His eyes were rather more bloodshot than they had been a handful of moments before. He was also seemingly speechless, which she imagined might have been a first for him.
“The fireplace smokes,” she offered.
He cleared his throat roughly. “I’ll be sure to pen a sharply worded complaint when I can toddle off to His Majesty’s solar for ink and parchment.”
She imagined he just might. She gathered up what she’d used, carried it all to the far side of the room where neither of them would have to look at it, then returned to sit on the side of her bed. She would have offered Acair her spot, but she had the feeling he wouldn’t take it. A gentleman to the last.
“So,” she said, “how did this all come about? I don’t know if I’m more surprised to see you here or find myself here instead of winding up downstairs myself.”
He settled back against his chair and sighed deeply. “I believe His Majesty is a little unnerved by your ability to burn things down and feared to anger you further.”
“Surely not,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “Though I’ll admit I did lose my temper.”
He smiled faintly. “I’ll choose discretion and refrain from making any comment about the color of your hair and what, if anything, that might indicate.”
She would have glared at him, but she was honestly too unsettled by her actions to do anything but wish she hadn’t been responsible for them. She had always prided herself on being in control at all times. It was part of what made her a good horsewoman, never mind keeping her alive when she would rather have told her uncle to go to hell.
With the king, though, she’d been overcome by a fury that perhaps exceeded what his flat refusal to release Acair should have warranted. She’d reached for a spell of fire-making Acair had insisted that she learn, confident that since it had come from him, it would have a bit of nastiness attached.
Certain that that would leave the right impression, she’d spat it out in the king’s direction with a ferocity that would have alarmed her if she’d been able to think past the flames that had burned inside her—and apparently outside her as well. It would have been easier to believe she had memorized the spell amiss, but the truth was, it had gotten away from her in a way no bolting stallion ever had.
She found that she couldn’t remember anything after that. Whether she had fainted because a guard had clunked her over the head with a sword hilt or she’d been overcome by the very foreign and unwelcome power that had rushed through her, she simply didn’t know.
What she did know was that she wasn’t sure she had any idea who she was any longer.
“We could talk about this, you know.”
She pulled herself back to the present moment. “I don’t want to.”
“I mean—”
“I know what you meant.”
He simply watched her in a way that was so reminiscent of the way his mother studied people, she almost flinched.
“Stop that,” she said crossly.
“Can’t help myself,” he said with a shrug. “I like to look at you.”
“You’re not looking,” she said, “you’re coming to conclusions. There’s a difference.”
“There might be, but I’m honestly too tired to decide what that might be. I’ll settle for simply looking at your fetching self without making any judgments.”
She supposed she couldn’t argue with that. She also imagined he didn’t need to be told that he looked so thoroughly exhausted, she was half surprised he wasn’t senseless on the floor. It was perhaps the worst thing she’d seen in days upon days of terrible things. Even in the dodgiest of locales while about the most dangerous activities, he had only ever looked as if he were on the verge of chortling before casting himself enthusiastically back into the fray.
Perhaps there had been a slow, reluctant march toward more serious expressions and viler curses, but in his defense, he’d been running from a mage of terrifying power he couldn’t defend either of them against. The price for simply eluding that mage long enough to allow them both to escape had been very high.
“You should take the bed,” she said. “You need it more than I do.”
He shook his head. “The king would definitely slay me for daring the same, not that I would think to anyway. I’ll pull up a scrap of floor later and be quite content.”
“Then food, at least.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “That would be very kind, thank you.”
Weariness had also made him terribly polite. She rose, then walked over to the little table that stood under the window and sported a tray laden with tea and biscuits. She poured two cups of tea and carried them back across the room. Acair accepted one, though he didn’t drink. She fetched a plate of biscuits and sat down on the bed, prepared to hand one to him when he looked like he could manage it. He still hadn’t touched his tea.
“Not good?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet. I think I might put it aside for now.”
She caught his cup before he dropped it, then set it on the night stand for him. She took her time resuming her spot and wondered if perhaps waking the king’s physick would be wise.
“I’m concerned,” she said frankly.
“All I need is another hour or two of sleep, then I’ll be back to my old self.” He rubbed his eyes with marginally clean fingers, then shook his head sharply. “Let’s talk about you instead.”
She applied herself to her own tea until there was no more, then set her cup down next to Acair’s and looked for something else to use as a distraction.
“Lovely weather we’re having,” she noted.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together as if they ached. “It might be, but it has absolutely nothing to do with that other thing we need to discuss.” His expression was very grave. “We’ll have to eventually, you know.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I’m very persistent.”
That was true, but she thought that with enough effort she might be able to avoid the conversation completely.
After all, what was there to discuss? ’Twas bad enough that she had set aside her good sense and pride as she’d sat with him on the other side of his invisible but very functional dungeon door and attempted to memorize a few spells. The business of spewing out words into thin air and trying to convince herself there was anything but embarrassment to follow was naught but foolishness—and fraught with peril, as she had proven recently not only to herself but the king outside in his courtyard.