“He doesn’t vex me,” she managed.
“Then you can defend my abused honor,” he said. “Or you can instruct him in the proper way to attempt a duel. Were you not witness to that childish display in the garden earlier this afternoon? I was embarrassed to be a part of it. Now, if we could just ease to our right a bit, I imagine we’ll be able to hop right down to the ground. Perhaps we’ll take a moment or two and examine this afternoon’s battlefield, just to see how consistently our companion was forced to retreat.”
He continued to babble in something just above a whisper, mostly in an effort to distract her. He stopped speaking when she glared at him, but perhaps that had been just the thing she needed. She took a deep breath, then inched her way over to that bit of something protruding from the side of the building that might have charitably been called an awning. It wasn’t that the overhang was poorly made, it simply wasn’t terribly large.
“I am here alone I tell you!”
Acair froze, grateful that he and Léirsinn were far enough away from where Mansourah was hanging out the window that they hopefully wouldn’t be seen. He breathed lightly, listening to that hapless prince of Neroche trying to talk his way out of getting himself thrown into the king’s dungeon.
Acair rolled his eyes in despair. That one there was altogether too accustomed to waving his title about to get himself out of trouble. Obviously lessons were needed in the fine art of prevarication necessary to save one’s sorry arse when faced with guards carrying swords.
Time crawled by. He didn’t dare move, particularly after he heard the innkeeper directly beneath him arguing with the lad who was seemingly the captain of the detail sent out to search for the thief who had broken into the king’s private solar and taken one of his treasures.
Acair shook his head. Only one? Simeon was terrible at sums. He’d pinched at least three things earlier that night that he could bring to mind without effort, mostly in repayment for the way he’d caught the king looking at Léirsinn. Having perfected the art of peering over the backs of sofas whilst remaining unobserved himself had obviously been time well spent.
More time passed more slowly than he would have liked, but the voices below finally faded as the innkeeper and his late-night visitor went back inside. He eased past Léirsinn, then tested the awning for sturdiness. He had definitely seen worse, so he left Léirsinn sitting on the edge before he swung down to the ground. The threat of death always tended to leave him feeling rather spry, so after congratulating himself on not landing on an upturned rake left lying where a pile of snow had covered it, he turned his mind to coaxing Léirsinn down from the roof.
He couldn’t fault her for being cautious. He tended to rush forward into things because he enjoyed the looks of astonished dismay he generally received thanks to that sort of thing, but he’d always had magic to fall back on if things went awry.
He was starting to understand why the average bloke spent such an inordinate amount of time down at the pub.
“Just jump,” he said finally, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt. Exasperated was better than alarmed, he supposed, and he was alarmed enough without any help.
She jumped. He caught her—barely. If he held her in his arms perhaps a moment or two longer than necessary, well, who could fault him for it? The only thing he appreciated more than a finely wrought spell was a beautifully fashioned woman.
“Let go of me, you lecher.”
He patted her back, then released her from his embrace. “Just trying to keep you warm.”
Her teeth were chattering. That might have come from fear, which he doubted, or the bitter cold, which seemed more likely. He rubbed her arms briskly, wishing he’d had the luxury of conjuring up a hot fire by which they could take their ease. Unfortunately, things were as they were and he had made do with much less in the past. He imagined Léirsinn had as well.
“Where to now?” she whispered. “I’m assuming we’re not going back to our chamber.”
“I’m actually planning a quick visit to my tailor, if you don’t mind.”
She looked at him as if she couldn’t decide between complimenting him or stabbing him. He wasn’t unaccustomed to that sort of look, though, so he carried on with getting them out of the garden by way of a gate disguising itself as part of a shrubbery. He pulled it shut behind them, then looked at her.
“Stay right with me,” he advised.
“And miss out on more of this glorious adventure if I don’t?” she said, looking as if she might rather be doing exactly that. “You must be mad.”
He smiled briefly, because she was spectacular and full of good cheer even under adverse conditions. She was also shivering so badly, he was half tempted to strip off his cloak and put it on her. Because he knew that would leave any stray females walking the streets so late swooning at the sight, he decided they would simply have to resort to a hasty trot along back alleyways. He took Léirsinn’s icy hand in his and concentrated on not getting them captured.
Running was, he supposed after a half-hours’ worth of the same through places he might have hesitated to go alone but necessity left him with no choice but to pass through with an innocent horse miss in tow, at least a decent way to warm up. He found an empty doorway and pulled Léirsinn into it. He wrapped his arms around her—an altruistic and definitely not self-serving gesture—and waited until a burly night watchman had passed them by before he allowed himself to breathe easily.
“Was that a palace guard?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Just a regular lad making the rounds of his neighborhood, doubtless keeping his eyes peeled for black mages and their fire-breathing companions.”
She might have huffed a bit of a laugh or she might have simply been wheezing from the cold. The weather was typical for that time of year and location but not terribly pleasant when one was enjoying it not from a choice spot in front of a roaring fire.
“Why did they send guards after us—after you, rather—or do I need to ask?”
He shifted so he could keep his eyes peeled for miscreants while still keeping Léirsinn shielded from as much of the icy breath of wind as possible.
“’Tis possible that my activities earlier this evening included liberating a collection of kingly scribblings and stuffing them into the waistband of my trousers,” he whispered. “I refuse to admit to anything else which may or may not have happened as an intended insult to someone I might or might not have, as my mother is wont to say, done dirty in the past.”
She sighed deeply. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Your confidence in my ability to stir up trouble is gratifying,” he said. “There is more to the tale, of course, but I’m not sure now is the proper place to relate the particulars. Let’s just say that Simeon and I made a bargain last year and there were a few loose ends remaining.”