Sarah exchanged a look of her own with their guest, had a faint smile in return, then leaned close to Ruith. “I’m not sure you would want to, Your Highness, given that ’tis your future brother-in-law who sits across from you.”
Ruith’s mouth fell open. He continued to gape as supper was brought and new mugs of ale handed all around. Sarah watched as Mochriadhemiach of Neroche pushed his hood back off his head and smiled at her, ah, escort.
“Ruith,” he said, sounding both pleased and rather unsurprised to see him.
“Miach,” Ruith managed. His mouth worked for a moment or two, then he laughed a little. “I’m not sure if I want to kiss you or kill you.”
Miach smiled wryly, stood, then embraced Ruith and slapped him several times on the back before he released him and resumed his seat. “Now you need do neither. I’m starved and I’ve been traveling with your grandfather for the past night and day. Let us eat, then we’ll have speech together.”
“You’ve been traveling with my grandfather,” Ruith repeated in astonishment. “On foot?”
“As a very bitter, very terrible wind.”
“Elves do not shapechange.”
“Apparently they do, which is why he came along with me on this little journey to see how things in the world were progressing.”
“You are the last person I expected to see today,” Ruith managed, “here, of all places. And that has surprised me so thoroughly that I’ve forgotten my manners. Miach, this is my, er, friend, Sarah of—”
Sarah couldn’t bring herself to face what she’d fallen asleep to two days earlier, not even for the niceties of introductions. “Of nowhere in particular,” she said firmly.
Ruith smiled a very small smile. “For now, anyway. Sarah, this is Miach, the archmage of Neroche and apparently my sister’s bloody fiancé, though I still have things to say about that.” He shot Miach a dark look. “A princess of the house of Tòrr Dòrainn lowering herself to keep company with the youngest prince of that rustic hunting lodge in the mountains? ’Tis truly unthinkable.”
“So said your grandfather, more than once.”
Sarah cleared her throat carefully. “Actually, Ruith, he’s not the youngest prince anymore.”
Ruith looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“He’s not the youngest prince.” She looked at Miach and smiled apologetically. “The crown that hovers over you is too robust.”
Miach sipped his ale casually. “Your lady’s sight is very clear, Ruith. I would imagine she has that from very interesting sources.”
“What,” Ruith said in exasperation, “are you two talking about?”
Miach leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “That though she doesn’t want to admit it yet, I can plainly see she is the granddaughter of Franciscus of Cothromaiche, who is Léir’s first cousin once-removed. Or perhaps she doesn’t want that nosed about yet.”
“And you’re the bloody king of Neroche,” Sarah shot back, because he’d irritated it out of her, “which perhaps you didn’t want nosed about either.”
The king of Neroche only laughed and reached over to take her hand briefly. “Forgive me, lady. I fear I spent too much time with Soilléir in my youth.”
“Ripping the scab off the wound quickly?” she asked sourly.
“Sometimes, Your Highness, it is the only way.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said sharply, then shut her mouth abruptly. She attempted a smile, but when that failed, she settled for a deep breath or two. “Forgive me,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Miach doesn’t bruise easily,” Ruith said, shooting Miach a warning look, “but he does talk too much.”
Sarah wasn’t going to argue the point in a darkened tavern. She was happy to accept the king of Neroche’s apology, however, because he had a very lovely smile and she could see that he was sincere in not having wanted to cause her distress. She looked at Ruith, who was frowning at his childhood friend.
“Then Adhémar is dead?” he asked quietly.
“Unfortunately,” Miach said with a sigh.
“How do your brothers feel about your crushing them under your dainty heels on the way to the throne?” Ruith asked politely. “Are they still blubbering into their cups?”
Miach pursed his lips. “Cathar is vastly relieved not to be sitting in the most uncomfortable seat in the hall, though that shouldn’t come as a surprise. The rest are also vastly relieved, or so they say, save Rigaud, who is still raging about the injustice of it all and hiding my crown under his bed.”
Sarah watched Ruith’s mouth work for another moment or two before he looked at