Sparrow? What room is yours? Where does he have you?
Sparrow didn’t answer.
Sir Gavin! Where are you?
In the courtyard. I saw nothing in the halls, so I came out—
Sparrow’s quarters, where are they?
On the fourth floor. Achan, what’s wrong?
Polk is attacking Sparrow. Achan sprinted back to the stairwell and took the steps three at a time. He ran down the fourth floor. Unsure of which door to try, he skidded to a stop over the wet stone. Sparrow! Where are you?
When the boy still didn’t answer, Achan found Polk’s mind again and looked out through the deviant’s eyes. Polk had pinned Sparrow to the floor, straddling the boy’s body and arms. His thrill brought a scream to Achan’s lips. He had no time to search every room. What could he do?
Polk! Stop, Achan commanded.
Polk froze, scanned the room, then reached back and pulled his boot knife. He held the small blade against Sparrow’s cheek. Not a word, you hear? Or I’ll slice you from top to bottom. No one skins an animal like I do.
He cut open Sparrow’s tunic, baring a strange undershirt that blossomed bits of wool where the knife had cut.
Polk laughed. Let’s see how you look without your fake fat, shall we? He slid the knife under the neckline of the disguise and started to cut.
Achan concentrated. He was Polk. His hands were Polk’s hands. He was cutting.
He stopped cutting. He pulled the knife back.
Polk yelled, dropped the knife.
Achan forced Polk to stand, to walk to the door and open it.
A man stood at the other end of the hall, by the stairs. The Crown Prince. How had he—?
For the first time ever, Achan moved his own body without leaving Polk’s mind. He walked slowly, boots slapping over the wet rushes. He reached Polk, released his mind.
Polk wheezed and cowered against the wall, staring, eyes wild. “What did you do to me? Are you a mage?”
Achan punched Polk in the face. Once. Twice. He pulled back to punch him again, but Polk, already unconscious, slid slowly to the floor. Achan took a long, calming breath, shook his throbbing hand, and pushed open Sparrow’s door.
The torch in the jug had burned beneath the lip and lit the room with a dull glow. A narrow bed, the sideboard, a stool. The floor was littered in dishes and linens.
Where had Sparrow gone?
A shattered breath pulled Achan’s gaze back to the sideboard. He spotted the boy wedged between the sideboard and bed, sitting in that small Sparrow way, knees against his chest. Achan approached him, stepped on something soft and looked down.
He moved his boot to reveal a wad of shorn wool. He squatted and picked it up, sniffed it. Mildew.
He held it up. “Sparrow, wh-what is this?”
Sparrow watched him with wide, bleary eyes.
Achan’s heart was still pounding in his chest. “Are you hurt?” He held out a hand to help the boy up.
Sparrow’s bottom lip protruded, trembled. He sniffled and released the most high-pitched moan Achan had ever heard, as if trying not to cry and failing miserably.
“Little Cham?” Shung stepped into the room, sword drawn.
Uncertain what to do, Achan waved a hand. “Sparrow, come out of there.”
But Sparrow only cried harder.
“It’s okay.” Achan reached for him, grabbed his shoulders.
Sparrow tensed, shook his head. His hair, completely loose from its thong, fell over his eyes. “Please do not touch me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Achan grabbed Sparrow’s upper arms and pulled.
“No!” Sparrow tucked his chin against his knees, pushing his shoulders against the wall so Achan failed to lift him.
“Shung, help me.”
Shung and Achan each grabbed an arm and hoisted Sparrow—kicking and screaming—out of the crack. They set him on his feet before the bed. The boy stood trembling, slouched, chin down. A leather belt hung around his neck. Polk’s belt. His arms were bound behind him and his tunic hung open to reveal the padded undergarment, sliced down the belly and sprouting wisps of shorn wool.
Boot steps slapped stone in the corridor, growing nearer.
Achan could only stare at the fake belly Sparrow wore, his mind filled with questions but completely choked.
Sir Gavin ran inside and slid to a stop.
Achan finally managed to utter, “I don’t understand.”
“Shung does.” Shung’s bushy eyebrows cocked like two caterpillars. “The little fox is a vixen.”
34
Achan’s breath caught. Sparrow was a her? “I thought Polk…”
Sparrow’s bottom lip protruded again. “He put me in the sideboard then went to kill you.” Her voice cracked, morphing back into that keening whine.
“No, now…don’t do that. Don’t cry.” A girl. A woman. All this time? “Blazes! Why?”
“Achan.” Sir Gavin crossed to Sparrow’s side. “We saw no reason to tell you.”
“You knew. This is the big secret. Why Sparrow sneaks off in the woods, bathes in your room, cleans his teeth. Her teeth.” Achan linked his fingers and set his hands on his head. What was he supposed to do with this information?
“Shung, bring Polk in and close the door.” Sir Gavin loosed the belt from Sparrow’s throat, removed his boot knife and cut the bonds on her wrists. She immediately hugged herself and burrowed her face against Sir Gavin’s chest, weeping. The old knight wrapped an arm around her and patted her ear. “There now, child. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Me?” Achan’s veins smoldered. Sir Gavin, I don’t understand what this is all about.
Sir Gavin cocked an eyebrow at the door. Polk, Achan. I’m asking her if Polk violated her.
A chill turned the heat in Achan’s veins to ice.
Shung dragged Polk into the room by his ankles and kicked the door shut.
“My mouth,” Sparrow said. “The belt.”
Sir Gavin took hold of Sparrow’s ears and tipped her head back, eyes fixed on her face. “Aye, I see you’ll have some bruises there. Anything else?”
“Throat.”
As Sir Gavin examined Sparrow’s neck, Achan stewed, wedged between overwhelming sympathy for this petrified creature and consuming disgust for her blubbering.
This was why the little fox had been acting so odd. Ever blushing. Sitting so small. The portly stomach and gangly limbs. Achan had discovered Vrell Sparrow’s secret at last. That’s why he’d been such an odd duck.
But what of it? Why go so far to conceal her gender? He supposed it was a horrible world for a stray woman. He had been treated badly, but the stories he knew of young stray girls—pretty ones, especially…
It made some sense, he supposed. The Kingsguards had come to take her to Master Hadar. A boy would have been safer traveling with men, especially a man like Khai Mageia.
Sparrow’s voice pulled him from his mental tirade. “Achan saved me.”
He studied Sparrow’s face. Knowing now that he looked on a girl—an awkward thought as she wore trousers and that ridiculous fake belly—he could see Sparrow was a pretty little thing. Round face with porcelain skin and those ever-blushing cheeks, wide eyes, a small mouth that always seemed to be frowning slightly, likely due to all the worrisome thoughts under that mess of black hair.
Again, Sparrow spoke, pulling Achan out from the fog in his mind. “Polk said he was going to kill you. He poisoned your goblet in Tsaftown and slipped us all âleh tonight in the clove wine. Someone should sweep your room for poison.”
Achan blinked. Poison? But before he could formulate a reply, Sir Gavin spoke.
“A blessing that I abhor clove wine, but the rest of our men are likely silenced. I’ll go tell Caleb and Eagan to search Achan’s chambers right away. Achan, you find Kurtz and Inko and ask them to take Polk to the dungeon. I’d like Shung to stay outside Vrell’s room until we get this sorted out.” Sir Gavin patted Sparrow’s ear once more
and stepped toward the door.
“Wait just a moment, Sir Gavin.” Achan wasn’t done with this. “I don’t know why you deceived me. But tomorrow, Miss Sparrow will get herself a dress and come clean to everyone.”
Sparrow’s cheeks darkened. “You think you can tell me what to do because you are the Crown Prince?”
His gaze flitted from her eyes to the red welts across her cheeks. “No. Because I saved your hide.”
Sparrow turned her head away, jaw set.
Sir Gavin shook his head. “That’s unwise, Achan. We must keep Vrell’s secret a while longer. Shung, I ask the same of you. ’Tis improper for an unmarried woman to travel alone with one man, let alone hundreds. Let’s see her safely to Carmine—where she can start a new life. You tell everyone she’s a woman, you bring her a whole host of trouble.”
Achan shrugged. “I’ll tell the men she’s to be left alone.”
“Ah, then it looks like you’re claiming her as your own and that isn’t proper. It’d also ruin both your reputations if it came out you’d been traveling together all this time.”
Again Achan was making decisions without considering the repercussions. He should consult Sir Eagan on this matter. “But I don’t feel comfortable with this.” He gestured to that strange belly. “I’m afraid I’ll be the one to bungle it.”
Sparrow’s green eyes met his. She straightened. “If you don’t mind my asking, Your Highness, how did you find out?”
“Uh… I’ve been seeking the traitor. Shadowing people. I suspected Polk had sour motives.” Achan scratched the back of his neck. “I’m truly glad you weren’t the traitor, Sparrow.”
A shaky breath blew past her lips. “How could you even consider that?
“In my experience, a man who—someone who lies once, lies about other things. What was I supposed to think?”
Sparrow’s glare could freeze the waterfall overhead. Achan didn’t care. Let her stew about this for a while.
“Achan, allow Vrell to play her role a bit longer,” Sir Gavin said. “She’ll stay away from you so you won’t have to worry about a slip of the tongue.”
Achan squeezed his hand into a fist. Sparrow was his friend. He didn’t want her to stay away from him, and he didn’t want her to go off and start a new life. He couldn’t say that, though. Sir Caleb would have his hide for misleading a woman’s heart. Still…
“She will not stay away. She’ll come back to our chambers where she should’ve been all along. I realize you were trying to help, Sir Gavin, but by putting her out of our presence, you endangered her life. She’ll take Sir Eagan and Kurtz’s room. They can bunk with me or you.”
“Do not blame Sir Gavin.” Sparrow’s raspy voice caught. “He is the only one who has looked out for me.”
Achan clenched his teeth. “If you would have told me, I’d have done the same.”
“Do you have any idea how hard this has been?” Sparrow asked. “For eight months I have been alone. I have kept my secret without a soul discovering it. Even Macoun Hadar could not pry it from me. But you…” She scowled at him as if he were some beast of Barth.
“I had a job to do,” Achan said. “I’m sorry if your life has been hard, Miss Sparrow, but—”
“Oh, do not start with the sad tales of Achan Cham, the prince raised as a stray.”
“—but I had thought we were friends.”
“What happened to you was rotten, but it is all better now. You have nice clothes, handfuls of servants.”
“And since I couldn’t go back to Sitna, you became my only friend.”
“People love you wherever you go. Women fall at your feet—”
“So forgive me if I’m a little upset that my friend not only lied to me—”
“—you are handsome and clever. You do not need me, or anyone else, to hold your hand.”
“—but I can no longer spend time with my friend because it’s improper.”
“If you cannot comprehend why I refuse to marry a pig and be forced to bear him children, then you—”
“As a woman, you talk a lot. So forgive me, Miss Sparrow, but I liked you better a lad.”
“—have a lot to—”
“Enough!” Sir Gavin stepped in between them. “These walls aren’t thick enough to guard this conversation. If you two cannot speak peaceably, don’t speak at all.”
Sparrow folded her arms, turned her head, her nose tilted up, her eyes downcast.
Achan frowned. Sparrow’s cheeks were pink from yelling. “You think I’m handsome?”
Sparrow rolled her eyes. “When you shave your face, comb your hair, and wear clean clothing. You do not think all these women throw themselves at you only because you are the prince?”
Actually, that’s exactly what he’d thought. Either way, why should she care what other women— He propped a hand on his hip and laughed. “Oh, I see. All this time, all the strange things you’ve said on my behalf. Jaira, Ressa, Yumikak, Lady Tara, Beska. You were jealous.”
Sparrow shot him a withering look. “I see being prince has brought on a new level of arrogance.”
“You deny it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Ha.” Achan grinned and scratched behind his ear. “No, no, it all makes perfect sense.”
Blood flushed to Sparrow’s round face. She stepped up to Achan, eyes narrowed. “You. Are an arrogant pig.”
Sir Gavin seized Achan’s upper arm and pulled him back a step. “I can see the only way to end this madness is to drag one of you out. Achan, let’s go see about your chamber.”
Achan allowed Sir Gavin to tow him to the door, watching Sparrow closely, smirking as her anger melted.
She sent one more wide-eyed plea. “You will not tell?”
He bowed low and dramatically, fighting to conceal his smile. “Your gender is safe with me, Miss Sparrow.”
She strode up to Achan, stopping inches from him. She gripped his bicep in one hand and pressed her finger over his lips with the other. He straightened, tense, and exhaled as if her finger were a switch that controlled his breathing. He could only stare into her green eyes, befuddled.
Her finger trailed down his chin, tapped his chest once, then she grabbed his shirt and elbow, and pushed. He fell back. Her leg hooked perfectly behind his knee, sweeping his foot out from under him.
His body twisted as it fell. He hit the floor on his left side, cracking his elbow against the wood. A tremor shot up his arm.
Sparrow looked down, her lips pursed in a thin smile. “Do not call me miss.”
* * *
Sir Eagan and Sir Caleb discovered several poisons in Achan’s chambers. A tray of tarts, a bottle of wine, the water pitcher, even his bed sheets had been dusted in a powder ground from a deadly coral Sir Eagan called rôsh. Lord Yarden insisted Achan move across the hall into new chambers, just to be safe.
This room was identical to his previous one, except that it looked out over the eastern side of the stronghold rather than the western side. Sparrow had moved into the servants’ quarters on the northern end of Achan’s room with Sir Gavin. Sir Caleb, Sir Eagan, Inko, and Kurtz were using the larger servants’ quarters on the southern end. Shung would sleep on a pallet in Achan’s room.
Now they occupied a small meeting room on the second floor. Everyone but Achan sat crowded around a rectangular table, going over—yet again—the evening’s events, with exception of Sparrow’s secret, of course.
Achan stood at the window, glaring at the torchlights on the curtain wall. He couldn’t sit at the table, for he couldn’t stop staring at Sparrow. And now the discussion had somehow turned into a lecture, one he felt he did not deserve. “But if controlling a man’s mind is the only way to save someone, why is it wrong?”
“Because it’s immoral,” Sir Eagan said. “Arman didn’t give you the gift to force a man’s free will.”
Achan spun to face Sir Eagan. “Yet it’s okay to physically harm him? Bind him, lock him up. Even torture is allowed, but not controll
ing his mind? Making him stop hurting someone? Why would Arman give me the ability if he didn’t want me to use it?”
Sir Gavin sighed out his nose. “Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial. Achan, I’ll not tell you how to use your gifts, but I will always hold you accountable.”
“Gifted men have gotten accustomed to this kind of control so that they do it without even realizing they are manipulating others,” Sir Eagan said. “You might think, in exasperation, that your valet go jump off a cliff for advising you to wear fancy clothes, only to find that he has done just that, subconsciously unable to disobey your command. Few men have such bloodvoicing power, but it is plain that you do. Controlling others will not make you a better man.”
“We worry for you, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said, “that you’ll become addicted to this control without realizing it.”
“He needs proper training by someone powerful enough and young enough to keep up with him,” Sir Gavin said.
Achan lowered himself onto the wooden bench, which creaked under his weight.
My, what have we been eating, Your Highness? Sparrow asked, instantly drawing his eyes to her face.
Achan closed his mind, startled he’d forgotten to keep his defenses up.
“Sorry,” Sparrow said from across the table.
She wore her fake belly again and the effect confused Achan’s thoughts. She so looked like a boy—yet he knew better now. You startled me. I hadn’t realized I’d left myself unprotected again. How do you remember to guard so well?
Sparrow shrugged, cheeks darkening so her complexion looked like marbled opal and rose. Achan forced his eyes and mind away from Sparrow’s appearance. How was he to deal with her teasing now that he knew she was a woman?
“Why cannot you be teaching him, Eagan?”
“I am quite rusty, Inko. I suggest Duchess Amal.”
“A logical suggestion,” Sir Gavin said. “I’ll ask her when we arrive. We’ll leave in two days.”
Achan’s attention flitted back to the men. Who was asking who what?
“And what shall we do with Polk?” Sir Caleb asked.
“He cannot bloodvoice,” Sir Eagan said. “It stands to reason he has a partner who can.”
To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2) Page 42