Cruihniche gave her another slightly alarmed look, then turned her sights back on her grandson.
“What is that other thing there?” she asked faintly.
“It is a spell,” Acair said, “with nefarious intentions at the ready. Never fear, Grandmother, it has its sights only upon me, your humble and penitent scrap of progeny.”
His grandmother considered that for a moment or two, then straightened her shoulders and pointed at Acair.
“Grandson, fetch the tea table,” she said, seemingly laying hold on her strength. She shot Léirsinn another look, then shook her head and walked back over to the doorway. She bellowed down the hallway for refreshments to be provided, then slammed the door shut.
Léirsinn didn’t want to know what those refreshments might entail, but as long as servants were delivering food and drink instead of chains and locks, she was happy to help Acair carry tea things over to a spot in front of the fire. She waited with himuntil his grandmother had arranged things to her liking, trying not to be too obvious about eyeing what foodstuffs were brought in and laid out. They didn’t look lethal, but what did she know? She was in the inner solar of a witch, and she had no means of escape save her own two feet. She didn’t think that boded well for her longevity.
“Sit,” Cruihniche commanded. “We’ll discuss your offenses after we’ve had a nibble and a sip.”
Léirsinn sat where invited and tried to look as trustworthy as possible. She had the feeling she had quite a substantial amount of her companion’s lack to make up for.
Cruihniche of Fàs—whatever title she preferred, though Léirsinn thought it best to just call herMa’amand leave it at that—manned the teapot. Biscuits were provided, other delicate edibles placed just so, and whisky and rum were set well within reach.
Cruihniche shot Acair a steely glance. “Tea or strong drink?”
“Both, Grandmother, if you please.”
Léirsinn sat up a bit straighter and wished for boots and a cloak that weren’t so muddy when Acair’s grandmother turned that same sharp glance on her.
“And you, my wee horse miss?”
Léirsinn started to ask the woman how in the world she would know anything at all about her past, then decided it was probably best not to know. It made her uneasy to think how often she’d made that same decision over the past fortnight, but perhaps with time it would grow easier.
“Whatever suits you, my lady,” she managed.
“Harrumph,” Cruihniche said, but poured just the same. She sipped at her own strengthening concoction for a moment or two, then set it aside and looked at Acair. “Surrender the book, grandson.”
“But—”
“Now,” she insisted. “Before I rip your arms off to have it back.”
Léirsinn caught herself before she indulged in not only a look of astonishment but a hearty gasp. Acair’s mother had been rather blunt, or so it had seemed to her. She had no idea what to call his grandmother.
Acair looked horribly torn. “Words cannot possibly express the marvelous and unique nature of this tome—”
“Which is why it was in my private and quite hidden cubby,” Cruihniche said sharply, “not out in the open where any fool could pick it up and finger it. When, Acair, will you learn not to nose about in business that is not your own?”
He smiled a small, mischievous smile that should have felled every soul within a half-league radius. Léirsinn reminded herself that she continued to put up a decent defense against his charm with varying degrees of success, but that smile there was powerful stuff indeed. She had to tuck her hands under her thighs to keep from fanning herself, something she had never once in the whole of her life been tempted to do. Acair’s grandmother, however, seemed utterly unmoved by the sight.
“Reprehensible attempt,” Cruihniche said shortly.
“But, Grandmother,” Acair said smoothly, “how am I to stop myself when the prize is so—how shall we term it?”
“Unattainable?”
“Iamholding on to the book,” Acair pointed out.
“Temporarily and only because I’m seeing how far out on the proverbial limb you’ll go before you realize you’ve gone too far,” she said.
“Curiosity is my worst failing,” he admitted.
Léirsinn appreciated his attempt at honesty. She didn’t thinkhis grandmother was equally impressed, but it was, after all, Cruihniche’s solar that Acair was invading.
His grandmother grunted at him. “Curiosity is your worst failing? When there are so many contenders for that spot, that is the trait you choose? I think I have a far different opinion.” She looked at him pointedly. “Book.”
