Achan straightened. His list would finally come in useful. "Thank you, Polk. That narrows it down quite a bit."
* * *
Achan spent the next three days watching the eight bloodvoicers, barely leaving his room. He'd nearly failed Sparrow, just as Bran had almost failed Gren. It would not happen again. He stared at Polk's name on the list circled in bleeding black ink. Why could he discover nothing of the second traitor? Had Polk sent him on a bootless errand?
When Achan entered the Great Hall for lunch, followed by Kurtz, his temporary shield while Shung was in the bathhouse, he overheard a servant tell another that the prince was ill and not to get too close.
Perhaps he had spent too much time in his chambers.
So many stared at him in the great hall he took his chicken leg outside, not bothering to take Kurtz away from his new, red-haired lady friend.
Kingsguards and servants roamed the bailey. Achan sighed, in the mood for brainless banter. If he found any of the knights, they'd only make him think about being a king. Except for Shung, who was taking a well-deserved break. Achan strolled across the south side of the bailey lawn and bit into his chicken leg, scanning the men for a familiar face. He spotted Sparrow, sitting alone by the moat, boots on the grass, bare feet in the water, staring up at the waterfall that spilled over the southern tower.
He snuck up behind her and steeled himself. Mindless banter? Or another fight? "You know the privies empty into the moat, don't you?" he said.
Sparrow didn't move a muscle. "Not in this castle. The privies empty into an underground stream that merges with the Betsar a ways down."
Achan fell onto his backside next to Sparrow and bit into his chicken leg. The wind blew a strand of her hair across her cheek. Her green eyes were fixed on the waterfall, reflecting the shifting water in miniature. Achan swallowed, heart pounding like Berland drummers. What in all Er'Rets was wrong with him? "I--I've missed you." Missed her? That didn't come out right. What happened to his plan for mindless banter?
Her eyes widened. "Missed me? Whatever for?"
He forced himself to look away and managed to gather his senses again. "Oh, I don't know. Everyone is so serious all the time. At least you jest."
"There has been little to jest about of late."
"Aye. For the longest time, I truly believed an older, wiser man would step in and be king and I'd be able to go off and build my cabin in the woods. Then suddenly--and I can hardly remember when--I just accepted it."
"That is good."
Her praise made his heart beat faster. "You think so?" He glanced back and her eyes threw off his composure again. He looked at the ground and scratched the back of his neck. Blasted fleas. "I must admit--though don't tell anyone or I'll have to beat you--I'm quite nervous."
"A natural feeling, I am sure."
Perhaps. "But what if I mess up? What if I fail?"
"I am certain you will mess up, but you cannot fail."
He wanted to defend himself. He intended to make no mistakes. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because Arman does not fail."
"Right. I keep forgetting."
"It takes time."
"What? Becoming a good king?"
"That too, but I mean, getting to know Arman."
Hmm. "Ever been to Carmine?"
"Sure I--" She choked on her words. "I mean...yes. I have. Before Walden's Watch. It is a lovely place."
He bumped his arm against hers. "Do you have any concerns for me? Any premonitions of young married women I might accidentally propose to?"
She laughed and her voice, that throaty sound...how convenient for her to have such a voice. It had aided her disguise well. Lady Tara couldn't have pretended to be a boy even for five minutes.
"No," Sparrow said, "but the Carmine vineyards are the prettiest land in all Er'Rets. On a summer day like this, when the sky is so clear and blue and it meets the endless green vineyards on the edge of the horizon as far as you can see in all directions..." She sighed, head tipped back to stare at the sky. "It's the most peaceful, breathtaking view."
Achan stifled a smile. Sitting with Sparrow like this, as much as she talked, Achan couldn't believe it had never occurred to him that she was a girl.
He remembered the drumstick in his hand and bit into it, the meat now turning cold. "So. You don't want to marry a guy like Lady Tara's husband, and I want to marry a woman like Lady Tara. Why can't we figure this whole thing out?"
She faced him, eyebrows pinched together. "What would Sir Caleb say if he saw you talking with half a chicken leg in your mouth?"
How like a woman to be so critical. At least the mystery of Sparrow's moodiness had been resolved. He ripped off another chunk of meat with his teeth and forced himself to burp.
Sparrow turned away. "Charming."
"I'm serious, though. Do you think we'll end up miserable despite all our protests?"
Sparrow stirred her feet in the water. "I think you will probably war until you are forty. Then you shall finally move into Armonguard and take a bride of twelve."
"Take a bride... Sparrow, I tried to find a bride my age. I failed." He took the last of the meat off the chicken leg and spoke over a full mouth. "Perhaps I'll wed thrice my elder."
Sparrow giggled. "And what good would it do you to have no heir?"
"Who says I won't have an heir?"
Her cheeks pinked, and she straightened, prim and proper. "Old women cannot bear children, Your Highness. Their seeds have all dried up."
Achan frowned. "Really?"
Sparrow shook her head and poked out her bottom lip. "Such a fool is to be our king?"
"Watch your tongue, Master Sparrow, or I shall have to best you. You know I can."
She rolled her eyes. They were silent for a while. The sun cast a golden glow atop Sparrow's black hair. It had grown since Achan had met her, now long enough to tie back in a tail, the way Achan wore his. Was it soft like Gren's hair?
Her voice jolted him away from his drifting. "Did you love her dearly? Lady Tara?"
"Love her?" Achan shrugged and tossed the chicken bone into the moat. "I don't know. No. I loved the idea of her. When first I met her, she treated me kindly in spite of my station. It was like a test of character that she passed so well. I knew she was worthy through and through. And she could ride a horse like a man. And, of course, she is not painful to look upon. I could think of no better combination." He sighed. "I knew I'd never marry--who would have me?"
"Another stray?"
"Ah, well, I'm sure you know most are taken as mistresses. No, Sparrow. Marriage wasn't for me, and I didn't mind so much. I had Gren and Noam, two excellent friends." He paused, picturing Gren's warming smile. "Now Gren I loved."
"Might Sir Gavin allow...?"
"He's already told me no."
"I am sorry."
"Though I must say I'm surprised how short a time it's taken me to give up that fight. Perhaps it's because of Riga. Or the baby. Or both. Plus, I fear Gren is smitten with Bran Rennan. I cannot decide how I feel about that. Part of me is vexed. Bran duty was to protect Gren, not woo her. Yet, no one knows the pull Grendolyn Fenny has on a man better than I. So, I suppose I cannot blame Bran for being what he is."
Sparrow snorted. "Too foolhardy to realize a woman is flaunting herself before him?"
Achan straightened. "Gren doesn't flaunt."
Sparrow turned her angry eyes on him. "A beautiful woman hardly has to. Am I to pity all you men who can barely hold onto your hearts every time a pretty girl enters the room?"
"Our hearts? That's woman's talk, Sparrow. It's harder than you would think."
She scoffed. "And now you see why I would rather play a man. A man is not disdained for admiring more than one woman. A man is not expected to fight off unwelcome advances at every turn. And no one thinks poorly of a man who is not wed before he is twenty. As Vrell Sparrow, I am safe from men."
"Save Polk." She didn't answer, so Achan went on. "I'd agree what you sug
gest is true of most men. But not all are free to love who they choose." Achan scratched the back of his neck. "We're two of a kind, Sparrow, you and I. Both masquerading as something we're not. You're not a man, and I'm not a king."
Her nose wrinkled in a disdainful scowl. "And you never will be with such an attitude. I can prove I am not a man, but you are to be king despite your whining sarcasm. If you do not start believing it, you shall be a bad king, a weak king, and someone will kill you in your sleep." She cocked an eyebrow. "A stray mistress perhaps?"
Achan couldn't resist teasing her back. "You're volunteering to be my mistress?"
Sparrow glanced away, rosy cheeks darkening. "You may dream, Your Majesty."
Achan scratched a flea bite on his arm. "Actually, I cannot. Ever since I've started shadowing my army, I haven't slept well. Plus, Sir Caleb has forbidden I ever consider a mistress. You know me. Until his advice, I had been planning to take hundreds."
"I do not find your jesting humorous."
My, she had an arrogant way about her. "I thank you, Sparrow, for your insight and scruples. You've chastised me well and good, but you forget your place. I have six men to advise my every breath. I don't need lectures from you too." He stared at a leaf sailing past in the moat's current. "I should warn you, if you want to play the boy, I'm afraid you must get tousled like one. It's all part of the deception, after all."
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed. Sparrow squealed and splashed into the moat. Achan started to laugh, but his leg jerked forward and his backside slid right off the bank. The cold water shocked him as he sank beneath the surface. His boots found the bottom and he popped to his feet and gasped.
Water splashed over his back from behind. He spun around in time for Sparrow to splash him again. The breeze wrapped around him, making him shiver. He spit out a mouthful of water and dove toward her. After losing her twice, he managed to tuck her head inside his elbow and drag them both beneath the current.
A few sharp finger-jabs to his ribs, and Achan released her head. He stood, shivering in the breeze. Where had she gone? Movement snagged his gaze to the waterfall. A dark shape shifted behind the spray. Achan dove under the water and opened his eyes, thankful the privies didn't drain into the moat.
All he could see was froth from the waterfall. He swam around the falls until a pair of brown trousers came into view. He glided to her legs and popped up before her.
Sparrow squealed and backed against the stone wall, water dripping down her face, off her jaw. They stood in a pocket the waterfall created with the castle. The cascading wall of water behind Achan stroked Sparrow's face in moving bits of shadow and light. Her chest heaved with the heavy breaths fogging slightly from her lips.
She splashed him again but he didn't move. It was as if he had never seen Vrell Sparrow before. Everything about her in this moment seized him, sent his heart banging a tribal rhythm again. The shape of her face, the lock of ebony hair plastered to her cheek, her piercing green eyes.
"Hey, Sparrow." He set his hands on her shoulders and leaned down until his forehead settled against hers. Her eyes were so close, so deep, shifting back and forth to focus on his. Droplets of water trailed down the bridge of her nose, ran under her eyes and down her cheeks.
Achan pushed all rational thought aside, tilted his head. But her hand on his chest caused him to pull back. She ducked down, sinking beneath the water. The dark shape of her body shot away like an arrow.
Pig snout. He'd missed his chance.
He walked under the falls, letting the water beat down on his head and back for a moment before wading into stiller waters. No sign of the little vixen. Moments later he saw her climb onto the bank, shove her feet into her boots, and walk away, headed toward the inner gatehouse.
Achan slogged to the shore and hoisted himself out. He jogged up behind her, soggy boots squishing over the lawn, and was just about to pounce, when Sparrow spun around, her sword pointed at his chest. A stream of water drizzled off the cheap crossguard.
"Please don't strike me." Achan cowered behind his hands in mock fear. Water trickled down his arms. He peeked between his fingers. "Uh, did you ever learn to use that thing?"
She thrust the blade forward and it poked him in the stomach.
"Ow!" Achan stepped back and rubbed his gut. "Put that away before you hurt someone." He waved at a group of soldiers who had started coming their way. The men stopped, but continued to watch them. He lowered his voice. "Or before you get arrested for attacking the Crown Prince."
"I am merely practicing., Your Highness. How else will I learn?" Sparrow pursed her lips and thrust Firefox at him again. This time he darted aside and grabbed her wrist. He pressed his thumb between the fine bones, gently at first, then harder. My, Sparrow was stubborn little thing.
She grimaced--trying to be tough?--but finally yelped and opened her hand. Her sword clunked to the ground.
Achan grabbed it and tucked it under his arm. "I might have to keep this until you learn some manners. I mean, pulling a sword on your future king? Honestly!"
Her nose wrinkled as she scowled. "You do not even want to be king!"
"Now, that's not the point, Miss Sparrow, and I've--"
Sparrow shoved him and whispered, "Do not call me that! Someone might hear."
He chuckled. "Very well. That's not the point, Lady Sparrow."
She heaved a sigh. "I suppose you think you are clever?"
Achan grinned. "I do, actually."
She folded her arms, lips turned down, pouting. "You would never treat Lady Tara the way you treat me."
"Don't be silly. Lady Tara is a noblewoman. You're just...well..." He shrugged. "One of the men."
Her wet face flamed. She bounced toward him and punched him in the eye.
"Ahh!" Pain stabbed his eye. She'd punctured his eyeball. "Blazes, Sparrow!" He palmed his left eye and cried, "Ahh!" again. He squinted through his right eye. "What did you do that for?"
She shrugged. "Jest bein' one o' th' men, Yer Highnuss. We men like t' brawl, yeh know." She spun on her heel and marched away.
He yelled after her retreating form, "Next time you'll get one in return and don't think you won't!" He squatted beside the moat and scooped up cold water to put on his stinging eye.
Blazes!
He released his eye and tried to open it, but it was already swollen shut. He couldn't see. Those tiny little fists... They fit right into his eye where a man's fist couldn't possibly reach.
"Y'all right, Yer Hignuss?"
Achan spun around to see Brien, his scraggly thief from IceIsland, shadowed by three others. Heat flooded into Achan's face. Caught being bested by a woman.
"You want I should teach that healer lad a lesson?" Brien asked.
Achan relaxed and reminded himself that no one knew Sparrow was a woman. "No. Thank you, Brien. The lad is finally growing into his boots. Been trying to toughen him up for a while now."
Brien and the soldiers chuckled and wandered off. Achan stewed beside the moat until his violent shivering forced him inside. He stormed though the dank keep and up to his room, adding his own small river to the damp floors.
Everyone was already there.
One look from Sir Gavin and the old knight rushed forward. "What happened? Did you fall in the moat too?"
Achan studied Sparrow out of the corner of his eyes. She stood by the window, hugging her shivering arms. He unlaced his doublet and pried it off, doing his best to act nonchalant. "Sparrow bested me. For the first and last time, mind you." He peeled his tunic over his head, wadded it into a ball, and pitched it at Sparrow. It whacked her in the face and she squeaked. "Well done, Sparrow."
"Yes, well done, minnow!" Kurtz said.
"Gracious, don't kill him, Vrell." Sir Gavin's mustache curled. "We can't show up in Armonguard with a black and blue prince. Go easy next time."
Laughter rang out.
Achan shot Sir Gavin a bland look. "Fear not for my well being. It is I who'll no longer be going
easy on Sparrow." He spun around the room, trying to locate his pack with one working eye. He fixated on Sparrow's pale face and cast her a challenging, one-eyed stare.
She grinned, a smile that vitalized her whole face despite her tangled, wet hair and dirty cheeks. Achan's stomach zinged.
"I assure you, Your Majesty," she said, "I do not need you to go easy on me. I can take anything you toss my way."
35
For an hour that afternoon, the knights and Achan discussed the future. The plans for leaving the next day, what would happen in Carmine, and of course, more discussion over Achan's future bride. The knights talked, actually. Achan simply sat, overwhelmed, stewing and daydreaming--even dozing at one point. Thankfully, Sir Gavin dismissed him early. Achan entered into his chamber to see Sparrow standing at the window that overlooked the courtyard below.
Her eyes widened. "Forgive me. My new room does not have a window. I thought you were meeting with the knights, so..."
Achan closed his eyes and peeked through Sir Gavin.
He is too young to marry, Sir Eagan said. Why not focus on a long betrothal? Give him time to get used to the idea a bit more.
What's to get used to? He can figure it out, he can. If he needs help, he's got me, eh?
Thank you, Kurtz, for your offer, but that is not what concerns me.
Achan pulled away from the discussion and sighed. "Aye, they're still...talking. Sir Gavin excused me. The conversation had begun to annoy." He didn't want to explain the ongoing debate over who he should marry. For here stood Sparrow and he could no longer see her as anything but a pretty young woman in trousers. A breeze from the window blew a wisp of ebony hair across her alabaster cheek.
She smiled and brushed the strand away.
What folly. Why was he such a fool where women were concerned? Why did he continually choose the wrong ones? Why couldn't he simply accept his position with grace and marry whomever the knights ordained would be best?
He recalled what Poril had always said of his stubborn spirit. Ah, yer a fool, yeh are, boy. Had to smart off. Had to fight back.
Achan had never liked being ordered around.
To Darkness Fled--Kindle Page 42