The Dreamer's Song (Nine Kingdoms #11)

That was, she admitted freely, why she found herself where she was with the task that was set before her, namely keeping an eye out for shadows lying on the ground. Not just any sorts of shadows, of course, such as might have been made by ordinary people standing just so against the sun, or the odd planter placed just outside a pub door to catch whatever light might be had. Nay, the shadows she was meant to be looking for were created by magic.

It was daft, of course, something she continued to tell herself because it allowed her to continue to breathe normally. She absolutely refused to admit that she might or might not have had her own unsettling experience with those spots of shadow where shadows shouldn’t be found. With any luck, while about her looking she might manage to stumble over her missing wits.

She didn’t hold out much hope for it.

“I think we’d best be off looking for that hapless prince of Neroche before he finds himself entangled in some madness or other,” Acair said heavily. “He is definitely not the brightest flame that family has produced.”

“He seems chivalrous enough,” she offered.

“The man might know how to offer an arm at the right time,” Acair conceded, “but that is the absolute limit of his gifts. I’d avoid him at all costs, were I you.”

“What did he do to irritate you so?”

Acair reached for her hand and looked briefly both up and down the way before he pulled her into the crowd. “I would give you a list, but there is the lad himself. One can only hope he’s found somewhere suitable for us to sleep tonight.”

She supposed her standards for lodging were far below what either of her companions might consider acceptable because at the moment all she wanted was somewhere flat and unmoving to cast herself.

“Finally,” Prince Mansourah said in disbelief, stopping in front of them and causing several passersby to hurl curses at him. “Where have you been?”

“Waiting for you where we agreed to wait for you,” Acair said with exaggerated politeness, “and all the while holding out a desperate hope that you would take a set of chambers somewhere discreet.”

Mansourah glared at him. “I did, and I paid for them in local currency so as not to attract any notice.”

“Then my skepticism is quite happily allayed,” Acair said, “though I doubt that will last for long. Lead on and pray assure me there is a decent pub nearby as well.”

“There is, though if I had any sense I would leave you scrambling to wash platters in return for your meal instead of putting myself out to pay for your breakfast myself.”

Acair favored Mansourah with a look that Léirsinn imagined had sent more than one nobleman’s butler scurrying for cover.

“I have coin enough,” he said coolly. “Whilst I am not at my liberty to fill my own purse, my half-sister, your brother’s thoughtful wife, was kind enough to do it for me, so please don’t concern yourself about my poor tum. I have sufficient for myself and my lady without ruining my hands.”

Mansourah pursed his lips. “Then your delicate fingers are safe for the moment, I suppose. Follow me and we’ll see ourselves settled first.”

Léirsinn was fairly certain Acair had made some sort of less-than-polite comment about Mansourah’s tendency to find himself lost in the weeds while about any sort of meaningful quest, but she decided to let it pass. The sooner she could escape the press of city-dwellers getting on with their business for the day, the happier she would be. She glanced at Acair as they walked.

“How do you feed yourself?” she asked. “If that isn’t too personal a question.”

He shook his head. “My life is an open book, as they say. I mostly manage to find myself invited to supper at one superior table or another, which keeps me from starving. When I require funds, I go about acquiring them in the usual way.”

She looked at him sternly. “If you use the word I can scarce bear to utter, I will do damage to you.”

“Magic can be fairly useful,” he said with a smile, “when you think about it.”

She wasn’t about to dignify that with any sort of response, not that there would have been a decent response for it. That happy time when she had lived her life blissfully unaware of anything but the rich smells of green grass, steaming oats, and freshly baled hay was gone. Being something just short of an indentured servant in her uncle’s stables had been difficult, but there had been a certain peace that had come with living in such innocence. Things of a troubling and capricious nature had been easily relegated to her imagination while the tales her parents had told her in her childhood had been consigned to fanciful imaginings with equal ease.

Now, though, a being once relegated to her imagination was walking beside her, muttering under his breath about peasants, princes, and the condition of the boots he was wearing that were most definitely not his own.

A black mage who used magic as easily as she drew breath.

Well, not of late, but he certainly seemed to be familiar with the stuff. As for anything else, she wasn’t entirely sure what to think. She kept count of the frisky lads that same black mage sent scampering off with either a warning look or a quick shove and reminded herself of all the reasons she had not to believe a damned thing anyone had said about him. His reputation was awful, true, but his manners were impeccable, he wasn’t afraid to shovel a substantial bit of manure in return for having the privilege of riding a spectacular horse or two, and he had never once in all the time she’d known him worked even the simplest spell.

She refused to bring to mind what she had seen of him, how she’d seen him, when she’d been standing in a particular spot of shadow that shouldn’t have existed outside her nightmares, all found within the king of Neroche’s garden.

It occurred to her with a bit of a start that she hadn’t seen a damned one of those shadows so far that morning.

That was odd.

She realized Mansourah had come to a halt only because she’d run into Acair’s outstretched arm. She looked at the rather rustic door there in front of them and hoped she wasn’t about to enter a place she wouldn’t be able to get back out of easily.

“Here?” Acair asked in disbelief.

“Have you never stayed here before?” Mansourah asked.

“Well of course I’ve stayed here before,” Acair answered shortly, “when I wanted everyone in the city to know I’d arrived!”

“The innkeeper is capable of discretion,” Mansourah said smoothly, “though I generally find it difficult to hide my identity in spite of that.” He looked down his nose at Acair. “The trials of noble blood and all that. And before you wring your hands overmuch, all they know is that I took rooms for myself, my affianced lady of quality, and you, my very silent and witless servant.”

Léirsinn would have smiled, but she wasn’t at all sure that Acair wouldn’t strangle Mansourah right there in the street. He took a deep, careful breath, then gave their companion a look that Léirsinn was half surprised didn’t have the prince blurting out an apology.

“When I am again sailing under my own power,” he said seriously, “you had best find somewhere to hide.”

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