To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

by Jill Williamson

Lady Nitsa Amal, Duchess of Carm

  Achan leaned back and released the scroll. It sprang into a tight coil against his mug. Well, that settled it. A lightheaded spell gripped Achan. He hooked a finger around the cord at his neck. Farewell then, Vrell Sparrow.

  The knights burst into laughter. Laughter!

  Achan looked up, eyes wide, heat warming his face. “Does anyone know what she looks like?”

  Another bout of laughter.

  “She’s a very comely young woman, Achan,” Sir Gavin said.

  “As pretty as her mother,” Sir Eagan added.

  Well, that was comforting. He reached one trembling hand for the silky burgundy fabric and lifted it up. It was, indeed, a woman’s dress sleeve. Made of thick satin, the sleeve was narrow around the arm but tapered into a pointed bell at the end. A single golden cord ran down the sleeve’s edge. The scent of rose water made him think of Sparrow.

  He supposed all women liked rose water.

  He stared at it for a long time, then found his voice. “I’m to wear this?”

  The men sniggered. Achan dropped the sleeve, refilled his cup, and downed the water in one long gulp.

  Sir Eagan came to his aid. The knight walked to Achan’s side and snagged the sleeve from the table. “You have never seen a knight wear a lady’s token at tournament?”

  Achan nodded. “I’ve seen them tuck handkerchiefs into their helm or tie them ’round their arm.”

  “That is what you will do with this sleeve.” Sir Eagan threaded the fabric behind Achan’s right arm, around his sling.

  “He’s naturally left-handed,” Sir Gavin said. “It should go on his sword arm.”

  “Is he?” Sir Eagan said. “I should have guessed.”

  He gently tugged the sleeve from Achan’s sore arm and, within moments, had tied it around Achan’s left bicep. It hung bright against his light blue tunic, tied snugly so it wouldn’t fall, a constant reminder of yet another yoke on his life.

  Again he thought of Sparrow.

  He met Sir Eagan’s eyes. The knight smiled. “You look as though we have asked you to walk the castle in naught but your skin. ’Tis not so bad, Your Highness.” He stepped behind Achan and rubbed his shoulders. Head bent down, he spoke softly in Achan’s left ear. “Now, you are not only a hero to this land, you are a hero to one woman, which will tug at the heartstrings of every woman in Er’Rets, who will beg their men to go out and support you. For people are easily caught up in a great love story and are often eager to do their part in making it succeed.”

  And if the groom wasn’t eager to be caught up in his own great love story, what of that?

  Achan stood and handed the scroll to Sir Eagan. “Let us go eat, then, and tug at some heartstrings.”

  * * *

  “How dare you!”

  “I gave you opportunity to give me good reason.”

  Hot rage flashed through Vrell’s body. “A day? One day? Mother! How could you do this to me? You have no right.”

  “I have every right. Averella, I have coddled you far too long. Not only can I see you love that boy, I know he cares for you a great deal. He respects you, dearest, enough to sacrifice his honor for a girl he thinks is a stray. I understand you are embarrassed, but I am convinced this is Arman’s will. It is also the best possible match for uniting the people of this duchy and Er’Rets. It is far better than an arranged marriage, this—”

  “—is an arranged marriage. Mother, you promised.”

  “Promised what?”

  “That I could choose whom I would marry.”

  “No. I promised to consider your own choice for a husband. And I did consider allowing you to marry Master Rennan. But now that you both have relinquished your desires, and now that the perfect offer has come along, one from a good man, a man you love and who loves you—and happens to be our future king—so that you are marrying and choosing whom to marry, because you are too stubborn to admit your love, I am taking charge.”

  Vrell steeled her emotions. “I will not do it.”

  “You will leave your king standing at the altar? The man you love? You will disgrace him publicly in front of the whole kingdom? He already wears your sleeve. Averella, stop ranting about and act your age.”

  “My age?” Vrell could not stand it. She had been home less than a week and felt more trapped and suffocated than she ever had inside that disguise. She dug deep into a place she did not want to go, to concerns and questions she did not want answers to. “This is a nonissue if I am not your heir.”

  “Do not be absurd, dearest. You are the eldest. You are my heir.”

  “But if I am not the daughter of Duke Amal, I am not heir to Carm.” She paused, watching her mother’s porcelain skin pink, her sculpted eyebrows crumple.

  “I do not understand you, Averella. What are you hedging about?”

  Vrell stood tall. “I do not think Duke Amal is my father. My heart tells me you have deceived me in this matter. My heart tells me Sir Eagan Barak is my father. Do you deny it?”

  Mother lowered herself to the sofa, put a hand to her cheek, and released a shaky breath. “What in all Er’Rets led you to believe such a thing?”

  “Besides the fact that he and I have the same face?”

  Mother stared at Vrell a moment then clutched her ashen face in her hands. Jagged sobs erupted from her, bringing tears to Vrell’s eyes as well.

  “I knew it.” Vrell started to cry. “Mother, how could you allow yourself to…?”

  A silence passed where both women wept. Mother caught hold of her composure first.

  “I did not want to marry Duke Amal. My heart was broken and I was weak. I felt Arman had abandoned me. In my sorrow I turned from Arman and clung to the one my heart loved. And it only made me love Eagan more, which made everything harder. But I obeyed my father and married the duke. Months passed before I discovered I was with child. I had no way of knowing who…”

  Mother shook off her tears and lifted her chin. “But when you were older it was plain to my eyes. And when Eagan saw you, he knew at once. He promised not to claim you. He promised he would let me live in peace. But I could not. I had planned to tell the duke the truth, but King Axel died and Eagan went to Ice Island. I lost all hope and figured the truth would do no good then.”

  “And now?” Vrell sniffled. “Sir Eagan still does not wish to claim me?”

  “He begged I tell you the truth but promised not to publicly claim you, not to upset your life.”

  “Whether all Er’Rets knows or not, my life is already upset. Mother, how can I live as I have? How can I pretend to be your heir? It is a lie.”

  “No,” Mother said. “You are my eldest. I choose my heir.”

  “That is not how it is done. Carm should go to the Amal bloodline.”

  “No one need know.”

  “But I know.” Vrell wandered to Mother’s desk, trembling with a myriad of emotions. “I cannot live a lie any longer. It is all I have done these past months, and it has nearly destroyed my sanity. I will not be a fraud. I abandon my birthright to Gypsum. Let her accept this proposal.”

  “Averella!”

  Vrell darted behind Mother’s changing screen, behind the tapestry, and into the dark corridor.

  Up, up, up the steps she ran, to the top of Ryson Tower. She hugged one of the stone posts that held the tower roof and gazed out over the vineyards that stretched to the horizon on all sides of Carmine. The sun hid behind a fluffy white cloud. A cool breeze blew against her face and tightened her skin as it dried her tears.

  For so long she had ached for home. But now that she was here, it no longer felt like a home. Where did she belong? Queen of Er’Rets? Heir to Carm? An illegitimate daughter did not deserve either. She could stay here and serve Gypsum, ready her for her calling as duchess. But if Vrell refused to marry Achan, did that mean Gypsum would have to?

  Vrell wept. She could not bear to witness such a thing.

  She stared at the signet ring in her palm. The ruby ston
e shone in the sun. Achan had agreed to marry a stranger. It might not have been his plan, but he had not fought it. Barely a week had passed since his declarations in Mitspah. He had given her up much more easily that even she expected. Was it because he was respectful of her choice to be apart from him or because he did not care?

  Mother had said he still cared about Vrell Sparrow.

  She should confess the truth and accept his proposal. But the proposal was breeched now that her lineage was confirmed.

  “Ahh!” Vrell screamed out her frustration and sank to her knees. Three birds fluttered out from their perch in the roof’s rafters, startled by Vrell’s cry. She watched them fly away, wishing she could fly too, like a real sparrow. Wishing she could start over fresh, honest.

  She hugged her knees to her chest. True, she did not want to be queen. Such a life would be so difficult, so demanding. But what else could she be? She was a decent healer. Perhaps she could serve in the coming war, use the gifts Arman had given her to help Achan’s cause.

  A thought sprang up at the back of her mind. It seemed insane, wild, scary, and completely reckless.

  She sought the face of Jax mi Katt and sent a knock.

  Vrell! It’s good to hear from you. How can I be of service?

  Are you still in Carmine?

  How did you know I was in—

  Never mind. Could the Mârad use another healer? A healer who is a woman?

  A long silence. War is coming. We can always use healers. But you must be able to defend yourself. I cannot watch over you.

  I do not need a nursemaid. When you are ready to ride south, I shall join you.

  Vrell broke the connection. She would ride south, join the Mârad rebels as the stray healer girl Vrell Sparrow, a name that now fit her in every way, since her father would not publicly claim her. She would serve her king.

  But she would do it her way.

  NOT THE END

  This is the end of book 2 of the Blood of Kings trilogy. Book 3 continues the adventures of Achan and Vrell as they fight for Light to overcome Darkness. Sign up for newsletters from Marcher Lord Press or Jill Williamson’s website to get updates on the status of From Darkness Won (Blood of Kings, Book 3).

  A Note from the Author

  Thanks for reading To Darkness Fled, the second installment in the Blood of Kings series.

  I’d love to hear from you. E-mail me with your thoughts on the book, join my Facebook page, or sign up for my free newsletter to get updates on the third book and my upcoming events.

  If you’d like to help make this book a success, tell people about it, loan your copy to a friend, and ask your library or bookstore to order it. Also, posting a review on Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com is very helpful.

  My email is: info@jillwilliamson.com.

  If you’d like to download discussion questions or explore Er’Rets a bit more with my interactive map, check out my website: www.jillwilliamson.com.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to God for getting me through this last year. It has been an amazing journey. God is good to me, all the time.

  Big thanks to Brad, Luke, and Kaitlyn for their patience and support.

  Thanks to Jeff Gerke, a brilliant editor. He points out the best things, like magically appearing freckles and chairs. I have learned so much from him.

  To the members of the Christian Young Adult Writers and Readers critique groups—Ann, Bridgett, Carman, Christopher, Crystal, Claire, Deb, Diana, Durga, Gretchen, Jacob, Kasey, Katie, Kathleen, Laura, Lynn, Maria, Mary H, Mary W, Nicole, Patrick, Shanti, Shelley, Stephanie, and Vernona—for your wisdom, support, prayers, and encouragement. You all are the best!

  Thanks to my local readers: Philena English, Rachel Bentz, and Kylie Emery. I appreciate you taking the time to help me.

  Laura Schuff, thank you! You are a brilliant young woman. What an amazing help you were.

  Thanks to Cheryl Secomb and her friends JoAnna and Tamar for helping me with my Hebrew translations.

  Hugs to all my readers. Thanks for reading about Achan and Vrell. One more book to go!