From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

  Achan raised his voice. “And still I ask why?”

  “It has always been this way with the upper class,” Sir Caleb said. “One of the benefits of the wealthy.”

  “For Lightness’ sake, don’t coddle him.” Sir Gavin fixed his gaze on Achan. “It’s done so that your wife won’t know who you take into your bed. There lies the tradition.”

  Which was exactly why Achan wanted to share a room.

  “Gavin, that is not the only reason separate chambers are favored,” Sir Caleb said. “Think about bathing and getting dressed. It would not do for the king’s servants to be around the queen in those circumstances. Nor would it be proper for the queen’s servants to be around the king.”

  Achan clapped his hands together and grinned. “Then we will finally be able to dress and bathe ourselves.”

  “It will also put pressure on your new bride,” Sir Caleb said. “If she knows she will share a bed with you nightly, it will look as though…”

  “You’re in a hurry to produce an heir.” Sir Gavin winked.

  Achan’s cheeks blazed. He straightened, but could not look at anyone, Sir Eagan, especially. His next words came out as a croak. “That’s not at all what I intend to imply.”

  “Achan,” Prince Oren said. “It’s natural to be nervous about marrying. Do not make things harder than need be.”

  “All of you mistake my meaning entirely.” He fought to put his feelings into words. “My father failed my mother. He’s to blame for this…” he waved his hand around the empty room… “arrangement. There’s much infidelity in my family line, so I must do what’s necessary to keep such temptations away. If I start my marriage with such distance—with even one wall between us—how will I be able to grow closer to my wife? And if I do not grow closer, how will I fight temptation when it appears before me?”

  “Where would she keep her gowns?” Sir Caleb asked.

  “You think she has that many?” Achan asked.

  Again Sir Caleb laughed. “Likely ten times as many gowns as you have ensembles.”

  That seemed quite excessive. “Build a bigger wardrobe?”

  “It will be terribly awkward to share one room, I should think,” Prince Oren said. “Wouldn’t you feel crowded?”

  “I slept under an ale cask for thirteen years, Uncle. This room is bigger than three cottages in Sitna Manor.” Achan sighed. “Look. Peasants do not have the luxury of putting their problems across a castle or even in another room. Most homes only have one bedchamber. Why should my queen and I live differently from our people? If we are to succeed in this union, we must be forced to tolerate one another always.”

  “I see wisdom in your choice, Nephew,” Prince Oren said. “But since you know your bride already, I suggest you speak to her about this so she is not surprised when her maid tells her where her belongings were taken.”

  Achan clarified Prince Oren’s wording. “Her maid?”

  “Syrah came with one of Lady Averella’s trunks,” Sir Eagan said. “Duchess Amal tells me the other trunks and servants will come in the next few weeks.”

  A maid and a trunk arriving with more on the way seemed a good sign of Sparrow’s intentions, but all this had happened before Bran’s death. Achan had never seen a woman faint over such news, until Sparrow.

  “If we’ve a wedding to plan, it should come before the coronation,” Sir Caleb said. “No sense in crowning you king, marrying you off, then having a third ceremony to crown your queen. Unless you’d prefer it that way.”

  “What is my other option?”

  “To be married, and then crown both of you together.”

  “I think the people would like that,” Prince Oren said. “What say you, Nephew?”

  The mere thought relaxed Achan. That he might not have to suffer the coronation alone. “If Lady Averella will have me, I’d very much like us to be crowned together.”

  “Then we must determine whether or not Lady Averella will have you, once and for all,” Sir Caleb said.

  Achan took a deep breath. “I shall ask her at once.”

  40

  “Sit down, Vrella, you are making me dizzy.”

  Averella sat on the stool beside Gypsum and picked up her embroidery. Though Gypsum was busy on her project, Averella did not touch her own. She stared at the balcony. The heavy curtains were pulled back, but the organza ones were drawn, the wind billowing them into the room every so often. “What is taking him so long, do you think?”

  “Likely walking across this beast of a castle.” Gypsum twisted her lips and took a stitch. “Be thankful his boy came first so Syrah had time to make you presentable.”

  “My presentation has never bothered Achan before.”

  Gypsum rolled her eyes. “Calm down, then. It is not like you have never seen this man.”

  “Stop lecturing me. You do not know how I—”

  “My lady?” Syrah stepped inside and curtsied. “Prince Gidon has arrived. Will you see him?”

  Averella and Gypsum both stood. Averella waved her hand at Syrah. “Of course. Send him in right away.”

  Syrah departed and returned a moment later. “His Royal Highness, Prince Gidon Hadar.”

  Averella brushed away the creases in her skirt and straightened her posture. Sir Shung entered first, followed by another guardsman, then Achan, walking as stiffly as a scarecrow. Two more guardsmen followed him.

  Merciful heart. They made a commanding entrance.

  Averella and Gypsum curtsied together. Averella had not seen Achan so clean and fashionable since their dinner in Mirrorstone three months past. He wore a red satin doublet, black trousers, and a golden cape. His short hair was combed neatly and his scruff of a beard was trimmed.

  Achan’s eyes—clear blue and bright—met hers, and he seemed to relax some. He bowed swiftly. “Lady Averella, Lady Gypsum, thank you for allowing this visit.”

  “As if you need permission to visit me, Your Highness,” Averella said.

  “Oh, but I do. I thought once I made it here to Armonguard, I’d be free to roam a bit. Alas, I still need permission to visit the privy.”

  Gypsum giggled, which seemed to cause Achan to grimace. “Forgive me. That was crude.” His voice whispered in Averella’s mind. How I wish we could meet elsewhere, Sparrow. I’ve never been suited for such decorum. I always say something foolish.

  You are doing fine. She motioned to the wicker chair. “Would you care to sit?”

  Achan stepped toward the chair, then stopped. “No.” His hands formed fists at his sides. He glanced at Sir Shung. “Might Lady Averella and I have a moment of privacy?”

  Shung stomped his foot and nodded.

  “But we aren’t to leave him unchaperoned,” one of the other guards said to Sir Shung.

  “Shung will guard with his mind.” Sir Shung gripped the man’s shoulder and steered him to the door. All four guards left, though the one who had spoken up looked reluctant.

  “He’s new,” Achan said. “He’s replacing Cortland until his legs are healed.”

  “How is Cortland?” Averella asked.

  “Grateful to you. Sir Caleb totes him around in a cart until his legs heal.” Achan glanced at the stool where Gypsum was sitting again.

  Syrah stood just behind her, peering over her shoulder at the swiftly growing work of art.

  “Gypsum?” Averella asked. “Might you and Syrah run to the kitchen and inquire if Master Poril could make strawberry tarts for dinner?”

  “I assure you, he is more than able,” Achan said. “Now that I have made him master of the kitchens, he is outdoing himself to show I didn’t make a mistake. There is plenty of gingercake to be had.”

  But Gypsum simply took another stitch and said, “Syrah does not need my company to complete that task. Go ahead, Syrah.”

  Syrah curtsied and left the room.

  “Gypsum?” Averella said, hinting as best she could with the tone of her voice.

  Gypsum tugged her needle. It scraped through the fabri
c until the stitch was snug. “Yes?”

  “Might you give us a moment alone?”

  Gypsum glanced at Averella. “You know I cannot.”

  “Gypsum…”

  “It is my duty to act as your chaperone, as no other female is present.”

  Achan chuckled. “To think of how many times we shared a slab of dirt before a campfire without a chaperone, huh, Sparrow? And a few chambers too.”

  Averella blushed and shot a scowl his way. Do you want a moment alone or not?

  What? He grinned innocently. It’s the truth.

  Gypsum made a short hum of disapproval. “Only because my sister was lying to you, Your Highness. Had you known the truth, that never would have happened.”

  Averella closed her eyes a moment. Only Gypsum would have the gall to scold her in front of the Crown Prince.

  Achan cleared his throat. “Would you object, Lady Gypsum, if Lady Averella and I stepped onto the balcony alone?”

  Gypsum lifted her chin. “Only if you are there too long.”

  “We shall be quick about it, then, for your sake.” Achan took Averella’s hand and tugged her through the organza curtains. The outside warmth clapped onto her skin. The glorious sun hung high overhead, proclaiming victory over Darkness. Averella’s balcony looked southwest over the vast blueness of Lake Arman. Two high lounge chairs were all that furnished the balcony.

  Achan helped Averella sit on one of the chairs, then sat on the edge, facing her. “Are you well?”

  The full weight of Achan’s blue eyes made her stomach dance. “Very.”

  His eyebrows puckered. “You are not angry with me?”

  “Whatever for?”

  His mouth opened, closed, opened. “I… Bran?”

  “Oh, Achan. That was not your fault. You do not blame yourself, do you?”

  “Well, yes, actually. And that I have caused you pain.”

  “Rest assured. Of course I will miss Bran greatly. He was a dear friend. But he is with Arman now, and we both know how lovely that is.”

  Achan glanced down and took her hand. “Yes.” He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “I toured the castle.”

  “Have you?”

  “Aye. The king’s chambers has a balcony three times the size of this one and stained glass doors rather than curtains.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  His voice lowered. “I want to share it with you.”

  Share it? She cocked her head to the side and forced a serious expression. “Share a balcony and glass doors?”

  “The entire chamber. If you’ll marry me.” He slipped his half of their coin into her hand. “Prince Oren said my parents had separate chambers. But I don’t want to be separated from you ever again. Live with me?”

  She could not help but smile at the way his brow wrinkled as he awaited her answer. As if he really didn’t know what her answer would be. “But, Achan, that’s not how things are done. Nobles always have their own bedchamber.”

  “So? This castle is too big for a home. Let’s take up residence in only one room, like Trajen and Ressa. You can have as many rooms as you want for your gowns and changing and a solar. Have a room for every shoe and piece of jewelry if you want. Only…” he cupped her face in his hands, leaned in, and lowered his voice… “I don’t want any walls between us. Never again.” His eyes were so close that hers lost focus. “May I kiss you?”

  Oh, she wanted him to. “But what of Sir Shung?”

  He’s not really watching. A small smile. “May I?”

  Averella’s eyes fluttered closed. “Yes, and you need never ask again.”

  His lips met hers softly, and she could feel them trembling. He released a breath and drew back, staring at her mouth. “All this time you were Lady Averella.” His eyes flashed to hers and he smirked. “From that day I first saw you in my cell in Mahanaim. Sitting in the corner, so small and scrawny.”

  Averella batted his arm. “It is not kind to tell a lady she is scrawny.”

  His smile lit up his face. “You’re anything but scrawny.”

  She lifted her chin. “Well, I first saw you walking in Esek’s procession. You called me Scratch.”

  “Arman was putting us together.”

  Averella looked past his face, out to the lake. “I almost ruined it.”

  Achan set a hand against her cheek and turned her face back to his. “We both made mistakes. But Arman knew we would figure it all out.”

  He kissed her again. His arms slid around her waist. The heat of the day seemed to heighten with their touch. Their minds connected, and all Averella could hear him say was, My Sparrow. My Sparrow. My lady Sparrow.

  She ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and rested them at the nape of his neck, which was moist from the heat of the sun. He hummed and pulled her tight against him, threaded one hand in her hair.

  She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back with a gasping squeak. “Achan, please.”

  His chest heaved as his breathing slowed. “I’m sorry, Sparrow. I’ve dreamed of you for so long. I never thought things would work out between us at all—and never that they would work out so perfectly as this.”

  “Perfectly, perhaps. But your passion must not consume us.”

  His lips, swollen from kissing, curved in a mischievous grin. “I wasn’t raised with your scruples. Sir Caleb has taught me some decorum, but I’m a stray at heart and a passionate man.”

  This time Averella could not keep from laughing. She loved how Achan could always make her smile. “My lips can attest to your passion, but such passion did not bring favor to my parents’ actions.”

  “Did so.” His grin darkened. “Their passion created you.”

  “Achan, really!” She swatted his chest.

  “If I promise to behave, will you allow me to court you?”

  “Court me?” Her eyes flew wide.

  Achan’s smile dwindled. “I’ll wait, if that’s your wish. But Sir Caleb said I must be crowned soon. He says if you’re willing, we should be married first so we might be crowned together. Otherwise, there’ll be a separate ceremony to crown you after we’re married.”

  “And you prefer we be crowned together?”

  “I hoped we could be. It would be much more pleasant that way.” His brow furrowed. “I guess that’s pretty quick, huh?”

  She sighed dramatically. “Well, if it makes things easier on Sir Caleb, I suppose we must skip the courting. But you must rein that passion until we are married.”

  He breathed out a laugh. “I will. But are you sure, Sparrow? I don’t mean to pressure you. What with your lost memory and having been stormed…”

  “Do not think on it a moment longer. For without your knowing it, you have been courting me since I first clapped eyes on you. And if you make me wait much longer I shall be very cross.”

  He smiled and kissed her again.

  41

  Most strays never received a manhood celebration different from any other day of birth celebration, and some never even celebrated that. Achan wanted things to be different for Cole.

  For the time being, Cole and Matthias shared a chamber across the hallway from the king’s bedchambers. Achan gathered Shung, Toros, and—against his better judgment—Kurtz, for the boy looked up to the man despite Achan’s attempts to keep them apart.

  After hours of planning in Achan’s chambers, the men crept into the room that Cole and Matthias shared. Achan and Shung both carried torches, but Shung extinguished his and waved the smoky stick beneath Cole’s nose. Not as good of a restorative as tobacco, perhaps, but more convenient.

  The boy squirmed in his bed a bit and rolled over.

  Achan fought against his smile. Shung, however did you and the knights keep a straight face when you woke me?

  A warrior does not smile for this part of the ceremony.

  I guess you have more self-control than I do.

  You are realizing this only now?

  Achan smirked at Shung. How will you wak
e him now, O wise one? For he has turned his back to you.

  Shung poked Cole in the back with the end of his torch.

  Cole, wearing nothing but undershorts, shot up to sitting. He had been rail thin when Achan had first met him, but he had meat on his bones now, and muscle too. He held his hand between his eyes and Achan’s torch, wincing in the light. His voice came raspy. “You need a horse, Highness?”

  Achan mustered as deep and manly a voice as he could. “Cole Tanniyn, do you wish to enter into the bonds of manhood?”

  Cole yawned so long he groaned. “Bonds of what?”

  Achan frowned. He’d practiced that line over and over until it sounded official and exciting. He should have known Cole would be confused. Simple was best with Cole. Achan tried again. “Want to know what it takes to become a man?”

  Cole’s eyes flashed as white as chicken eggs. He pushed onto his knees and glanced from Achan to each of the other men, then back to Achan. “Yes, Your Highness, I do. Will you tell me what I need to know?”

  “Get dressed and come with us, and we’ll tell you.”

  One might have thought the castle was under attack, as fast as Cole dressed. When he was ready, Shung held open the door. Toros and Kurtz went through, then Cole. Achan started toward it but caught sight of a set of eyes watching him from the other side of the small room.

  Matthias.

  Achan winked at the boy. “Someday, Matthias, you’ll get your turn.”

  Matthias grinned.

  The next morning was a day for visiting old friends. Achan found Poril in the kitchens. The old man wept and begged forgiveness, but that hadn’t been Achan’s reason for the visit. He wanted to start over with Poril, and to make sure that Poril understood he was not to beat whatever lad served him in the kitchens. By the time Achan left, Poril had fed him all the gingercake he could eat.

  Next, Achan and his guardsmen exited the western arc of the keep, headed for the stables. Achan had not seen Noam since that day in Noiz when he had lost his temper with Sparrow. He also needed to make time to speak with Gren. He hated to summon any of them, but he might have to resort to that with Gren. The knights gave him so little free time these days, he might never get a chance to see her before his wedding. He hated to only bloodvoice her.