She swept out of the chamber and jerked the door closed behind her.
Ruith walked immediately over to the case. Sarah could only watch him, numb, as he picked the lock with an adroitness she might have admired another time. The prince consort had been staring into the fire, but when the hinges on the glass squeaked, he whirled around, his mouth open.
He watched for a moment or two, then shut his mouth.
Sarah could still see Ruith, perhaps only because she could see, but obviously Phillip could not. Until, rather, Ruith dissolved his spell of un-noticing. He locked gazes with the prince as he rolled up the spell and stuck it down his boot. Phillip looked around him in surprise—presumably for her, but she was apparently too well hidden by Ruith’s spell. Sarah supposed that was just as well. She knew she must have looked like death.
She certainly felt like it.
Ruith continued to look at Phillip. “I have a spell for you, Your Highness.”
“What sort—” Phillip licked his lips nervously. “What sort of spell, Prince Ruithneadh?”
“A spell of protection,” Ruith said quietly. “I don’t know if you have the power to use it, but you could certainly try.”
“I’ll stretch myself.”
“That might be wise.”
Sarah listened to him give Phillip the spell, watched the prince consort attempt to use it—badly—then watched Ruith nod briskly at him. He pulled his spell of un-noticing over himself again and walked swiftly toward her.
“Let’s go.”
She’d hardly gotten halfway across the chamber with him before the door burst open again and guards spilled inside.
Ruith took her by the arm—her right arm, unfortunately. She almost fainted from the pain.
“We’ll need to shapechange,” he whispered harshly.
She gaped at him. “But I cannot—”
“Trust me.”
The next thing she knew, she was running along behind him, hugging the wall and praying no one would step on her very long tail. Either Ruith had chosen their colors well, or the guards were simply too busy shouting at each other to notice two plain brown mice skittering along underfoot. Sarah found herself almost felled by the unaccustomed smells assaulting her nose alone, but she ignored them and pressed on until she and Ruith were at her door.
Guards were there, trying to get past not only the lock but Ruith’s spell he’d covered both the inside and outside of the door with. He paused so suddenly that Sarah ran up his back before she realized what she was doing.
We’ ll need to change again. His voice whispered across her mind.
I can’t—
We’ll try air this time.
She was going to kill him. If she ever had hands again, she was going to find some slow, painful, unpleasant way to do him in. She tried to concentrate on that, but it was too difficult. She found herself somehow wrapped up in Ruith as he pulled her under his spell and through the doorway with him.
She regrouped—or was regrouped, as it were—near enough to the fire that she was a little surprised she hadn’t rolled right into it. Ruith materialized out of thin air and went sprawling half over her.
“Get off me,” she squeaked, because squeaking was all she could manage. She patted herself frantically and was very relieved to find she was herself and not something for which squeaking might come more naturally.
Ruith conjured up a cloak and pulled it over her, sending sparks flying. He looked down at her, his eyes full of wildness. It was mageish delight at becoming something he wasn’t, no doubt.
“I have to go,” he said, sounding a little breathless. “I’ll be outside before they manage to get through my spell. Feign ignorance.”
She had every intention of doing just that. She looked up at him. “I think I’m going to be ill.”
“Puke on Morag.”
“You, sir, have absolutely no compassion for the unmagical.”
He bent his head, kissed her cheek—rather near her mouth, actually—then pulled away. She caught him before he could get to his feet.
“Don’t ever do that again, damn you,” she warned. “You turned me into a mouse!”
He smiled at her. “And the breath of air?”
“I still feel scattered.”
“I understand, believe me,” he said with a bit of a laugh. He pushed himself to his feet. “Hold them off as long as you can.”
And with that, he disappeared.
She cursed him again but had to clap her hand over her mouth. She lay on the floor, feeling truly very ill, and listened to the pounding on the door continue.
“Coming,” she called weakly.
There was a sudden silence. Sarah knew without being told that Morag was now