From Darkness Won (12 page)

A stream of tears ran down Gypsum’s cheek. “Please, Vrella. I do not want to marry the man you love.”

“Then refuse. But until I see his heart set on Arman and not on a whim or on any pretty face that walks by, I will not give him my heart.”

“Rubbish.” Gypsum withdrew a handkerchief from the thread basket under her embroidery frame and dabbed her eyes. “You already have.”

“Maybe partly…” Vrell blinked away her own tears. “But not all of it. Which is why I cannot confess now. He would forgive me, then be sweet and charming and steal more of my heart no matter how I tried to keep it from him. And then he would turn to some tavern wench, and I would be destroyed. My heart is already weak. Staying away is my only defense.”

“But Mother speaks so highly of him. You truly believe he would play with your heart?”

“Not intentionally. He would be sincere at first. But it would not be long before temptation whisked him away. And even if he remained loyal and true all his days, he does not live for Arman. How can I—”

“Mother says he has met Arman.”

Vrell frowned, wishing it were so. “I cannot trust Mother’s word of late.”

“For shame, Averella! How can you say that? When has she ever deceived us?”

“Oh, you want to know…” But Vrell could not bring herself to destroy Gypsum’s good impression of Mother by telling her about Sir Eagan. “It is not your concern. Simply know that Mother will not make you marry anyone if you tell her your heart.”

“She is not making me marry anyone. She only suggested I think about it in case she is unable to change your mind. I do not think she intends to make a final decision until after this coming war.”

“Then we both have time to consider the situation.”

Gypsum picked up her needle. “I suppose. But I pray you make the right choice so I do not have to.”

5

Vrell looked down on the training fields from the top of Ryson Tower. The wind whipped her loose hair about her face as she watched the soldiers practice drills.

Achan’s shiny breastplate and Shung’s black armor made them stand out from the soldiers dressed in red. It reminded Vrell of when she used to watch her father, Duke Amal, train from this tower.

Tears flooded her eyes. The innocent memory had come so naturally. But the wave of sorrow, confusion, and guilt that followed nearly brought her to her knees.

Duke Amal, dear father he had been, was not her blood. Just as Carmine had never really been her home. Months of trying to get back, and this was the truth she now faced.

Where did she truly belong?

She swept down the spiral staircase, filled with such confusion and uncertainty. She pleaded with Arman to set it right. She knew better than to petition Him when she refused to obey. But she hoped Arman understood her heart. She barely understood it herself.

Vrell pushed through the secret door into Mother’s study and peeked out from behind the changing screen. The room was empty, so she went to the door, rang the bell, then stood at the window and looked out on the practice field again.

She had no intention of living a lie any longer. To be true to who she really was she had abandoned her birthright and sought out a place with Prince Oren and the Mârad. But he had refused her services as a healer—suggesting instead that she reconcile with her mother. As if it were that simple.

And now that Jax had refused to take her along, her last hope rested with her former fiancé, Bran Rennan. Their relationship had been strained since they had parted ways. He disliked her plan to serve the Mârad, but she hoped she could convince him to take her along to Armonguard.

She wanted—needed—to assist in this war. If she were on the battlefield, there was little chance she would run into Achan. He would be kept safe, protected by his guard. Months, maybe years, would pass before she saw him again. She hoped so, anyway, for she had promised Arman that when she did see him again, she would tell him the truth.

Bran could not refuse her. He had courted another woman while he and Vrell were engaged. That alone should indebt him a bit, should it not?

The door to Mother’s study swung inward, and Anillo entered. Mother’s steward was thin and old, but had bested men on the practice field as young as Vrell. “Yes, my lady?”

“Anillo, I require a visit with Master Rennan. Here, as soon as possible. It is an emergency.”

“Emergency, my lady?” he asked, his expression blank.

“Well… it is very important.”

“An emergency of great importance, then?”

“No, just that… Oh, well. Go on, then. That will do, thank you.”

“Of course, my lady.” Anillo bowed and left the room.

Vrell’s side ached. She wished it would heal quicker. She sat at Mother’s jade desk and let her thoughts drift. She grew tired of hiding from Achan. Of spying on him. She needed distance. The sooner the better. She did not wish to fulfill her promise to Arman anytime soon.

Fiery pain gripped her skull. She grasped the edge of Mother’s desk to keep her balance.

Your Highness?
Sir Caleb said. He was one of the knights who advised Achan.
Are you injured?

Achan’s mellow voice answered.
Sorry, Sir Caleb. Just a little experiment.

And the pain subsided.

Vrell released the desk, her breath shaky. An experiment? Merciful heart! Did he have to experiment in such a way that brought all bloodvoicers to their knees?

She rested her head on Mother’s desk and dozed off, until a knock sounded on the door. She sat up. “Yes?”

The door cracked open, and Anillo slipped inside. “Master Rennan has arrived, my lady.”

Vrell stood. “Thank you, Anillo. Please, show him in.”

Anillo bowed and pulled the door open. “Master Bran Rennan, my lady.”

Bran swept into the study, black boots clomping on the redwood floor. He looked a fright, face flushed and sweaty, hair matted to his forehead and cheeks. His Old Kingsguard uniform was wrinkled and dirty.

“Are you well, Master Rennan?”

“Yes, my lady. I’ve come directly from the practice fields. I was told it was an emergency.” His deep brown eyes regarded her, filled with concern that quickly led to impatience. “What, Averella? What is so urgent?”

She hesitated at his tone. If he was already angry, how would she obtain his help? She held her chin high, employing every ounce of her training as a future duchess, and gritted her teeth at her aching side. “I require your assistance, Master Rennan. I wish to journey south to Armonguard and would like to—”

“
This
is your emergency?”

“I require an escort.”

His mouth fell open. “I will
not
be your escort.”

She wilted. “I only wish to ride along. No pomp or protocol. No one need know. I will even dress as a boy to—”

“No,” Bran said. “You ask me to lie to Sir Rigil? To Jax? To Prince Oren? I beg you, stop this ridiculous plotting and go talk to the prince.”

She stifled a whimper. Was everyone against her? “I most certainly will not.”

Bran tipped his head back. “But why, my lady? He will be thrilled to discover that you are you.”

Would he? Vrell was not so certain. “I will not marry him.”

“Why ever not?”

“He does not follow Arman.”

“But he is Arman’s chosen—”

“Not good enough. Many a king has been
Arman’s chosen
. I recall not one truly righteous man among them.”

“You did not know the kings of old. Do not judge based on rumors of history.”

“My
fath
— Duke Amal knew King Axel. I heard much from him about the former king’s philandering ways. And what is that saying? ‘For where the father stumbles, the son falls?’ I have seen Achan tempted,
heard
his thoughts on the subject. It is only a matter of time.”

“Averella.” Bran propped his hand on his hip. “That is hardly fair.”

“I do not trust Achan with my heart.”

Bran all but snorted. “He already has your heart. You love him.”

“Do not say that! It is not true.”

“You are a poor liar, my lady.”

“Am I? I went almost a year as a man without anyone suspecting I was not.”

“The prince discovered it.”

“Only when he looked into my mind, where he had no right to be, and saw things he should not have. His mischief with bloodvoicing is another reason I do not trust him.”

“Well,
I
trust him.”

“Good for you, Master Rennan. You marry him.”

Bran rolled his eyes.

How could she make him understand? “Achan is my friend, Bran, but that is not enough to pledge him my life.”

“My lady, you are too hard on our future king. He did not have your sheltered childhood. And he has turned out remarkably well, considering. He is fair and kind.”

“But he is unscrupulous with his gift. He uses his power for his own devices. He had no right to look into my mind.”

“Though doing so saved you from a terrible fate.”

True. Polk would have succeeded in his attack if Achan had not been watching. She shook the thought away. “I do not wish to speak of him again. Stop bringing it up!”

“But you are engaged to marry him.”

“I am not. I relinquished my birthright. If Mother has not announced it yet, she soon will. The prince can marry Gypsum to earn his army. Mother is already preparing her.”

Bran’s mouth gaped, his dark eyebrows pinched as if he were thinking very hard. “Averella,
Gypsum
?”

Vrell’s voice came softly. “She is heir to Carm now.”

“Why would you renounce your birthright?”

She could not tell him that Duke Amal was not her birth father. “The prince signed an agreement with my mother. Carm gives full support for his campaign if he agrees to marry Mother’s heir.”

He rubbed his face as if exhausted by the conversation. “I don’t understand.”

“It is a private matter. But please do not misunderstand me. I do believe Achan will make a good king. I support his claim to the throne and want to help him take it. I can do that best by serving as a healer in Armonguard. Please, Bran?”

Bran sighed. “The duchess forbade you to come with us. Prince Oren has told you no. As has Sir Jax. And Sir Rigil is in agreement. I will not defy them.”

Vrell stewed a moment. Truly, she had known all along that Bran would not help her. She sighed dramatically. “I suppose I should give you leave to bid your peasant girl farewell before you abandon her as well.”

His expression tightened. “Ugliness does not suit you, Averella. I know you to be a lady above such petty insults. The
t
ruth shall set you free. Think on it.” He opened the door. “I shall find my own way out.”

And Bran left.

Vrell slumped into her mother’s chair and pressed a hand against her aching side. She did not doubt Bran’s wisdom. And she did need to speak with Achan someday.