From Darkness Won Part 7

"Wait." Sir Rigil's gaze fixed on Vrell. "Surely not!"

Vrell cringed, wis.h.i.+ng Jax had not opened the door to that henhouse.

"My dear lady Averella, please tell me that it was not you traveling with the prince as his squire and healer?"

Vrell's stomach clenched. She should not allow Sir Rigil to shame her. None of this was his concern. She straightened, which made her side throb. "If you do not wish to hear the truth, Sir Rigil, then do not ask questions."

Sir Rigil balked. "Your mother knows of this?"

"I thought you did not want to know."

"That all this time... ? Does Master Rennan know?"

She sighed. "He did not. But I a.s.sure you he now-"

"How very like a woman, constructing a fortress of falsehoods." Sir Rigil looked away, brooding. "No thought as to what poor soul might be ensnared along the way."

Bitter anger surged up in Vrell. "And what poor soul have I ensnared by my fortress of falsehoods, Sir Rigil?"

"Besides our future king? Master Rennan is my charge. I must ask why you did not tell him of this charade."

"It was not my charade, Sir Rigil. Not at first, anyway. My mother and your aunt arranged it. Mother sent me to Walden's Watch, and Lady Coraline dressed me as a stray boy so Prince Gidon-so Esek-would not be able to find me. I had but one instruction: tell no one of my true ident.i.ty until it was safe to do so. Yet no one foresaw that Macoun Hadar would sense my bloodvoice and claim me as his apprentice. Under the circ.u.mstances, I have done my best."

"But in Mahanaim! Master Rennan and I stood beside you. We spoke to you! You needed only look our way. We would have... My lady, I should have known. How could I have missed it?"

Vrell relaxed and took a deep breath, easing the pain in her side. For Sir Rigil was not scolding her but himself. "I do not blame you for not recognizing me, Sir Rigil. I am plain as it is. This helped me escape notice. And without a dress, it seems, I was not at all feminine."

"I hear the prince pines away for you. Whilst he is engaged to... to you!" Sir Rigil's eyes were wide. "Why let him suffer so? My dear lady, I never thought you so heartless."

Now he was scolding her. His stern expression stung like shards of gla.s.s on the backs of her eyes. She sought a dignified response, but emotion took over. "Your opinion of my heart is nothing I care to hear, Sir Rigil."

"Please, my lady. If you have no feeling in your heart, I pray you have mercy on his."

"His heart flutters about as much as yours. How am I to trust the word of a man who is enamored with a different woman every day?"

"Such accusations are beneath you, Lady Averella."

The truth of Vrell's heart? It felt like it was being wrung like a wet rag. This was not fair. She had known Achan only three months, and his head had been turned more times than she could count. How could she believe he truly loved her?

None of that mattered at the moment. "Your opinion has been noted." She s.h.i.+fted on the chair to face Jax. "Shall I bring my own armor, Jax? Do you expect any resistance on your journey?"

Jax's eyes s.h.i.+fted away. "Forgive me, Vrell, but Prince Oren requests you remain here with your mother."

Vrell stood, which put her at eye level with Jax. "That is impossible. I wish to use my healing gifts to a.s.sist in the coming war. I cannot do that from Carmine."

Jax would not meet her gaze. "Prince Oren says the coming battle is no place for a lady. He said with all you've been through, he's surprised you'd ask to leave again."

"Leave?" Sir Rigil stared up at Vrell. "Lady Averella, what are you thinking?"

"I am thinking of serving my prince."

"To serve your- My lady, the truth would serve him best."

"Sir Rigil, you are not my father. You have no right to lecture me so."

"Well, someone must. I've always known you were headstrong, my lady, but not so selfish. Perhaps I mislaid my opinion of your character. For at this moment, you are no better than any spoiled young n.o.blewoman I've met."

"It is not my fault I was raised in Granton Castle, given everything I wanted-even things I did not. I am tired of having my life lived for me. I choose my path, not Mother, not any prince, and certainly not you. Who invited you to this meeting, anyway?"

"Forgive me, Vrell," Jax said. "I asked Sir Rigil to come. I hoped-"

"That he would talk some sense into me? I see now that I have put my hope in the wrong comrades."

Sir Rigil stood and circled the table to stand before her. "Now see here-"

Vrell turned her back to him. "Please leave, Sir Rigil. And I trust you will keep this conversation-and my ident.i.ty-to yourself."

"I would never betray your trust, but the prince-"

"Need not know. You yourself have given your opinion of the attributes of my heart. He would be better off without such a deceitful woman in his life, would he not?"

"You put words in my mouth, my lady. And whether or not he would be better off should be his choice."

"My choice, Sir Rigil, and I have made it."

"I will not lie to my prince and future king. Should he ask me of Lady Averella's whereabouts..."

"You will not know them."

Sir Rigil sighed. "But you will inform Master Rennan of this, will you not?"

"I have already spoken with Master Rennan. He is aware of my situation."

"And what did he say?"

Vrell averted her eyes.

Sir Rigil snorted a knowing laugh. "That's what I thought. Good lad, Master Rennan."

Vrell swallowed another retort. She did not wish to quarrel with Sir Rigil. "Won't you change your mind, Jax? I can take care of myself. I have my own horse."

"I cannot go against Prince Oren, Vrell. I'm sorry."

Sir Rigil gripped Vrell's upper arm. "Lady Averella, whether you can protect yourself is not the issue. Prince Oren knows that your presence would still be a distraction to our men."

She pulled away. "I am plain enough that most men pay me no mind."

"Regardless, while your beauty would fl.u.s.ter many, all would be distracted by their need to protect you. Our men train to a certain code. We swear to protect women and children above all. No man would be able to focus on his task when you were nearby, vulnerable, without an escort."

"Your men need not concern themselves. I can-"

"Forgive me, my lady, but it is not a question of need. It is simply the way Arman made men. We cannot, in good conscience, ignore the presence of a woman. Like it or not, you would be a great distraction."

The chivalry she had hoped for during her time as a boy had come too late. "I thank you both for your counsel. Good day."

Jax reached out for her again. "Please, Vrell, do not be cross."

She stepped back to avoid his touch. "Not cross, only disappointed. For I very much wish to serve as a healer."

"If your d.u.c.h.ess mother should travel south," Sir Rigil said, "I am certain Prince Oren would covet your a.s.sistance with any wounded."

"Thank you, Sir Rigil. I shall inquire as to whether she plans to make such a journey."

When the men had left, Vrell fell back into her chair. "Oh, Syrah, I am such a fool."

Syrah ran to Vrell's side. "No offense, m'lady, but I'm glad Prince Oren said no."

For months Vrell had longed for home, and now she wanted to leave again. What was the matter with her? "But I can help, Syrah. I am a gifted healer."

Syrah released a shuddering breath. "The idea of you on a battlefield, m'lady, it terrifies me. Stay here where I can care for you."

"You are sweet. But there is no honor in doing nothing."

"There is plenty of honor in taking care of your sisters and the people of Carmine. There is much to be done here."

"And plenty of sisters to help Mother do it." Sisters who were true heirs to Carm. Vrell was tired of hiding in her own home. She had changed. She was no longer content to marry and wear pretty dresses all her life. She wanted-no, needed-to partic.i.p.ate, to be of use in the coming war. And if doing so took her away from Achan...

Syrah offered her a gla.s.s of water. "'Tis only a few days until the prince and his men leave. Then you won't have to see any of them for a long time."

That was what Vrell wanted, right? But the thought of never seeing Achan again brought tears to her eyes.

Vrell slipped along the cool, stone pa.s.sage. She knew her way so well it was hard not to run the straight stretches. She forced herself to walk slowly, watching the flame on her candle flicker with each step. It took ages to move about the castle using only the secret pa.s.sageways, but she could not risk being seen until Achan was gone.

Vrell was still furious Mother had permitted Anillo to show Achan the pa.s.sages. Of course he should know of the secret meeting rooms, but not that he could walk to his chambers.

No doubt Mother hoped Achan and Vrell might stumble upon one another in the dark corridors. Mother did not understand Vrell's reservations. The sooner Vrell could find a way to leave Carmine, the better.

At the northwest tower stairs, she started up. Her room was on the sixth floor, but she paused on the fourth. Achan had gone out to practice with the soldiers. She had seen him and Shung from Ryson Tower.

No. Enough time had been wasted spying on Achan. She continued to climb. Her dress sc.r.a.ped along the stone steps and walls. She did not bother to lift her skirts and protect the fabric. She would have no need for such gowns on the battlefield.

By the time she reached the sixth floor, her lungs were tight. She pa.s.sed the first arrow loop and held the candle high until she spied a strip of white fabric. She had tied the swatch on the entrance to her sister's room to make the door easier to find. She knocked once and pushed the door in.

Gypsum sat before an embroidery stand, plump lips turned down. Baskets of colorful thread sat around her feet. Eyes on her work, she said, "By all means, Averella, enter."

Vrell ignored her sister's tone and sank down on the foot of the bed. In many ways, twelve-year-old Gypsum acted older than Vrell. The girl had been an exceptional seamstress since she had first touched needle and thread, an admirable skill for a young n.o.blewoman. She never disagreed with Mother, never climbed trees, and never argued with squires or knights. Vrell doubted she had ever touched a weapon in her short life.

Gypsum's room was always spotless, of her own accord. Maids had little to clean here. Gypsum had chosen lavender and deep purple floral bedding and matching solid upholstery on her chaise lounge and chairs. Frescoes of children and angels covered the ceiling, but the walls were white. Framed tapestries hung every two feet, most of which Gypsum had crafted herself. Vrell spotted a new one near the door and heaved herself off the bed to examine it more closely.

Two sheets of silk, one black, one white, had been sewn together with raw, jagged st.i.tches. The outline of a map was embroidered in gold. On the white silk, happy people danced among the ripe vines of Carmine and full orchards of Allowntown. On the black side, Vrell's gaze stopped on a small boat in the water west of Mahanaim. Five figures sat in the small craft. Three men in red Kingsguard capes, a young man, whom Gypsum had st.i.tched with a golden glow over his head, and a girl, staring out from a hooded cape with wide eyes, her black hair blowing out from the side of the hood.

Vrell s.h.i.+vered. "This is amazing, Gypsum. When did you do this?"

Still absorbed in her latest masterpiece, Gypsum pulled the thread with an easy rhythm. "When you were gone. Mother told us much of what you relayed. Your journey spoke to me, so I made that."

I made that. As if the girl merely whipped the piece out in an afternoon, which, for all Vrell knew, she had.

"Do you want something, dear sister?" Gypsum asked.

"Just your chatty company."

Gypsum rewarded Vrell with a fake smile. "Do not mock my silence when I am concentrating. Besides, Mother says men prefer silent ladies."

Vrell blew a wry laugh out her nose. "I do not doubt that most do."

"If you have no news to lighten my mood, go away."

Not this again. "I am sorry your mood is sour, but you are too young to understand. I cannot do what I feel is wrong."

Gypsum's hands stilled and she looked up. "You feel the truth is wrong?"

"Not the truth part. The other part."

"You can do both, Averella. You simply refuse. And who is to pay for your disobedience to Arman and to Mother? I am. For I will do my duty, even if I have to marry this prince of yours."

"He is not my prince."

Gypsum rolled her eyes and continued st.i.tching. "You mope about the castle, scuttling within the walls like a spider. I do not have to be as old and wise as you to see that he owns your heart."

Vrell crossed the room, toward the tapestry of the kittens that hid the secret entrance. She did not need yet another lecture, especially from her little sister-half-sister, though Vrell had not shared that secret with anyone. Maybe she should. Maybe then Gypsum would understand.

She turned back to spill the truth, but Gypsum's tear-filled eyes pleaded. "Normally I would be ecstatic about marrying a prince, especially the real Prince Gidon Hadar. Imagine it! He is handsome and kind, good-mannered. And he is only four years my senior, which is nothing compared to what most girls suffer in marriage. After what happened to Tara, how could I refuse such a match?"

Vrell lifted the kitten tapestry aside. "It appears that you cannot. Congratulations."

"Vrella, please do not force me to marry him."

Vrell set her jaw. "I will not force you to marry anyone. Nor will Mother."

"No, but she will lose honor if the agreement is not fulfilled. I will not put her in that situation."

Vrell dropped the curtain and folded her arms. "It has been said that some make an idol out of obedience. Such perfect standards cannot bring you joy at all times. I suspect that even you sometimes rebel in your heart."

Gypsum's wide-eyed glare was all innocence. "I am simply doing what Arman asks of me."

"Is that so? And have you consulted the Book of Life? I recall this printed in its pages: 'Anyone who loves his father or mother more than Arman is not worthy of Arman.'"

Gypsum straightened. "'Children, obey your parents in Arman, for this is right.'"