From Darkness Won (17 page)

“That he did not want to risk your heart. To ask for your hand or to marry you before he left would be irresponsible.”

“I don’t understand you nobles and all your rules. All I know is he’s gone. What if his master bids he stay in Armonguard after the war? If I’m not there, he may forget me. But if I follow him, I’d be there when the war’s over.”

“I know that you care for Master Rennan, but you will cause him nothing but trouble to follow him now. How can he assist his king if he is worried about you?” Vrell winced at how much her words mirrored Sir Rigil’s. But that was different. Vrell was not chasing after a man. She was running from one.

Gren gazed up at Kopay. “Oh, I don’t wish to worry him. Only to be near when all this is over. Plus, I have to look out for my child. And it’s not safe here.”

“My mother will see that you are cared for.”

Gren turned her eyes back to Vrell. “I don’t doubt your mother’s kindness, my lady, but she can’t watch me always. I’ll be safer in a war.”

“After all Master Rennan and Jax and Sir Rigil went through to bring you here?”

“Achan said he isn’t worried for me no more. He figures Lord Nathak has his hands full with other things. And if Achan’s not worried, I’m not worried.”

“But what of your parents? I am certain they would want to go with you.”

“They’re happy here.”

“But they will want to see their grandchild.”

“They can visit once the baby comes. But I can’t put my baby’s life in danger because Bran might come back someday. Please, my lady. Can’t I come with you to Sitna? I have friends there who’ll take me the rest of the way.”

The very idea stunned Vrell. “I do not plan to travel through Sitna.”

“It can’t be far out of your way. Please? I’ll serve you. I’ll cook for you.”

Vrell would not mind a companion or a cook. She was so far behind Jax and the others that it was dangerous for her to travel alone, though it was the road from Sitna to Mahanaim that truly frightened her. And she wouldn’t be able to ride as fast with Gren along.

“I am sorry, Gren, but I cannot take you with me. I must ride like the wind to catch up with Jax. As it is, they are a day ahead of me.”

“Then I’ll tell your mother you’ve gone.”

Vrell’s chin dropped. “You would blackmail me?”

A tear streamed down Gren’s cheek. “I don’t want to, my lady. But I’m desperate. Have mercy, I beg you.”

Vrell sighed. “Oh, very well. Run and get your things and meet me back here.”

Gren held up her sack. “I’ve no things to be getting. Just tell me which horse I can ride and we’ll be on our way.”

This foiled Vrell’s plan to ride off while Gren was packing her bag. Vrell was worried enough for her own safety. Two women riding alone—and one with child. It was more than foolish.

She heaved a long sigh. Vrell’s stick-like frame made her a believable boy, but it would take a masterpiece of disguise to make Gren’s curves look like those of a plump man. And that black dress would never do. Still, if anyone saw them from afar… She released her hold on Kopay. “We should find you some trousers and a man’s tunic before we go. It will be safer that way.”

P
A R T 3

LESSONS

7

Achan lay on his back in a vineyard. The sky draped overhead like a cerulean tent. Leaves and vines rustled in a cool breeze that blew his hair across his face. He felt no pain.

Hadn’t he been wounded?

Perhaps he was in the Veil again. He tried to float off the ground, and he suddenly stood on the platform in Berland. Drums beat a low cadence that rumbled deep in his belly. Bodies danced around him in a blur of slow motion. All but one. A woman, clear and close, sang in a haunting voice.

View not my face, I am undone beside you

The beating of my heart will not cease

Whilst I am near you, whilst I am near you.

A jeweled tiara held her silky black hair in place. She wore a green gown as fine as any of Duchess Amal’s. Her skin was
s
oft and white like the petal of a daisy. Her green eyes drew him in.

Vrell Sparrow.

He reached out for her but grasped nothing but air. Why couldn’t he get to her?

He opened his eyes to the frescoed ceiling of his chamber in Granton Castle. Pain stabbed his head like a gowzal’s bite. He took a deep breath and the stabs struck again, sharp and angry.

Trying to sit made it worse, so he lay still, gasping shallow breaths. His stomach churned, threatening to expel whatever might be inside. Nothing, if he went by memory, for he had not eaten before sneaking out.

He lay in his bed, shirtless, a blanket pulled up to his waist.

The stripe of sunlight that spilled through the door of his privy proved it daytime. But what hour? And what day?

Footsteps padded across the wooden floor, and Matthias’s brown eyes came into view.

“Matthias…” The room blurred, taking the boy’s face and blond hair and twisting them with the colors of the frescoed ceiling above. Tingles danced behind Achan’s eyes. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, then opened them to a clearer view. “What’s happened?”

“You were struck down in battle, sir.”

The mace. Achan ran his fingers over the side of his head. It felt swollen, tender. “How long have I been sleeping? What of the battle?”

“The battle has ended, sir. Though Sir Caleb says we leave soon to fight again. You’ve been sleeping two days.”

Two days? No wonder his stomach ached. He blinked at the boy and realized he was wearing a new red tunic and black trousers. “You have new clothes.”

Matthias smiled. “Yes, sir. Thank you for them, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Achan took a deep breath and smelled a hint of roses on the air. “Did someone bathe in rose water, Matthias? Or was a woman here?”

“Aye, sir. Three.”

“
Three
women? All at once?”

“No. First come the duchess with her man, the scarred one. What happened to his neck, sir?”

“Anillo? Lord Nathak’s men tried to kill him. What of the other two women?”

“They came together.”

“Maids, you mean?”

“Oh, no, sir. Not maids. One wore a black dress. The other looked like a cornsilk doll and sang like an angel.”

Achan perked up. “One of them sang? As she worked?”

“She didn’t work. She sat with you and held your hand.”

“Did she?” Sparrow. It had to be. Hope spread through Achan, coiled around his chest like armor.

“Who was she, sir? The one who sang?”

“The woman I love,” Achan said, almost to himself.

Matthias’s snicker turned Achan’s head.

“You find that funny?”

Matthias sobered. “Do you kiss her?”

Achan sighed, fighting a laugh he suspected would make his aching head worse. “No, Matthias, I do not. We are not permitted to be together.”

Matthias seemed to mull this over. “Armas loves a lady not of his station.”

“And who is Armas, again?” Matthias spoke of so many siblings, Achan couldn’t keep them all straight.

“My oldest brother. He’s lived nineteen years.”

Right. The son who would inherit Master Ricks’s net-making enterprise. “Is the lady above or below him?”

“Oh, far above, sir. She is Lady Lathia. Her father is captain of the
Brierstar
.”

Achan’s eyes widened, recalling his dances with Lady Lathia the night before her grandfather, Lord Livna, had been killed. “I’m familiar with Lady Lathia. Has she ever spoken to your brother?”

“Oh, yes. They kiss when they think no one is looking.”

“Do they?” Achan tried to imagine Lady Lathia kissing a peasant man. “Does she strike him or get angry?”

“Never, sir.” Matthias wrinkled his nose. “I think she likes to be kissed.”

Achan grinned. “From your report, Matthias, I gather she does. Perhaps I can help your brother make that match. It is good for people to marry the one they love. Arman knows I will not have that pleasure.”

The door opened and Sir Caleb entered. “Ah, I see you are awake. Praise Arman. How do you feel?”

“Hungry. And my head hurts.”

“I do not doubt it, Your Highness. Why you insist on disobeying simple instructions, I’ll never understand.”

Heat rushed through Achan’s chest. “Really? You can’t imagine why I might make a decision every now and then?”

Sir Caleb’s eyes shut as if trying to control his temper. He opened them slowly. “I know you desire to be a good leader. But it’s selfish to risk your life. Er’Rets needs you.”

“Why do you decide how I serve Er’Rets?”

“I’m a Kingsguard knight, appointed by your father. And your advisor, appointed by you.”

“
Advisor
, Sir Caleb, not father.”

“I never meant to imply that—”

“How can you expect me to lead—to ever have confidence to do so—if you continually override me? True, I am but sixteen years of age. I have not your wit, experience, or skill with politics and war. Still, Arman chose
me
. And I am trying to obey His call. If you refuse to be reasonable, to accept any authority from me at all…” Achan paused, hating to say what he felt he must. “I will replace you.”

Sir Caleb’s shoulders sank. “Understood.”

“Thank you.” Achan wanted to forget this conversation had ever taken place. “Now is there something you needed?”

The knight’s tone grew distant. “No, Your Highness. I only wanted to see how you fared. Since you are hungry, I’ll have a tray brought up.” He bowed to his waist, causing his wild hair to fall forward and reveal a balding patch of skin. Then he strode out the door.

Achan rubbed his eyes. The pain in his head was now accompanied by an ache in his chest. He hadn’t meant to berate Sir Caleb, especially in front of Matthias. He should have held his ground in the first place and demanded to go to the battle. It would take time to prove to Sir Caleb that Achan wasn’t completely hopeless as a leader, but he could never prove anything without a chance to try.

He felt trapped in his bed and desperately wanted to sit. He turned his head and met Shung’s gaze. The Shield sat on a chair in the dark corner, shadowed in his black clothes.

“Why, hello, Shung. Nice of you to announce yourself.”

His Shield raised one eyebrow. “Shung was sleeping until Sir Caleb spoke. The lion’s voice haunts my dreams.”

At least Achan wasn’t the only one under Sir Caleb’s careful eye, though he felt even more embarrassed knowing that Shung had also overheard his lecture. “He means well.”

Shung leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands. One of his thick braids fell over his shoulder and dangled with the charmice tails that decorated his jerkin. “Still, the lion needed taming, even if the little cham is a willful cub.”