To Darkness Fled--Kindle

by Williamson, Jill

  Achan cast his gaze to the floor, overwhelmed by the pressure of such flattery. "You're too kind, my lady." But she'd thought him a sweet creature. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

  "You will fight, then?"

  "At some point we'll have to," Sir Gavin said. "We realize Lord Gershom may not want to take a political stand, but we'd like to ask for supplies to aid us on our journey to Tsaftown. And might we spend a night or two to rest? As of now, we have no way to compensate Lord Gershom's hospitality, but should Achan win the throne--"

  "I beg of you, do not fret over compensation. You are welcome to stay here without recompense." She stood and smoothed out her skirt. "I will have our best rooms readied for you and your men. I--how many are in your party?"

  Sir Gavin stood as well, so Achan did too. "Five, my lady," Sir Gavin said. "The others are settling the horses."

  "I'll see that Ghee prepares a feast in your honor."

  Sir Gavin bowed. "I thank you for your courtesy, my lady."

  "As do I," Achan said.

  Lady Tara's lips curled into a small smile. "Would you like a tour of the ground floor?"

  She had asked the question of Achan. She now knew his rank was higher than Sir Gavin's and followed protocol by addressing him first. Achan needed to act his part if he hoped to impress her enough to want to marry him. The mere idea sent a wave of heat through his body.

  "That would be nice, thank you." Achan offered his arm to his--he hoped--future bride.

  * * *

  Vrell stood inside the front doors to the diamond-shaped great hall with Sir Caleb and Inko. A wooden staircase wrapped around the right half of the room until it reached a door on the second level. The rough-hewn head table arched in a quarter circle from the wide corner of the room. Four long, wooden tables fanned out from it like sunbeams.

  Servants trailed in and out, setting the tables. It appeared Lord Gershom would dine with them after all. She prayed he would let them stay a day or two. She longed to sleep in a real bed. Hopefully, one she would not have to share with Inko.

  Achan and Sir Gavin had been gone a while. Where had Carmack taken them? Sir Caleb and Inko stood on the outside of the banister, whispering. Vrell did not care to eavesdrop. Those two argued over the pettiest concerns.

  A woman's familiar giggle straightened Vrell's posture. Three figures entered the great hall through a door on the far wall. Sir Gavin, Achan, and Lady Tara Livna, who clung to Achan's arm like lint to wool.

  Vrell emitted a small squeak and sat on the bottom step. Every muscle in her body tensed. What was her cousin doing in Meribah Corner, of all places? She peered between the banister railing, up between Inko and Sir Caleb's bodies. The trio had not yet reached them.

  Sir Caleb muttered, "Well, well. What has our young prince found?"

  "Trouble," Inko said. "I'm insisting Lady Tara is not being a wise choice. It'll be gaining us nothing we're not already having."

  "But should he choose her, it is his choice, despite what we say," Sir Caleb said.

  Inko propped a hand on the doorframe. "I am doubting he is knowing that. This choice will be affecting so much. We should not be allowing him to be making it alone."

  Sir Gavin stopped beside Inko. "My lady, allow me to introduce Sir Caleb Agros and Inko son of Mopti, two fellow Kingsguardsmen. It's been our sole purpose these past years to find the true prince and see his birthright restored."

  Vrell watched between Inko and Sir Gavin's arms.

  Tara wore a stunning red gown and her white-blond curls were pinned up under a golden net. She curtsied. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance. I hope you will enjoy your stay at Meribah Corner."

  "I'm sure we will, my lady," Sir Caleb said.

  "If you will excuse me a moment, I would like to check on dinner, then I shall return and see you to your rooms."

  Achan released her arm and bowed. "Your kindness is beyond measure. We've not been so welcomed in all Er'Rets."

  Except when Koyukuk threw a ball in his honor. Vrell rolled her eyes. Achan had royal blood, all right. He could spread on charm like icing when a pretty woman was around.

  Tara beamed, her cheeks as pink as the inside of a watermelon. Oh, yes. Vrell was familiar with the way Achan's smile could fluster a girl.

  But Tara's good breeding didn't allow emotions to affect her perfectly polite response. "It is my humble pleasure, Your Highness." She curtsied again, and walked back the way she'd come, looking back over her shoulder twice before exiting the great hall.

  "My, my, Your Highness," Sir Caleb said. "I see why you favor her so."

  Achan sucked in a deep breath, seeming taller somehow. "She'd make a charming queen, wouldn't she?" He beamed, evidently quite pleased with himself.

  Vrell snorted. "If you desire only beauty and polite conversation."

  Achan leaned between Inko and Sir Caleb and peeked over the banister. "That's all you see, Sparrow? I don't discount her virtue, for we all can see that clearly. But I see much more. She is kind, wise, well-spoken--more so than I'll ever be. I'd even go so far as to call her a diplomat for having accepted us here in spite of Lord Gershom's refusal." He glanced at Sir Gavin. "Doesn't that show her strength of character and wit?"

  Sir Gavin inhaled deeply. "Aye, Achan. She's a stunning woman, I'll grant you that."

  "Plus she was kind to me when she thought me no more than a servant. Where else could I find such nobility of character amongst nobility? All the rest are like Jaira."

  "That is unfair," Vrell said. "How many eligible noblewomen have you met, Achan? Four at my count. I don't trust Mandzee, though she is not as calculating as Jaira. But Lady Gali's kindness equaled Tara's."

  Achan paled slightly. Vrell knew he loathed the idea of marrying Lady Gali.

  Sir Caleb jumped in. "Try to see the bigger picture, Your Majesty. We've traveled hundreds of miles and only passed over a portion of your kingdom. A king must reach as many of his people as he can--all of them, should be your goal. Taking Lady Tara as a bride will help little. Meaning her no disrespect, but she's no one to the majority of your subjects."

  That stung. The way these men spoke of a woman's future...as if any woman would be thrilled with whatever offer came her way. Vrell dressed as a boy because she refused to fall victim to the false Prince Gidon's demands. But she sympathized with Achan's desire to choose his own wife, even if he had set his sights on the most perfect-looking woman Vrell knew.

  Achan's scowl told Vrell he understood and didn't like it. "And you would have me marry who? Lady Gali?"

  "No," Sir Caleb said. "Someone of greater title than Lady Tara or Lady Gali."

  "And what if this person doesn't want me? Should we suffer an unhappy life together?"

  "For the sake of your kingdom? Yes," Sir Caleb said. "You're misled indeed if you think being king is a warrant to do whatever you please. A good king sacrifices his needs for those of his kingdom. A good queen would do the same."

  "You're wanting to be a good king, are you not?"

  Achan's smoldering glare fixated on Inko. "I never said I wanted to be king at all. Maybe I'll sign treaties with everyone and marry Gren." He pivoted on his heel and stalked away.

  "Arman be helping us," Inko said.

  Vrell hung her head. She wanted to be angry at Achan. Why, she couldn't say. Jealousy over the way he doted on Tara, her own cousin? She hated to think herself so catty. She hadn't wanted to marry Esek enough to go into hiding dressed as a boy. What if Achan fled as Vrell had? What would Er'Rets do without him? Esek would rule unchallenged.

  Achan faced a terrible burden indeed. Vrell would not wish it on anyone.

  * * *

  True to her word, Tara showed them to their rooms. Before Vrell could follow Inko into the chamber, Sir Gavin drew her aside.

  "I'm to follow Lady Tara downstairs to discuss what supplies we need. Would you like to speak with her privately regarding your situation? You're family, are you not?"

  "She is my cousin. Do you thin
k I should remain here?"

  "If that's your wish, but I'd have to settle it with your mother first. I promised to see you safely home. For now, shall I speak to Lady Tara on your behalf?"

  What would Tara think of Vrell traipsing across Er'Rets with a pack of men? "Yes, thank you, Sir Gavin."

  She followed Sir Gavin down to a small solar with a crackling fireplace. Vrell waited in the doorway while Sir Gavin requested supplies. He sat beside Tara on a high-backed sofa. Carmack stood at Tara's side, recording Sir Gavin's requests. With his furs removed, Vrell recalled where she knew him. He had been a high-ranking soldier on Lord Livna's guard, a man Tara and their other cousin, Lathia, had fawned over on Vrell's many visits to Tsaftown. How strange to see him acting as Tara's servant. Why was he here? And why was Tara here?

  Vrell's stomach clenched, heavy with dread. What if the knights permitted Achan his wish to marry Tara? She would make a lovely queen. She was so beautiful... So perfect.

  Sir Gavin leaned close to Tara and whispered. Carmack straightened, his dark eyes boring into the top of Sir Gavin's back, clearly concerned for his mistress. Vrell's heart pounded. She licked her lips, praying Tara would not make a scene.

  Sir Gavin bid farewell to Tara and winked his brown eye at Vrell on his way out.

  Tara kept her eyes downcast. "Leave us a moment, Master Demry? Stand guard outside?"

  Carmack's scowl flashed between Vrell and Tara. "Of course, my lady." He bowed and marched out the door, casting his stormy expression down on Vrell as he passed.

  "Close the door, boy," Tara said.

  Vrell obeyed, flushing at Tara's playful tone.

  "Now come closer where I can get a good look at you."

  Vrell took a deep breath and moved before the sofa.

  Tara's narrowed eyes darted over every inch of Vrell. "Averella? This cannot be true!"

  Despite Vrell's smile, tears gushed from her eyes. "Oh, Tara."

  Tara stood and seized Vrell in a tight embrace. "Dear one, sit and tell me your tale. I had heard from your mother you were on holiday." Tara held Vrell's hand, sat on the sofa, and drew Vrell beside her. "Aunt Nitsa confessed Prince Gidon still sought your hand. I could not blame you for your refusal. I hid in this room trembling when I believed he had come here today. But what of it now? For I discover the stray squire in my solar and not the evil prince. I can scarcely believe it. Certainly that traitor no longer seeks you?"

  "Oh, but he does." Vrell told Tara of Esek's warrant for her arrest, both as Vrell Sparrow and as Lady Averella Amal. "I only want to get home. Can you assist me?"

  Tara's expression tightened. "I wish I could, but I am all alone here, as you can see. We have little funds, and I do not trust my husband's men--"

  Vrell's breath snagged. "Your husband?"

  "Lord Gershom." Tara held out her left hand to show a thick silver and jade ring. "My father made the match three weeks past."

  Vrell clapped a hand over her mouth, but it did not stop the tears.

  "Oh, Averella. Do not cry on my account. It is not so bad. He is rarely lucid and when he is, he forgets what he is doing and often falls asleep."

  Vrell managed to squeak out, "Is he ill?"

  Tara nodded. "He had a fever last year that left him altered. It still comes and goes. Sometimes he is quite pleasant, sometimes he is a tyrant, but mostly he is queer or sleeping."

  "But you...are you well?" Vrell couldn't imagine anything so horrible. Arman, why?

  Tara's expression softened. "I confess, I never imagined I would be the lady caught in Old Lord Gershom's web. But Mother sent Carmack as my guard. He makes sure I am safe. Do not dwell on my marital woes," she squeezed Vrell's hand and whispered, "for our marriage has yet to be consummated. Thank Arman for that--and Carmack. He manages to steer me and my husband in opposite directions every chance he gets."

  Vrell threw her arms around her cousin. "Tara, I am so sorry I was not here for you."

  Tara squeezed Vrell tight. "You are, and always will be, forgiven. Let us talk no more of my depressing life. What of you?" She raised her sculpted brows and grinned. "Traveling with the lost prince? How thrilling it must be. He is the most handsome young man I've ever met, and sweet too, don't you think? The story will undoubtedly go down in history, and you are in the midst of it all."

  The heaviness left Vrell's stomach. Tara could not marry Achan. Joyful heart!

  Then she squeezed her eyes shut. Arman forgive her! That she should be pleased with Tara's misfortune... She could hardly think straight.

  "Tara. Achan...he..." She opened her eyes. "He seeks to marry you."

  Tara gasped. "Me?"

  "He doesn't know you are already wed. None of us did. Weeks ago, the knights told him he had to marry. Jaira tried to get her hands on him in Mirrorstone--it was the most disgusting display. But Achan thought of you instantly. You so enamored him at Esek's coming-of-age banquet. Sir Gavin and the knights said you were not the best match, and he has been cross ever since. He can be quite stubborn, Tara. I do not doubt he will go behind their backs and try to speak with you. Have you told Sir Gavin you are Lord Gershom's wife?"

  "I did not." Tara reached under the sofa and pulled out a wicker basket. She drew out a handkerchief, dabbed her eyes, and fell back in the sofa, her golden curls spilling over the brown cushion. "What bad timing my life has had! Who will they choose for him then? You? It must be you, for I can think of no one else but Glassea, and she is a Hadar already."

  Vrell shook her head. "Achan thinks me a boy--his squire, Tara, and a poor one at that. I do not wish him to know who I am. Not like this."

  "But you are Lady Averella Amal, heir to Carm! Surely they would consider you. The traitor did."

  Vrell sighed. "They have mentioned my name."

  Tara grasped Vrell's knee. "You mean...they don't know you are you? They talk about you as if you're not there?"

  "Not often. Sir Gavin is the only one who knows who I am. The rest believe I am a boy."

  Tara sucked in a sharp breath. "Even Achan, the prince? He thinks you're a boy?" Tara's eyes sparkled, intoxicated with the juiciness of this information. "So they still might choose you."

  "No. Maybe. Tara, even if they did, I would refuse. I love Bran, as you well know."

  "Bran." Tara rolled her eyes and waved her handkerchief. "He is not to be king."

  Vrell drew in a sharp breath. "I have been hiding nearly a year to avoid what has happened to you. The title of king means nothing to me. Achan is like a brother. And besides, he loves you."

  Tara threw up her hands. "He cannot possibly love me. We've only spoken a total of five minutes in our life. No, he loves the idea of me, poor dear." She sniffled. "I am convinced, Averella, that true love is a myth. Still, I do hope you and Bran can make it work. And I pray whoever is chosen for Achan... well... that he will be happier than I." She reached out and stroked Vrell's hair. "Averella. You are disgusting. When did you last bathe?"

  Vrell wrinkled her nose. "In Mirrorstone, and then the water was not fresh."

  Tara clucked her tongue. "And how many days have passed since Mirrorstone?"

  "Almost three weeks, I am afraid," Vrell whispered.

  "Gracious! The men as well?"

  "Oh, no. They have taken several baths, but... Oh, Tara. It has been such a trial. And men can be so revolting. They bathe together, often in a steam room or lake where I could not go. If not for bloodvoices, and Sir Gavin's help, I would have been discovered long ago."

  Tara straightened. "You have the king's gift too? How could I not have known this?"

  Vrell shrugged. "We only discovered it before I left for Walden's Watch."

  "You went to Coraline?" Tara's eyes sparkled. "How did Shoal look?"

  Vrell grinned. "Handsome as ever, and in love with a fisherman's daughter."

  "Mercy. Let us speak no more of thwarted love." Tara dabbed her eyes again. "I may not be able to take you home, but I can help you bathe, at least. Go gather your things. I will have a
bath drawn for you in this room. Tell Sir Gavin you are staying with me tonight, then come back here. If I have not returned, wait outside the door. I am going to fetch a few things from my room." She took Vrell's hand in hers and squeezed. "I will take care of you tonight, dearest."

  25

  Achan stood by the door of his bedchamber listening to Sir Gavin's heavy footsteps fade down the hall. He glanced at the tub, at the steam rising above the clear water. A bath would warm his very bones, but first...

  He cracked open the door to an empty hallway and crept out, uncertain what he was looking for or how he'd know if he found it. He turned a corner and almost ran into Sparrow.

  The boy frowned, his cat-like eyes scanning Achan. "I was told you were talking a bath."

  "And?"

  "Well...clearly you have not."

  Achan narrowed his eyes. "Why do you care?"

  "I simply... Well... I thought..."

  Achan laughed. "Take my bath, Sparrow. Tell Sir Gavin I said so if he asks. Enjoy." He leaned close to Sparrow's ear. "I do believe they scented it with rose water." He waggled his eyebrows, stepped around the boy, and continued to the stairs.

  "Achan."

  He spun around.

  "Please do not go to her."

  Achan's muscles stiffened. "To who?"

  "Lady Tara."

  Achan gripped the boy's shoulder. "Are you reading my thoughts?"

  Sparrow's eyes widened. "Of course not. I just know you. But you might save yourself the trouble and hear her thoughts first."

  "I won't violate her mind." Again. "It isn't right."

  Sparrow shook his head. "I only meant... Well... You do not have all the information."

  "And you do?"

  "I...I believe Lady Tara is married. She wears a ring on her finger."

  Achan couldn't tolerate Sparrow's meddling today. "I wear a ring and I'm not married." Achan spun the boy around and shoved him toward his bedchamber. "Don't fret, Sparrow. Go, take my bath, enjoy it, smell like roses, and leave me be."

  "But--"

  "Now!" He winced at the level of his voice and added in a soft tone, "Please. I'll beat you if you insist." He grinned to make it clear he was only jesting, then walked to the stairs where he met a boy carrying a bolt of cloth.