“What did you say?”
“Those spots of shadow,” she said slowly. “They steal souls, just as that spell supposedly does.”
Acair was happy to be sitting down. He felt Léirsinn’s arm tighten around him, which he had to admit he appreciated for more than just the gesture of affection.
If those two things were connected, if he could find the mage using that spell to create shadows to steal souls... well, then the mystery would be solved. Repairing the damage already done would likely be a dodgy business, but perhaps he was more prepared for that than he suspected. His mother had advised him tocollect bits of his own lost soul, so perhaps helping others to do the same wouldn’t be all that hard.
Do-gooding. It was becoming a bad habit.
He rested his head against Léirsinn’s, choosing to ignore her trembling, and considered the state of affairs in his life.
Spots of shadow, mages speaking in shards of metal, a prince of Neroche who might possibly be slain, and a spell dogging his steps that left him unable to defend himself were one thing. A woman he loved—there was no point in denying it any longer—now having magic she would no doubt come to regret having asked for, and no magic himself whilst his path led to a place where, he had to admit, he likely wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself from dipping into the family coffers?
Impossible.
He looked at Soilléir. “Did you bring anything to eat?”
“I might have, but I’m not sure you’ll have much time for a leisurely supper. You’ve distracted your friend over there in the clearing and I’ve given him a bit more to think about, but I sense that he’s shaking off our spells.”
“What of Mansourah?” Léirsinn asked.
Acair felt a pang in the vicinity of his heart. He looked at Soilléir.
“I cannot aid him,” he said, finding it very difficult to get the words past his gritted teeth. “He deserves better.”
Soilléir hesitated, closed his eyes briefly, then looked at them both. He pulled a pack out of nothing and held it out.
“Eat on the fly,” he said, “though I would keep to your feet until you’re deeper in the forest. I will do what I can for you here to purchase you a bit of time to flee. I will also do what I can for the prince.”
Acair supposed that was the best they were going to get. Healso rose and took the pack because he was above all a pragmatist. He didn’t waste time asking Soilléir if he couldn’t just see to the whole damned thing himself because the very last thing he thought he could stomach at the moment was a lengthy lecture on allowing the world to turn as it wanted to without interference.
Damn it, there were evil things afoot. Why those didn’t merit a bit of attention from that lad there...
It was obvious he would have to see to it himself, as usual.
“Thank you for the supper,” Acair said. “Miach will appreciate your rescuing his brother, I’m certain. I’ll be off to see to your dirty work for you.”
Soilléir only lifted his eyebrows briefly and smiled.
Acair took Léirsinn by the hand and pulled her to her feet. He didn’t stop her from embracing Soilléir briefly, though he would have preferred she use the proximity as an excuse to slip a dagger between the man’s ribs. He shot his taskmaster a glare on principle, whistled softly for his horse, then started off into the darkness with his lady.
He had the distinct feeling he was putting his foot to a path that wouldn’t lead to places he wanted to go, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.
He was starting to wish itwere.
Nineteen
Léirsinn stumbled along behind Acair as he walked swiftly along a path she couldn’t see, trusting that he wouldn’t run her into anything. She had her hand on his back, which perhaps wasn’t the most comfortable way to walk, but it helped her stay on her feet.
The chill on her face was bitter, but that helped her stay on her feet as well. The cloak the witchwoman of Fàs had given her kept her warm, but that also might have come from the fact that she was ablaze with a fever that she was fairly certain hadn’t come from being close to anyone who had sneezed.
She tried to ignore the truth for a bit, but the truth was, she was beyond weary. What she wanted most of all was somewhere safe to sleep. It didn’t matter to her if that safe place was a witch’s hearth, a king’s guest chamber, or a patch of ground under astarlit sky with a dragon keeping her feet warm and a prince of Neroche’s spells keeping her from dying—
A prince of Neroche who might be dead.
She turned her mind abruptly away from that thought but all that did was leave her facing other thoughts she cared for even less. The last few words Acair had exchanged with Soilléir when he’d thought she wasn’t listening were burned into her memory.
She cannot fight him and you’re daft if you think I’ll allow her to try.
