From Darkness Won Part 11

"On three," Sir Eagan said. "One, two, three."

The men lifted Achan off the ground and set him on the litter. He groaned but did not wake. Shung walked back out of the row, as if to clear the path. The servants hoisted the litter and carried Achan away.

"I shall care for him now."

Sir Eagan's voice tore Vrell's gaze from Achan's body. She met his piercing blue eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

Sir Eagan held her gaze a moment, which only added more weight to the pressure in her chest. Then he walked away, following the men carrying the litter.

"Well now, Vrell Sparrow. You look fetching, you do, even covered in blood." Kurtz stood before her, brown eyes grazing her as if she were an apple tree. Kurtz, one of the soldiers freed from Ice Island, knew how handsome he was. Tall, blond, burly, and more shameless than a boy in the sugar jar. "You know, now that the prince is set to marry that stuffy young n.o.blewoman, perhaps you and I could-"

"I think not."

"But we're closer to the same rank, we are. And I can show you things our young prince hasn't dreamed of."

Vrell wanted to slap the leer off Kurtz face. She picked up her satchel and walked to the road. "Good day, Kurtz."

"Aw, don't be cross, Vrell. It was just an idea, it was."

Sir Caleb remained on the road. He looked haggard, like a father whose son had not returned from war. He ran his hands through his s.h.a.ggy blond hair. "How did you find him, Vrell? What are you even doing here? We thought you'd gone elsewhere. And forgive me, but that dress." He looked her up and down. "Where did you get such a gown?"

Say it, she urged herself. Say, "I am Lady Averella Amal." That would put Kurtz in his place. But words would not come. Instead, she curtsied and ran after the litter.

She stifled her tears. She would not allow herself to cry until she made it inside the castle. Now that the sun was up, she felt exposed. She stopped suddenly, remembering Kopay, and veered toward the stables. Where had she left her horse?

"My lady!"

Vrell spun around at Gren's voice. The girl hastened toward her, her ample bosom bouncing, face pale and clammy. Vrell melted. Gren had done far too much this morning for a woman with child. She should rest.

Gren stopped before Vrell, chest heaving. "Where are they taking Achan? How will I know he's well?"

"Word will spread through the servants. If not, you could ask Remy. He is Anillo's a.s.sistant."

"But," Gren panted, "I can't stand not knowing."

"I told you, he should be fine."

"Should be, you say."

Vrell closed her eyes, angry that this peasant dared ask such a thing of a n.o.blewoman, yet her anger was only pride. She no longer cared about cla.s.ses. After all she had endured living as a stray. Bran was right. She hid behind her t.i.tle as much as she had hid within the walls of Granton Castle.

Bran!

Vrell sat on the edge of a trough and closed her eyes.

"My lady?" Gren said.

"A moment, please." Vrell reached for Bran.

The sun beat down, but the wind of flight on horseback blew his hair away from his face as he traveled down a dusty road behind Sir Rigil's black courser. Gra.s.sy plains stretched out all around him. All was well. No fear clouded his thoughts. No concerns.

She opened her eyes, relieved that Bran, Jax, and Sir Rigil were safe. And Achan too.

Praise You, Arman. And thank You.

Vrell reached a hand to Gren. "Help me find and stable my horse, and I shall take you to Achan."

Gren pulled Vrell up and released a shaky sob and a stream of tears. Vrell wished she could afford such transparency.

They found Kopay back in what was left of the stables. Nothing but a corral inside the stone walls. The roof and all the stalls were gone. At least the animals could not roam free. Griscol had started to gather saddles and tack on a cart outside the stables. Vrell found her pack there. She hoisted it over her shoulder and led Gren around to a servant's entrance on the east side of the castle.

They followed the corridor that stretched along the north side of the courtyard. Vrell picked up a low-burning candle and ducked inside Mother's receiving room in the north wing. She closed the door, thankful they had not run into anyone.

The dark room slowly took shape around them in the low light. Vrell left her pack here. She moved the candle to her right hand and reached for Gren with her left. "Take my hand."

Gren's hands clasped hers. "Where are we?"

"My mother's receiving room. Trust me, please, and would you mind closing your eyes?"

"My eyes? Why?"

"If you want to see Achan... Mother would not like that I've brought you here. You must promise not to tell a soul what you see today. Do you?"

"Sure. Close my eyes now?"

"Please." Vrell held the candle aloft so the light fell over Gren's face. Her eyes were shut. The rest of her body melted into the darkness, black dress and all. "Thank you, Gren." Before Vrell turned to go, she looked kindly on the girl's face. "Gren, you did very well helping me today. You are a good friend."

Gren smiled, and Vrell pulled her slowly across the room to the painting of her mother. Her fingers found the latch on the upper left side of the frame. She pulled until it clicked and the painting bounced out from the wall.

"Only a moment longer." Vrell helped Gren inside the pa.s.sageway and pulled the painting closed behind them. "All right. You may open your eyes."

Gren studied the corridor. "Where are we?"

"In one of the secret pa.s.sageways in Granton Castle."

"There are secret pa.s.sageways?"

"Yes. But you must be absolutely silent, or we will be discovered."

"I can keep quiet."

"Good. Follow me."

Vrell led Gren all the way to the peephole that looked in on Achan's chambers. She glanced inside and saw that the men had already put Achan in his bed. Sir Eagan was smearing something on his head. Yarrow salve, likely. Shung stood behind Sir Eagan. A young boy stood at Shung's side.

"Is he dead, sir?" the boy asked.

"Sleeping."

"Will he sleep forever?"

"No, Matthias," Sir Eagan said. "He will wake when he is ready, once his body is rested."

Vrell stepped back from the peephole, motioned for Gren to look, then reached up and felt for the stone ledge she often used for her candle. When her fingers found it, she set the candle down and leaned against the opposite wall.

"Is he well?" Sir Caleb's voice carried through the wall.

"He should recover fully," Sir Eagan said, "though we must make sure that he wakes every few hours."

"He went out there to spite me," Sir Caleb said. "If I had acquiesced, Sir Shung would have been with-"

"He is old enough to make his own choices, Caleb," Sir Eagan said.

"But that's just it. He makes the wrong ones. Continually. How can I stand by and let him kill himself?"

"He will not learn to make the right decisions if he is coddled."

"I don't mean to coddle him, but... why does he insist on his way? He is so willful."

"He is merely trying to be a leader, I suspect."

"It would have been better for him to disobey me outright and take Shung along. But he sneaks off alone." Footsteps tapped over wood and echoed along the stone wall of the corridor. "I don't know how to control him."

"You cannot control him, Caleb. Nor should you. He needs to know that we believe in him. We must advise him, build up his confidence, not command him."

"I never intend to command him, but I've seen too many hurt. Killed. It's a cruel and brutal world. My fears are well founded."

"That they are," Sir Eagan said, "but your fears will not give him the insight of experience. He must learn that for himself. I daresay the headache he will wake with will teach him a strong lesson in heeding your advice in the future."

"But he didn't learn from the cham attack." More footsteps. "Why is Vrell here? I thought you said she was going to Allowntown."

Vrell nudged Gren away from the peephole and looked inside.

Sir Eagan put the lid on a jar. "I never said I knew where she was going."

"Someone said it. Perhaps Gavin. I don't understand why she's here. And dressed so well. You spoke with her. What did she say?"

"Only to give me her a.s.sessment of the prince's injury."

"Should we be concerned about her? It's good she left, don't you think? I don't want her becoming a distraction now that the prince is betrothed to Lady Averella."

Sir Eagan turned away from Sir Caleb, faced the peephole, and winked. "Ah, Caleb. I would not worry about Vrell Sparrow. Arman will work through her thick skull in his timing. All will be well."

Vrell pursed her lips. Sir Eagan knew of the secret pa.s.sages as well? If Mother continued to tell people, they would no longer be a secret.

Sir Eagan drew a blanket over Achan's waist and walked to the doors. "We must let the prince sleep. At least two hours." He winked in Vrell's direction again. "Sir Shung, stand outside and let no one enter. Come Caleb, let us take this discussion elsewhere. Matthias, you as well."

The men and the boy left.

Vrell nudged Gren. "Come."

She inched down the corridor, running her hand along the wall until her fingers felt the crack in the surface. She slid the panel open. Lamplight streamed through the doorway. She ducked inside and tugged her dress past the narrow opening. Gren followed, and Vrell slid the panel closed.

Vrell hurried to Achan's bed and sat on the edge. His skin had purpled over his right temple. Sir Eagan's yarrow salve had slicked his hair flat around the wound. The thick paste smelled like fresh flowers. She smoothed the loose hair back off the other side of his forehead and studied his face.

What was she to do about Achan now?

"Go visit him."

Vrell sat on Gypsum's bed, the skirt of her peach gown billowing around her like a mushroom. "I have, Gypsum."

Her sister sat at her embroidery frame, already half finished with a new tapestry depicting her abduction, Arne's death, and her rescue by Achan, or as she called him, Prince Achan. How she could create new embroideries so quickly bordered on magical powers.

"He saved my life, Vrella. Those men meant to take me to Esek's camp."

The very idea horrified Vrell more than she cared to admit. "Truly, Gypsum, you heard them say Esek is alive?"

Gypsum glanced up from her work. "The ogre man, the one who killed Arne, he said, 'If yer sister won't marry the king, you will. Once she's dead, you'll be heir to Carm."

Vrell's stomach churned. "Maybe someone else is planning to be king now."

"Vrella, are you listening?" Gypsum stood and walked to the foot of her bed. "They plan to kill you. Are you not concerned?"

"Not nearly as much as I am about them taking you."

Gypsum slid her hand around the bedpost and hugged it with one arm. "Well, if you will not marry Prince Achan, I shall. I still do not wish to marry a man who loves you, and I am frightened of marriage, but Prince Achan is so kind and attentive... and handsome." She straightened her arm and swung around the bedpost as if dancing. "I know he would not hurt me."

Vrell scowled at the dreamy expression on Gypsum's face, as if Achan were the bedpost. Her sister's eight minutes spent alone in the company of Achan Cham had apparently made her an expert on his countenance. "Why ever would you think your husband would hurt you?"

"Well, that is what some say about their husbands."

"Who says?"

Gypsum sat on the edge of her bed. "Halley married a soldier who is very brutal. And Meglan says that her husband only ever wants to make babies and that it hurts her but he doesn't care. And even Havella, my maidservant, has a fresh bruise every now and then. She never said outright Marden struck her, but I can tell it was him. Oh, and Suzelle-"

Vrell wrinkled her nose. "No more, Gypsum, please. You depress me. I had no idea how many wretched men lived in Carmine." Yet her comment brought to mind the men who had attacked Gren. She shook the thought away.

"It's not only Carmine men. Lady Melita Thorvald married Derno Sigul of Hamonah, and he is a hideous man. You wouldn't believe the things he does and says and-"

"The Siguls are pirates, Gypsum. They are hideous at birth. Really, for all your tales of horror, I can tell you as many tales of joy. Think of my Syrah. Jonol has courted her this past year and has only ever kissed her hand. And Princess Gla.s.sea and Keano Pitney."

"But they are not yet married. Things are different then."

"Prince Donediff and his wife, Lady Yulessa. I've heard from her mother that they are blissful. And Lady Katiolikan and Lord Eli seemed to get along well enough. And the priest Trajen Yorbride and his wife Ressa... They were sickly sweet to one another."

Her sister sighed, a long, sing-song sound, and tucked a strand of Vrell's hair behind her ear. "All I am saying is that it seems to me a smart lady would seize the chance to marry a good man."

Gypsum's eyes were s.h.i.+ning. Had Vrell been so dreamy about romance at Gypsum's age? Yes. And pining after Sir Rigil. She felt the need to give her sister some wisdom, as if she knew anything at all about romance.