From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

  Or maybe the heat was due to his situation.

  He stood deep in the temple garden at the end of a white wood pergola that was so draped in vines and flowers the scent was overpowering. Shung stood at his side, then Noam, Sir Gavin, and Sir Caleb. Across from him, Lady Gypsum and two maidens were dressed in blue and white gowns. Lady Gypsum grinned at Achan as if she knew some secret.

  He glanced away.

  Hundreds of chairs had been set up in the gardens, and not one was empty. The audience was divided by an aisle that ran from the double doors at the back of the southern arc of the keep to where Toros, Achan’s priest, stood at the end of the aisle, facing the audience. Achan glanced down the aisle again.

  Nothing.

  He released a shaky breath and thought of the handful of mentha leaves he’d stashed in his pocket. He’d already eaten so many his tongue felt raw, but his stomach had yet to settle, so eating a few more wouldn’t hurt. At least Sparrow would not be able to accuse him of having stink breath.

  He reached into the narrow pocket in his doublet. His fingers did not find mentha leaves but his half of the coin. He drew it out, squeezed it, and tucked it back into his pocket.

  His left-hand pocket furnished him with another store of mentha. He stuffed two leaves into his mouth as stealthily as he could and took a deep breath.

  Arman, give me peace, I beg You.

  The gardens were beautiful. The valances were thick with vines and white blossoms. Achan glanced at his future mother-in-law. The woman’s eyes were also fixed on the entrance.

  Bang!

  He jumped as the doors at the back of the keep swung open. A man and woman stood in the open doorway.

  Father and daughter.

  A murmur ran through the crowd. A man to Achan’s left began to play an eerie tune on the pipes. Achan shivered. What kind of song was this? It felt more like a death march than a wedding song.

  His bride started forward. She was draped in what looked to be blue and gold gemstones. Her veil was so thick he couldn’t even see her face.

  Is that you under all those stones, Sparrow?

  Does it look like someone else?

  Can you even see where you’re going?

  No, but thankfully Sir Eagan can be my eyes.

  Achan chuckled, thankful for bloodvoices and the chance to speak with his friend. How long is the garden walk, anyhow? Can’t you take normal steps?

  What ever is your hurry?

  I feel as though everyone is staring at me, and I do not have a veil to hide behind.

  You cannot see it, Your Highness, but I am rolling my eyes at your sad situation. And I cannot take normal steps because my gown is a vise tighter than an Eben’s fist.

  Mercy. Well… it looks quite nice.

  She was still inching toward him. It had better look better than “nice,” or you shall pay later.

  You promise?

  But Sir Eagan and Sparrow had reached the end of the pergola, and she said no more.

  Toros spoke to Achan, drawing his gaze away from the heap of silk and jewels that was Sparrow. “You come here today, my prince, of your own free will to marry this lady?”

  “Aye, that I do.”

  Sir Caleb shot Achan a dirty look, likely due to Achan’s saying “aye” rather than “yes,” but Sir Eagan smiled.

  Toros addressed Sparrow. “Lady, is it true that you come here today of your own free will to be married to this prince?”

  “Yes, it is true.”

  “Whose blessings accompany you?”

  “That of her father and all her family.” Sir Eagan kissed Sparrow’s hand, then stepped behind her.

  “Please join hands with your betrothed,” Toros said.

  Achan held out his hand, and Sparrow slipped hers into it. His heart leapt at her touch, despite them both wearing gloves. He readjusted his grip by sliding his fingers between hers and squeezed. Why did they make us wear gloves?

  It is proper to wear gloves at formal occasions.

  I still cannot see your face.

  Perhaps I am Lady Jaira, and you will not know until our vows are sealed.

  Now I’m truly frightened. Should I run?

  You had better not.

  “Above you are stars, below you stones. As time goes by, remember… Like a stone your love should be firm. Like a star your love should be constant. May the wisdom of your minds guide you. May the strength of your wills bind you. May the power of love and desire bring you joy. And may the strength of your dedication make you inseparable.

  “Be free in giving affection and warmth. Be close, possess one another, but have understanding and patience. For storms will come, but if you obey Arman, they will pass quickly.

  “Your Highness, I have not the right to bind you to the lady Averella. Only you have this right. If it be your desire, say so at this time and place your ring in her hand.”

  “It is my greatest desire.” Achan lifted Sparrow’s hand and pressed the man’s ring he had chosen from the vault in her palm. He folded her fingers over it.

  “Lady Averella, if it be your desire for Prince Gidon Hadar to be bound to you, place his ring on his finger.”

  Sparrow’s head tipped down, and she patted the air in search of Achan’s hand.

  He reached out and touched her fingers. Looking for this?

  Oh, hush up. She slid the ring onto his finger. The gold gleamed against his white glove. His chest tightened.

  “Lady Averella,” Toros said, “I have not the right to bind you to Prince Gidon Hadar. Only you have this right. If it be your desire, say so at this time and place your ring in his hand.”

  “It is my desire.” Sparrow reached out, and Achan helped her by meeting her hand. He couldn’t help but smile at her blindness as he took the ring from her.

  “Your Highness, if it be your desire for the lady Averella to be bound to you, place her ring on her finger.”

  Achan took Sparrow’s hand and slid the gold band onto her finger.

  “Repeat after me: I, Prince Gidon Hadar…”

  Achan said, “I, Prince Gidon Hadar…”

  “…in the name of Arman that resides within me…”

  “…in the name of Arman that resides within me…”

  It continued that way, with Achan repeating everything Toros said.

  “…by the life that courses within my blood, and the love that resides within my heart, take you, Averella Amal, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. I promise to love you without restraint, whether sick or healthy, whether in plenty or in poverty, until Arman parts us in death.”

  Then Toros asked Sparrow to repeat the same to Achan. When she had finished, Toros said, “By the power vested in me by Arman and the future king…”

  A low laugh passed through the crowd.

  “…I declare you husband and wife. May your love so endure that its flame remains a guiding light all your days.”

  Toros stepped before them and placed a hand on each of their heads. “Arman is one. Arman is three. Arman is three in one. Bless, preserve, and keep this couple, look upon them with mercy and favor, fill them with wisdom and grace, that they may live together in this life, and that in the world to come they may have life everlasting. May it be so.”

  The audience echoed with “So be it” or “May it be so.”

  “Your Highness, you may kiss your bride.”

  Achan lifted the veil over Sparrow’s head and smiled down on her lovely face. “There you are.”

  Her brow crinkled, as if she were about to say something smart. He pressed his lips to hers before she could speak. The scent of almonds flooded his senses. He took her face in one hand and held her steady, laying his claim in front of every witness present. So warm and sweet. He hummed, joy bubbling over. One more quick kiss and he pulled back.

  The crowd cheered. Achan felt his face go flush. Sparrow’s did, as well. Tears teased the corners of her eyes.

  Toros turned Achan and Sparrow until they face
d the crowd. “Here stands before you, Prince Gidon Hadar and his bride!”

  The crowd cheered again. Achan took Sparrow’s hand in his, kissed the back of it, then they walked hand in hand down the aisle.

  People showered them with seeds and grains of wheat to wish them prosperity. He had to inch along to keep pace with Sparrow, for she was barely moving. Then she tripped.

  Achan swept her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way.

  He entered the keep under the grand staircase. The banquet would be held in the great hall. But instead of taking the stairs up, Achan carried Sparrow through the foyer and into a solar on the first level. He kissed her, twirled her in a circle, and set her down. “I don’t want to go to a banquet and stuff my face, Sparrow.”

  She set a hand against her stomach. “I doubt I could eat a thing. There is no room in this dress for anything else.”

  “Let’s leave then. Why must we sit through another formal banquet?”

  “Because you are the future king and—”

  “And you are queen.”

  “Yes. And your people—”

  “Our people.”

  “Our people want to celebrate with us.” She punched for his arm.

  But he caught her fist and tucked her hand around his neck. “Such a violent wife I have. You don’t have any weapons on you, do you? Perhaps a knife?”

  “I told you, there is no room in this dress. Not even for a little knife.”

  “Perhaps I should check.” He ran his hand from her waist and up her side.

  She slapped his hand away. “My dear husband, this is not the time or place.” But she raised onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

  Your Highness? Sir Caleb’s voice.

  Achan groaned. What is it you want, Sir Caleb?

  The guests are hungry. They are seated in the great hall, but there is no sign of the prince and his bride.

  Achan drew back from Sparrow and stared into her eyes. Say that again, Sir Caleb?

  Say what?

  His bride.

  The guests are waiting, Your Highness. The sooner you eat, the sooner the banquet ends.

  Hmm. Point taken. Achan took Sparrow’s hand and led her to the door. We are on our way.

  They feasted on roasted quail, venison, fish, ale-flavored bread, stewed cabbage, tarts and custards, dates, pistachio nuts, and spicy mulled wine. Achan lost count after five courses. Sparrow, as she’d predicted, hardly ate a thing.

  A minstrel sang several songs about Achan and Sparrow, including “The Pawn Our King” and a new song titled, “The Sparrow that Was a She.” There were other entertainers including a juggler, an acrobat, and a man with a dancing dog.

  When it came time for people to dance, Achan was quickly parted from Sparrow in order to dance with Duchess Amal, Lady Gypsum, and Lady Gali. Achan was surprised to see Sir Gavin dancing with a pretty grey-haired woman.

  He somehow managed to get free and spotted Sparrow. She was standing near the wall, surrounded by a group of men. Achan nudged his way across the room, but someone grabbed his arm.

  “Best wishes to you, Pacey,” Kurtz said.

  “Thank you, Kurtz.” Achan braced himself for a comment about the wedding night, but Kurtz surprised him.

  “I like what you did for Cole the other night, Your Highness, and that you included me. My father… he didn’t talk much. Too busy with the guardsmen. And he made a sport of women as if they were hawks or dice. Guess that and the sword was all I learned from him.”

  Achan dug for something to say, but Kurtz went on.

  “What you said about the code, of honoring women and protecting them. I figured it out, I did. That’s why Gavin left me out of your ceremony. I was a bad influence, I was. But you included me in Cole’s night. I guess you see something good in me, eh?”

  “There is much good in you, Kurtz. You are friendly and brave and strong. And you remind me to not take things so seriously always.”

  “How did a cub like you get so smart, eh?”

  “Good friends. A girl named Gren loved me when no one else would. And a fellow named Noam. But I give Gren most of the credit.”

  “You’ve done the same for me, you have. By asking me to mentor Cole. I won’t let you down, Pacey. I won’t.”

  Sparrow stepped up behind Kurtz, and Achan held his hand out to his bride. She took it, and he pulled her close. “Look who is here, Sparrow. It is Kurtz. And he is not dancing! What do you say about that?”

  “He must be ill,” Sparrow said.

  “I’m as well as water, my lady. But I cannot pass myself off as a wild stallion anymore. I fear my limp is here to stay. And no woman would look on me now. Not with a scar like this on my neck.”

  “On the contrary,” Sparrow said. “Many women will be drawn to your battle scar. To think you fought for the freedom of Er’Rets. You are a hero to this land.”

  Kurtz beamed. “Now, I like that, I do. You’ve put the right spin on it, my lady. I’m a hero, I am. All have pity on the hero who’s me, eh?”

  Sparrow giggled, and Achan pulled her back to the dance floor. Her cape was so long he had to twist it up and over her arm so she would not trip.

  Midway through the dance, Duchess Amal called them over to where Poril had set dozens of small cakes on a table. The duchess stacked three cakes on the floor between Achan and Sparrow. “Let us see if you can reach her, Your Highness, without knocking down the cakes.”

  Achan leaned over the cake and kissed Sparrow.

  Duchess Amal and Sir Eagan took turns adding cakes to the growing stack between them. Before long, the cakes were piled so high that Achan could see Sparrow’s head only. He bounced up on his tiptoes and leaned over the swaying tower of cake, but his chest knocked into it and the cakes fell against Sparrow. She squealed as the cakes knocked her down in a pile of crumbled sweetness.

  Achan leapt to her side and helped her up out of the mountain of cake. “Sorry, Sparrow. I did my best.”

  “I think that twenty cakes is enough prosperity, do you disagree?”

  “You are all the prosperity I need.”

  Duchess Amal swept up to them and took each of their hands. “My dear daughter.” She kissed Sparrow on the cheek. “And my son.” She kissed Achan. “Are you happy?”

  “I have not been so happy since Sir Gavin asked me to train as his squire,” Achan said.

  Then Sparrow said, “Mother, I am overjoyed.”

  EPILOGUE

  Achan felt as though the weight of the land rested on his shoulders, and no crown had been placed on his head yet.

  Not the official one, anyway.

  Sir Caleb had sent Matthias in to wake him before dawn to get him ready for his coronation. And now he was dressed in clothing that weighed twice what his wedding ensemble had weighed.

  He wore a red brocade doublet with a navy stripe sewn from his right shoulder to his left hip. Cream-colored trousers and no shoes. Achan found this strange, but the king being barefoot was part of the ceremony.

  Then the cape: ermine over red velvet with a train longer than a bride’s. The thing was also trimmed and fully lined with ermine fur. All the weight of his garb was in the cape. Sir Caleb had tied it to Achan’s doublet at his shoulders to keep the strings from strangling him.

  Achan stood in an antechamber off the foyer, just down the hall from the throne room, waiting for his queen. If they had dressed Achan in this much garb, he doubted Sparrow would be able to stand under the weight of her gown.

  At least she’d gotten to sleep in.

  But when she arrived, he was surprised to see that she wore a simple white dress embroidered in gold thread. Until Sir Caleb put a matching cape on her shoulders.

  Sparrow tugged the ties at her throat. “It’s so heavy!”

  Achan smiled at her worried expression. “Consider it a feat of strength.”

  “I told you I have no desire to join the Kingsguard.”

  “Aye, but think how the captains will berate any weak me
n who enter their ranks. ‘Even the queen can do this!’ Men will have no choice but to step up to the challenge.”

  She rolled her eyes at his humor. “I doubt any captain will ask his men to don such a cape for training.”

  “Likely not.” He nudged her leg with his bare foot. “At least you get shoes.” He stepped before her and kissed her lips. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, and you?”

  He kissed her again. “As well as possible with you claiming the entire bed.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “No matter. That bed is far too big. It is a relief to be crowded again.”

  The next hour passed quickly. Achan and his queen were escorted to the throne room by a squadron of uniformed men. Sparrow walked beside Achan, on his arm, which was only possible due to the dozen men carrying the trains of their capes, three on each side of his, and three on each side of hers.

  Some sort of grandstands had been constructed on each side of the throne room, creating an aisle up the center. The stands were packed with people dressed in finer clothing than Achan had seen, even at his wedding.

  In the far right corner, an orchestra played a majestic anthem on harps, pipes, lutes, flutes, bugles, tabors, bells, and cymbals. A choir of robed minstrels accompanied them. The beautiful, regal song brought a shiver to Achan’s soul. Sparrow squeezed his arm.

  He patted her hand. That’s quite a song, huh?

  It is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

  The soldiers escorted Achan and Sparrow down the aisle. The mosaic tile was bumpy under his feet. The throne room had never looked so huge. The scarlet walls were meant to bespeak royalty, but they made Achan think of all who had shed blood and even died for him to be here. His parents, Lord Livna, Riga, Bran, thousands in battle…

  Each step that took Achan closer to those white-and-gold chairs seemed a dream. He swallowed, careful not to make eye contact with any of the people standing so close on the sides of the aisle. And how about all these people? Achan asked Sparrow.

  Not so different from when I walked up the garden path at our wedding.