the prince of Neroche.”
She took the folded sheaf of paper and tried not to look as much like a stable hand as she currently felt. “The prince seems to be quite occupied with his work over there, so I’ll let him know when he finishes.”
The innkeeper didn’t move. “I host many powerful men here, my lady.” He looked terribly torn. “I must say, Prince Mansourah’s servant bears an amazing resemblance to someone else I know.”
“He has that sort of face,” she said without hesitation, thoughshe held out absolutely no hope of putting the man off the scent. While Acair didn’t have a clue what to do with a pitchfork, he didn’t suffer the same problem with a sword. It was obvious he was no servant.
“He looks very much like Prince Gair, cousin to King Ehrne of Ainneamh,” the innkeeper continued relentlessly. He shot her a look. “Gair of Ceangail, as others might call him. A very elegant, powerful man, that one.”
“I’ve heard tales,” she said, though that perhaps wasn’t as true as she would have liked. She’d heard rumors about Gair’s evil, but she hadn’t wanted to delve more deeply into his tale lest she find something there she didn’t want to know. “I’m sure ’tis nothing more than a coincidence.”
The man looked at her carefully. “Lord Acair has been my guest here before, you know.”
She opened her mouth to attempt some other sort of diversion but found herself without a single thing to say to counteract that. She just looked at the innkeeper helplessly.
He smiled faintly. “Not to worry, my lady. I have a very exclusive list of lodgers and an ability to keep my mouth shut.”
“I’m sure those two out there appreciate both,” she managed.
The man glanced at the men hurling insults at each other, then smiled briefly at her. “They have both paid me handsomely for that discretion in the past. Not, I imagine, that either of them needs my aid.”
“You never know,” she said faintly.
The man lifted his eyebrows briefly, then inclined his head before he retreated slowly back inside.
