From Darkness Won (85 page)

She didn’t look to be missing any hair.
You’re ripping off your hair? Whatever for?

Not the hair on my head, goose. The hair on my legs and arms
…
Every place
but
my head. I am so soft you will be able to fold me up and put me in a satchel.

The thought of touching her skin sent a thrill through his body.
You smell like almonds.

She gasped and pulled the blankets to her chin.
Achan, go back to your room. You have no business being here.

Why not? If you’re going to talk to me,
I’
d much rather see your face.

She growled, but it sounded so much like a purring kitten that Achan laughed.

So, why do you smell like almonds?
Achan asked.

Syrah washed my hair with crushed almonds. It is supposed to make it silkier.

Achan couldn’t see any difference in the dark.
Really?

You can tell me what you think tomorrow.

I wish you were here now.

It is only one more day.

It may as well be one hundred.

You poor dear.

He watched her eyes flicker around him, never quite looking in the right place.
Are you nervous?
he asked.

A little. Are you?

I don’t like being stared at by a crowd of people.

I will call it off, you know, if you want me to. There is still time.

Very funny, Sparrow. I want to show you our home. I built it for you
…
sort of.

A home?

The king’s chambers. I think you will like it.

Is there an open place where I can practice my leg sweep on you?

He chuckled.
As a matter of fact, there is.

Excellent. I shall bid you farewell, then, Achan. Please let go of my mind so I can sleep, or I will have no energy for leg sweeping tomorrow.

We mustn’t have that. Sleep well, Vrell Sparrow. Until the cock crows.

Until then. Good night.

Achan fought the temptation to remain in her bedchamber and watch her sleep. After tonight, he would never be parted from Sparrow again.

He returned to his body and stared at the organza canopy above his bed. He could never rest now without help, so he reached out for Shung’s mind, heard the man’s heavy snoring, and relaxed, drugged by his Shield’s deep sleep.

Averella could not breathe. “That is too tight!”

“Once more and I will be done.” Lady Coraline Orthrop pulled the ties of Averella’s corset again.

Averella swore she heard a rib crack. “I will not be able to walk.”

“Pish posh. A corset does not affect your legs.”

“If my brain can only think of the pain and lack of air, it will not have time to tell my legs to move.”

“You are terribly dramatic, Averella.
How ever
will the king put up with you?”

“The same way every man finds a way to put up with his wife, I suppose. Are not all women dramatic at times?”

“Just you remember to show him respect.”

“Oh, he knows I respect him. But how will a tight corset matter? I can tell you now he cares little for these things.”

Lady Coraline smiled. “He may think he cares little now, but once he sees you in it, I have no doubt he will ask you to wear it again.”

Averella rolled her eyes. “All the more reason he never see me in it. Then he will not be disappointed when I burn it.”

“At least you will not have to wear it for long.”

Lady Coraline’s singsong tone brought a flush to Averella’s cheeks, but she held her tongue. The less she reacted, the less Lady Coraline would provoke her.

“Let’s get your dress on now.” Lady Coraline gathered the sides of Averella’s wedding gown and held it down on the floor. “Step in.”

Averella put a hand on Lady Coraline’s shoulder and stepped into the gown. Lady Coraline pulled it up, twisted it the right direction, then helped Averella get her arms into the sleeves.

Averella had to admit, the gown was lovely, even if the waist was two sizes too small. The dress was all blue, as blue symbolized purity, peace, loyalty, and trust.

It had a fitted bodice, long fitted sleeves, and a flowing skirt made of pale blue brocade heavily embroidered with golden thread and pearls. Embroidered blue brocade accented the gown with a cuff around each upper arm, an inlay on the top of the bodice, and a loose belt that dangled in front.

Mother said Achan would be wearing blue as well. Averella could not wait to see him.

Once Lady Coraline had laced up the gown, Syrah fetched the matching blue cape that was lined in gold satin. It attached with two sapphire brooches that clipped to the front of the dress just below each shoulder, allowing the cape to drape off the shoulders and trail on the ground. A third sapphire brooch clipped onto the belt in the center front.

Lady Coraline had already attacked Averella’s hair. It was down, as a bride’s hair usually was for her wedding. But Lady Coraline had curled much of it with an iron rod that was still perched in the embers of the fireplace.

Now that Averella was dressed, Lady Coraline set a gold circlet on Averella’s head. It was encrusted with sapphires and rubies—a gift from Achan that had belonged to his mother.

Lady Coraline attached a two-layer white organza veil to the circlet then turned Averella to face a full-length mirror. “There now. It is not trousers, but it is blue.”

“It makes me look as though I have a figure.”

“You look radiant, and you do have a figure.”

“If only something could be done for my voice.”

“The prince loves you as you are, so you told me. You would not be you with another woman’s figure or voice.” Lady Coraline peered over Averella’s shoulder and met her gaze in the mirrorglass. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“As ready as a girl can be on her wedding day, I suppose.”

“Are you frightened about the ceremony?”

“No.”

“About the celebration?”

“No.”

“About tonight?”

Averella turned her head and met Lady Coraline’s eyes. “I am nervous, but not afraid.”

“You are fortunate to be marrying someone you love.”

Averella looked back at her reflection in the mirrorglass and sighed. “I know.”

A pressure squeezed in on Averella’s mind and her mother said,
It is time, dearest. Are you ready?

Yes.
“Mother is coming,” she said to Lady Coraline.

Lady Coraline scowled. “I hate it when you do that. You and your mother and your bloodvoices.”

“
And
my husband.”

Lady Coraline rolled her eyes. “Yes, child. Your children will likely have it too. What ever will I do?”

“Get used to it.”

Achan couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t the layers of blue silk and velvet he was wearing, though he wondered at the cost of his outfit. If silk and velvet were cheaper than coats of chain, maybe he could outfit his army in wedding ensembles. They felt equally thick and brought the same inescapable heat.

Or maybe the heat was due to his situation.

He stood deep in the temple garden at the end of a white wood pergola that was so draped in vines and flowers the scent was overpowering. Shung stood at his side, then Noam, Sir Gavin, and Sir Caleb. Across from him, Lady Gypsum and two maidens were dressed in blue and white gowns. Lady Gypsum grinned at Achan as if she knew some secret.

He glanced away.

Hundreds of chairs had been set up in the gardens, and not one was empty. The audience was divided by an aisle that ran from the double doors at the back of the southern arc of the keep to where Toros, Achan’s priest, stood at the end of the aisle, facing the audience. Achan glanced down the aisle again.

Nothing.

He released a shaky breath and thought of the handful of mentha leaves he’d stashed in his pocket. He’d already eaten so many his tongue felt raw, but his stomach had yet to settle, so eating a few more wouldn’t hurt. At least Sparrow would not be able to accuse him of having stink breath.

He reached into the narrow pocket in his doublet. His fingers did not find mentha leaves but his half of the coin. He drew it out, squeezed it, and tucked it back into his pocket.

His left-hand pocket furnished him with another store of mentha. He stuffed two leaves into his mouth as stealthily as he could and took a deep breath.

Arman, give me peace, I beg You.

The gardens
were
beautiful. The valances were thick with vines and white blossoms. Achan glanced at his future mother-in-law. The woman’s eyes were also fixed on the entrance.

Bang!

He jumped as the doors at the back of the keep swung open. A man and woman stood in the open doorway.

Father and daughter.

A murmur ran through the crowd. A man to Achan’s left began to play an eerie tune on the pipes. Achan shivered. What kind of song was this? It felt more like a death march than a wedding song.

His bride started forward. She was draped in what looked to be blue and gold gemstones. Her veil was so thick he couldn’t even see her face.

Is that you under all those stones, Sparrow?

Does it look like someone else?

Can you even see where you’re going?

No, but thankfully Sir Eagan can be my eyes.

Achan chuckled, thankful for bloodvoices and the chance to speak with his friend.
How long is the garden walk, anyhow? Can’t you take normal steps?

What ever
is your hurry?

I feel as though everyone is staring at me, and I do not have a veil to hide behind.

You cannot see it, Your Highness, but I am rolling my eyes at your sad situation. And I cannot take normal steps because my gown is a vise tighter than an Eben’s fist.

Mercy. Well
…
it looks quite nice.

She was still inching toward him.
It had better look better than “nice,” or you shall pay later.