assurances of his presence—and Sarah’s in spite of how hard she elbowed him in the ribs—at a meal befitting his exalted station a pair of hours hence, then escaped into Soilléir’s chamber happily and looked at Rùnach who shut the door behind him.
“What a collection of imbeciles.”
Rùnach laughed. “Grandfather would agree, of course.”
Ruith reached for Sarah’s hand only to find her with both hers firmly clasped behind her back. He frowned at her. “What is it?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“What—oh, that.” He shrugged. “’Tis simply a meal.”
“Which you’ll enjoy on your own, Your Highness,” she said briskly. “I have other things to do.”
He was tempted to fight her, but he had the feeling he would be wise not to. That she had come back inside the keep was a large concession on her part. Being willing to continue on a quest he was certain terrified her to the core was something that would leave him in her debt for quite some time to come.
Besides, the necessity of being polite would be a misery. She would be miserable surrounded by curious eyes, and since one of those pairs of eyes would likely be Droch’s, there were at least three good reasons for her to remain safely out of sight.
He folded his arms over his chest. “If I leave you behind, I want you to remain inside the chamber where you’ll be protected by Soilléir’s spells.”
“Gladly,” she muttered.
“And,” he said, because apparently he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “the next time we’re summoned to a torturous function such as what I’m about to be subjected to, you will come along.”
She glared at him. “Twelve.”
“Ten,” he said firmly. “And you may have three.”
She blinked. “Three whats?”
“Three instances where you beg off from a formal meal. You’ve just used one.”
Her mouth fell open, but she shut it soon enough. “I need to weave. And I want ten as well.”
“Three.”
She glared at him. “Are we to spend the entire morning haggling?”
“Nay, I agreed to ten, you’ll agree to three. Which is now two.”
Rùnach laughed, a hoarse sound that was nonetheless full of good humor, and walked away. Ruith folded his arms and looked down at Sarah. “Well?”
“I’m humoring you,” she warned.
“Done.” He found her hand, took it in his own, then pulled her across the solar to find Soilléir sitting in front of his fire, looking perfectly at peace.
Ruith found Sarah a chair, saw her seated with a cup of wine at her elbow, then sat down and fixed Soilléir with a pointed look.
“Droch said Miach was here recently.”
“Had a little chat over tea, did you?” Soilléir asked mildly.
“Don’t make me do damage to you, my lord,” Ruith warned.
Soilléir smiled. “Perish the thought. And aye, Miach was here recently.”
“With Mhorghain.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soilléir said with a discreet yawn. “But I see you’ve made a few changes in yourself since last we spoke.”
“Thank you for the spell this morning,” Ruith said shortly, “and aye, I have stopped being a fool and embraced what I am, so thank you for that as well, and what is this about my sister!”
He realized he was very close to shouting, but perhaps he could be forgiven for it considering the circumstances.
Soilléir looked at Sarah. “How are you, my dear?”
“Unable to protect you against him,” Sarah said, a smile in her voice. “He’s had a long winter so far, my lord, and I’m not sure he slept well last night, so perhaps you shouldn’t torment him anymore.”
“Wise,” Ruith added shortly. “So I beg you, my lord Soilléir, please do me the favor of telling me what you obviously knew and couldn’t see your way clear to telling me before.”
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed the tidings before,” Soilléir said with a shrug, then held up his hand quickly. “Nay, do not growl at me, Ruithneadh. I’ll tell you the details that are mine to give. Your sister is indeed alive and well. She’s with Sìle and Sosar.”
Ruith could hardly believe it, but Soilléir never lied, and his own ears worked perfectly well. “Is she at Seanagarra, then?”
“I didn’t say that,” Soilléir said, “and you won’t care for some of what I am about to say, so hand your knives to your lady—”
“Comrade in arms,” Sarah corrected without hesitation.
Soilléir smiled at her. “Take his blades away from him, Sarah, before he loses control during the tale and uses me for a handy place to stow them.”
Ruith handed Sarah his knives only because he thought it might purchase him a bit more time