The young woman's face flushed. She tugged her hand free and stumbled back, her eyes locked with Achan's until she sank into the crowd.
Easy, Achan, Sir Caleb said. This is not a noblewoman who requires such courtesy.
Heat crept up Achan's neck. Well, why should that matter? You told me I had to act with dignity and respect in formal gatherings.
Aye, but you must consider your subjects' social class or you'll start a scandal with every young maid you meet. These women are not used to such flattery and may take your words as more than they were.
Achan met Sir Caleb's critical gaze. But I meant what I said.
The corners of Sir Caleb's mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile. I see I must teach you about women next.
I know about women, thank you very much.
Sir Caleb laughed out loud. Achan scowled. The knight looked quite mad laughing alone on the other side of the room.
Trajen spoke in a loud voice, and Achan found the man standing at the head of the table now packed with steaming bowls of food. "We are one in heart and mind. We claim no possessions as our own, but share all we have. Darkness may surround us, but in our hearts, the Light is blinding. As we continue to testify to the love of Caan, truly there are none needy among us. For Arman provides our every need." Trajen met Achan's eyes and held out an arm, beckoning him forward. "Come, Your Highness, sit at our humble table and be filled."
Achan somehow managed to cross the room and sit on the stool at the head of the table. Thankfully, Trajen didn't ask him to offer thanks the food, but said the words himself.
"Arman, we thank you for your many blessings, for this food, fellowship, and the hope that dines with us this day. Let us break bread with glad and sincere hearts, praising you in all things. So may your will be, forever."
A chorus of "So be it" and "May it be so" erupted. The rest of Achan's party was ushered to the table. Sir Caleb sat to Achan's left, Sir Gavin to his right. Sparrow sat beside Inko on the other end.
Bowls of steaming flatbread filled the table along with seasoned brown rice, cuts of chicken, diced tomatoes, wedges of apples and peaches, peas, steamed carrots, shredded lamb, and stacks of toasted trenchers. The aroma watered his tongue, but no one touched the food. Every face watched him.
Ressa swept forward. She set a trencher in front of him, then arranged several pieces of flatbread on it, scooped rice, chicken, and tomatoes onto the flatbread, and rolled it up. She raised her eyebrows and smiled with a nod of her head. "Go ahead and eat, Your Majesty."
Achan lifted the rolled-up meal to his mouth and bit down on the rich and spicy mixture. He chewed, unhinged that everyone still stared. He smiled with his lips closed to hold in the food and said, "Mmm."
The crowd burst into cheers and applause. Achan kept himself busy chewing, eyes downcast. His approval of the meal seemed to be all everyone had been waiting for. People began filling their trenchers. Achan, happy to have the attention off him, glanced at Sparrow and found that the boy was the only person still staring. What?
You did well. That must have been terrifying.
Achan smiled. You think I'm going to have to do that every time we eat with strangers?
Yes. I am afraid this will soon be how you eat for the rest of your life.
Achan lowered his gaze to his plate. The first tradition to go if I ever sit on any throne. There's no reason I should eat first, especially with everyone watching.
It is meant to honor you.
I don't need to be honored. Though it was nice for Ressa to rescue me. If she hadn't I might still be staring at the food.
You only like her because she looks like…
Achan stared at Sparrow, who'd looked away. Looks like who? Ressa resembled Gren in so many ways, but how could Sparrow know that? Achan had told no one.
Not looks. She cooks like I suspect the king's chef might.
I don't see you pushing the food away. Achan tucked his last bite of flatbread roll into his mouth and reached for another. You're right, though. Vile, evil woman! How dare she feed us so well?
Then why not ask her to join our group? She can be your personal chef.
Achan scooped rice and lamb onto his second flatbread. Why don't you eat, or better yet, talk to Inko. He hasn't had the pleasure of your chiding conversation as much as I have. Go on then, share your wit with him a while.
You spoke to me, not the other way-
Achan blocked Sparrow out, rolled up his flatbread, and bit into it. He caught the boy's slight frown and grinned. Having stronger bloodvoicing skill than Sparrow was fun.
Vrell reclined on the pillows in the front room, holding Romal loosely so his feet touched the floor but he could bounce freely and not fall. The baby boy stared at her with wide, brown eyes. She made a face, puckering her lips and squinting. Romal giggled and bent his knees, his chubby cheeks dimpling.
What a sweet creature.
Ressa had handed the baby to Vrell so she could groom Achan. The two of them had been gone for a while. They were not alone, of course. Sir Gavin and the men were with Achan, discussing the plans to depart the city in the morning. Vrell felt excluded out in the front room. She had considered carrying Romal back there, but knew the little boy would cry the moment he saw his mother.
Muffled voices rose in the hall. The curtain shifted, and Achan held it open for Ressa.
Vrell rolled her eyes.
"Bite, bite, Mima!" Romal squirmed, reaching for his mother.
Ressa came straight over and swept him up. "Mima thinks it's time for Romal to nap."
"Bite, bite."
"Yes, you may have dinner first, my sweet."
Ressa left from the room without another word. Achan fell onto the pillows beside Vrell. His hair hung loose around his face, but the ends had been trimmed, as had his scruffy facial hair, to keep up his shadow of a beard.
"What?" Achan slapped Vrell lightly on the back of the head.
She flinched and shied back. "You smell like rose water."
He smirked. "It's not nearly so bad when a woman washes your hair." He put his hand on Vrell's ear and pushed her.
She tipped onto her side, grunted, and struggled to sit upright again. "Stop."
Achan's lips curved in a small smile. He snagged her arm, drew it behind her back, and grabbed her other wrist in the same hand. Then he flipped her over his lap and pushed her down to the floor. Her cheek slapped against the wood floor. Achan's knee pressed into her back and squeezed the air from her body in a rush.
"What are you doing?" She gasped in a quick breath. "Get off me!"
Achan leaned over, his wet hair tickled her ear. "You're a weakling, Sparrow. And you eat too much. What if you have to fight a warrior hand to hand, no weapons? It's my responsibility to make sure you know enough to live." He released her.
She took a deep breath and barely managed to stand before he darted forward and tucked her head under his arm. She flailed her hands about, slapping wherever she could, and managed to pull out a handful of his hair.
He laughed. "You fight like a girl. Come on, Sparrow. At least try to hurt me."
She drew back, but he had her chin locked tight in the crook of his elbow. "I do not…" she pulled back again, grunting with effort… "want…" another pant and tug… "to hurt you." She kicked at his leg, hoping to make him trip.
"Don't worry." He kicked her feet out from under her and released her head. "You can't."
She fell onto her side. Her elbow hit the floor at an awkward angle and stung.
He leaned over her again. "That's my point. Now, stand up and try again. A leg sweep has to come from behind my leg, not in front. You need to kick out the back of my knees and push me down at the same time."
Vrell scrambled to her feet and grabbed Achan around the waist, trying to hook her leg around his in the process, but like a solid tree, he did not budge. She reared back and charged again. He caught her shoulders, twisted aside, and swiped her feet out from under her again. Her back
slapped against the floor, knocking her lungs useless. She sucked in, but no breath came. She closed her eyes and tried again, barely managing a hitch of air.
Achan sank to the floor and sighed. "Sleep in my room tonight, Sparrow."
Vrell's eyes flew open and she croaked, "Sleep where?"
Achan drew both hands over his head, sweeping his hair out of his face. "It's creepy back there alone. I miss the campfire and bedrolls. I don't know why everyone feels I must have my own bedchamber."
Vrell inhaled a long breath. Feeling had returned to her body again and it hurt. "You just want someone to beat on."
Achan nudged Vrell's shoulder with his bare foot. "I want someone to talk to. Please?" He cast a begging pout her way.
Vrell could not help but laugh. "You look as if you are a puppy who has been put outdoors. Ask Sir Gavin. If he does not disapprove, I suppose it would be all right."
"Why should Sir Gavin care?"
Vrell sighed, searching for a logical reason Achan might understand. "All this protocol is new to me too. When I met you, you were a soldier. Now you are a prince. I will not be accused of treating you poorly."
"Sparrow, you're so full of moss you're soft in the head. You're the only person who doesn't treat me like a prince every hour of the day. Imagine why I like you so much?"
Vrell's cheeks warmed. Oh, Shamayim. If her mother knew she planned to share a bedchamber with the prince, she would never hear the close of it.
Achan lay on his pallet and stared at the webs of light flickering on the ceiling from Sparrow's candle, glad they were leaving in the morning. Trajen and Ressa were kind, but Ressa's similarities to Gren haunted Achan. He wanted to get to Tsaftown and see Lady Tara, a girl he hoped could fill the cracks in his heart left by Gren.
Thankfully, Sparrow had agreed to sleep in the room. Achan couldn't stand another night alone with thoughts of Gren, memories of torture, and pondering his dead parents. If he wasn't careful, Darkness turned every thought sour, though he hadn't had any dark visions or nightmares here. Sir Caleb claimed Arman protected Trajen's household from such evil.
Light still danced on the ceiling. Achan propped himself up on his elbow. Sparrow sat cross-legged on his bedroll by the foot of Achan's pallet, a finger and rag in his mouth.
"What in blazes are you doing?"
Sparrow's round eyes focused on Achan. "I am cleaning my teeth."
Achan laughed. What an odd duck.
Sparrow shot him a lofty smirk. "You shall not be laughing when you have a toothache and nothing can be done but to have it pulled."
Achan sobered a moment thinking of Sir Gavin's thin and wolfish teeth. "So if I wipe cloth over my teeth I'll not get a toothache?"
"Not necessarily. But at least you will not have stink breath."
Achan frowned. "I don't have stink breath."
Sparrow raised his eyebrows and went back to rubbing.
Achan crawled out of his bed and over to Sparrow.
The boy shrank back, regarding him warily. "What?"
"I want to see what you're-" Achan leaned close and breathed in the boy's face.
Sparrow's eyes bulged and he sputtered. "Eww, Achan. How revolting. I thought Sir Caleb was teaching you manners."
Achan cackled and dove back to his pallet. "For everyone but you, Sparrow. For everyone but you."
20
Achan wanted to think they left for Berland bright and early, but who could guess the hour? Trajen took them to the stables for their horses and escorted them to the northern gate. Before they passed through, Sir Caleb tethered the horses in a line.
Trajen bid them farewell and the guards opened the gate. No horizon met them, only a black void. Achan didn't want to go into it again. How could Lady Tara live in Darkness and stay so agreeable?
He tried to focus on Lady Tara, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Gren. Ever since Sir Gavin's lesson, Achan continually checked on her, found her cooking, cleaning, even sleeping. It took a bit before Achan realized she'd been sleeping. He first feared he'd ingested aleh, but he remained focused and almost fell asleep himself. At least he now knew a way of getting to sleep when his mind refused to rest.
Sir Caleb Agros.
Achan opened to the knight. Aye?
We have a long journey. Inko has agreed to keep the others in their heads by discussing the Great War. While this is information you need, I feel there's a more pressing matter. Women.
Achan frowned. Is this about what I said to that peasant girl?
That and more. I managed to get word to her through Ressa that you are just learning the rules of courtesy and did not mean to flatter her so. But I can't keep doing that. I fear we must spend a great deal of time retraining you. I assume no man mentored you on your coming-of-age day?
Should someone have?
It's tradition. Under the circumstances of your upbringing, you've turned out much better than I could have hoped for. You carry yourself well, are brave, honorable, and loyal, all traits necessary for a good king. But I fear you came to these traits of your own will, therefore you'll always look at them through your own perspective. I must teach what no nobleman took the time to impart.
Achan steeled himself against whatever flaw concerned Sir Caleb, thankful the conversation would be silent between the two of them. Say what you must then.
When a boy becomes a page-with hopes of someday becoming a knight-he begins certain trainings. Aye, he learns to fight, but he also learns a code of conduct, for a knight is sworn to protect the weak and defenseless. Should a man accept this path, he must eat, sleep, and breathe loyalty, courage, and honor.
Exactly why Achan had craved knighthood.
Many knights ignore this and seek instead to exalt themselves through sport of tournament, philandering, exploits at war. But true knighthood isn't about exalting the knight. It's about the knight becoming a servant to his people. As king, you're to be the knight of all knights. Nobility is not a birthright. It's defined by one's actions. You've seen firsthand how Esek behaved in this position. You're nothing like him, yet it's easy for a man who suddenly gains fame and fortune to stumble. And the higher a man is exalted, the farther he has to fall. I seek only to help you navigate the righteous road ahead.
None of this surprised Achan. Very well. What must I know?
Now that you're a man, and a prince, you must not trust only your heart in matters of right and wrong. A man's heart is deceitful above all things. Your own heart will betray you if you don't guard it wisely.
That seemed a bit farfetched. But Sir Caleb hadn't known Achan very long. Maybe he feared Achan would start behaving like Esek. How do I guard myself?
My best advice is to wait on Arman in all matters.
What if he doesn't answer? He's a little spotty on the advice.
He always answers, my boy. Many times, the answer is simply no. But men complicate matters because they listen to their heart more than to Arman. Your ability to honor Arman and obey his will for your life and Er'Rets is what will set you apart as a good or bad king. Remember, his ways are not man's ways and are often confusing, especially when a man's heart is convinced something is right.
So how did I err in speaking with the peasant girl?
You played with her heart.
Did I? How?
Sir Caleb paused a long moment. Arman has created men and women differently.
And I thank him for it.
There's more to it than outward appearance. Our hearts are different. Women are more attentive to words and feelings than men. Aye, there's always an exception, but this is a general rule. When you speak fondly to a young woman, even if you're only being polite, she may conclude you're interested in her romantically. So you must choose your words and actions carefully in order to honor-but not mislead-each woman you meet. You want to leave them better off from having encountered you, not worse.
How could I have left her worse? She seemed to like the compliment I paid her.
You are the Cro
wn Prince. Women will love you for that alone. You must be kind and courteous without encouraging their hearts to attach. And you must never take advantage of their eagerness to please you. If you indulge them, they'll only become more attached. The more attached, the more devastated they'll be when you don't make them your queen.
Achan huffed a dry laugh. I didn't think I got to choose my queen.
Your Highness, please. Do not take this lightly. This charm you have is a power you must not abuse.
Achan sighed. Then what would've been the proper way to respond to the young lady?
Your words were a bit inflated but would have been acceptable had you not kissed her hand. Only kiss a hand offered, which no peasant should do. Hand kissing originated as a sign of fealty, man to man, as in the kissing of a signet ring. Nowadays a lady might offer her hand in greeting, but only if her social status is equal to yours. For you to take a woman's hand when it's not offered signifies personal interest on your part. Remember, the greater the capacity for pleasure, the greater the capacity for pain. For the sake of Er'Rets, you must not be naive to temptations that could tarnish your name, your calling, and your future family.
Achan closed his eyes. His body swayed from side to side from the horse's movement. I do not relish my birthright. I'm terrified of ruling anyone, let alone all Er'Rets. I don't intend on doing anything rash and am thankful you're here to keep me from humiliating myself.
Ah, but it's the very things a man never intends to do that sneak up and ensnare him. I'll do all I can to keep you safe, but I pray you won't forget Arman is with you always and is your foremost advisor.
Sir Caleb went on to describe more etiquette regarding women of different classes. Then he added, to Achan's chagrin, another lecture on what kind of woman Achan could marry, as if he had forgotten. This only set Achan's sights on Lady Tara more, despite Sir Caleb's claim she wasn't prominent enough.
"Sir Caleb," Sparrow's audible voice startled Achan, "when might we practice sword fighting again?"
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