“She will embrace me like the long-lost grandson I am and shower me with accolades and kisses.” He paused. “Or she might send minions.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You wouldn’t like the look of it either, which is why we shall nip in and out without any trace of our having been there.” He reached for her hand. “We’ll try the back entrance. No one ever uses it.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
He smiled briefly. “The minions are more terrifying there, of course. To me, that makes the success of slipping by their snoring selves all the sweeter.”
“Of course.”
She watched a squirrel scamper up a tree, then turn and chirp at them. It was as he spat out a bit of fire that she realized it was Acair’s horse. Well, he seemed to be settling in for the duration, which she supposed was all she could ask. She looked at him pointedly before she walked away with Acair, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time she saw the damned beast. It wasn’t as if either of them had magic enough to fly off under their own power.
Magic. What a ridiculous business.
She was beginning to see, though, why someone might want a bit of it.
The forest was still and the air so cold she was almost certain she could hear her breath as it fell softly to the ground. What she did know with absolute certainty was that she was having no trouble seeing the spell that lay draped over the trees they walked under. She would have mentioned it to Acair, but she had the feeling he had enough to think about at present. The silence wasn’t helping her keep her fear in check, though, so she castabout for a topic that didn’t involve things she shouldn’t have been able to see.
“Can you tell me about her?” she asked. She looked at him quickly. “Your grandmother, I mean.”
“Of course,” he said easily. “She is Cruihniche of Fàs, that being the name of the land we’re crossing, and I don’t think it much of an exaggeration to say she is one of the more terrifying souls I’ve encountered in my very long life.”
“Is she worse than your mother and your aunt?” she asked.
He looked as if he couldn’t decide if he should laugh or shiver. “My grandmother...” He shook his head. “She defies decent description, though I could start by telling you everything she is, then a bit of what she is not.”
“I can scarce wait.”
“You say that now,” he agreed, “but tell me what you think after I make my list. What sheisis a small, elegant woman, well-spoken, and old as the hills. She has a very long dining table that is endlessly filled by royalty, nobility, and hangers-on who wait months for the opportunity to take a seat. Her chef is beyond compare, her wine-steward without peer, and I’ve heard but never verified personally that she has wee faeries tending a greenhouse full of herbs and flowers used for beautifying delicate ices and cakes.”
Léirsinn smiled. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“I’ve barely left the gates, if you know what I mean. What she isnotis kind, merciful, welcoming, or lacking spells that send shivers of dismay down the spines of any number of rulers in the world.”
“Does she use them?” Léirsinn asked, then shook her head. “Ignore that, mostly because I can’t believe I’ve asked that.”
He smiled briefly. “You’ve resigned yourself to the realities ofseveral things with a marked lack of grumbling, something I’m sure my mother made note of. My grandmother isn’t opposed to using spells, but she’s as spare with their use as she is with the amount of tea she’ll put in a pot to steep for family. Weak stuff indeed.”
“Stingy or uninterested?”
“Choosey,” he said. “She’s as up to her elbows in foul deeds as the rest of us, but that tends to be overlooked in deference to the exclusivity of her salon. Or so it has been in the past.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I’m beginning to think I’ve been too preoccupied with my own mischief to take the time to truly appreciate her accomplishments.”
“Tell me again why we aren’t going to the front door and knocking?”
He shot her an uncomfortable look. “I might have, as they say, nicked a knickknack or two.”
She felt her mouth fall open. “You stole from your owngrandmother?”
“It was retaliation for her having criticized one of my favorite cravats,” he said promptly. “I took exception to her comments, perhaps a bit too loudly, which left her chasing me from her solar, then sending minions after me over her spike-topped wall. The hastiness of my exit resulted in a great and rather embarrassing rent in my favorite trousers. Revenge was imperative.” He shrugged. “I will be forthcoming and say that one of her doilies was also the price for a particularly coveted seat at an extremely exclusive table.”
She could only gape at him. “You great whacking snob.”
“The supper was unparalleled.”
“As was, I’m sure, the company.”
“I fear I must agree.”
