From Darkness Won (45 page)

Sir Caleb nodded as if he’d been expecting this confession. “Would you have brought her back here?”

Achan’s face flamed, but he could only stare. His lips felt dry, his tongue and throat too. His stomach roiled.

Sir Caleb chuckled. “I would have made it a merry trio. We could have played dice.”

“Do not jest. I… I don’t… I’m afraid.”

“Of?”

“Toros said, what mastered the father will tempt the son. I never realized…”

“So you have been tempted. Did you fall to it?”

“No.” Achan ran his hands over his head. “No. I apologized. I didn’t know that Kurtz had paid— I’m sorry, Sir Caleb. I know you said to treat women with—”

“Shh. You are forgiven.” A long moment of silence passed. “Is there something else?”

“I never felt like that. So lost in… I wanted so bad to just…” He let his head fall back against the chaise lounge. There was no other way to put it. “I had no intention of stopping her.”

“Why did you?”

“Sparrow.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it was Arman. Or the things you told me. Or all of it together.” Achan sighed. “I cannot say, exactly. But I don’t trust myself.” For what if Kurtz threw another pretty woman into his arms?

“Nor should you.”

“Will you always be sitting in my bedchamber?”

Sir Caleb laughed. “Once we are at Armonguard, I will likely never be sitting in your bedchamber. In times of war, however…” He crouched before the long chair and slapped a hand on Achan’s shoulder.

“Listen well,” he said. “If you wish to break your vows to Arman and your wife, you will do it. But it takes more than wishing to keep those vows. It takes strength and character and determination, all qualities you have in great measure. Do not despair, Achan. You are not a weak man. But temptation will always be there. And when you are tempted, resist, flee from it, refocus your thoughts. Find your strength in Arman. Only by Arman’s strength can you prevail.”

Achan released a long, cleansing breath. It felt like he hadn’t breathed since he had talked to Sparrow.

Please, Arman. Help her to remember me. I need her.

Y
OU NEED ME
.

Achan closed his eyes.
Aye, Arman. I need You.

Achan woke to blinding pain.

He must be dying. Esek must’ve hidden in his tent, stabbed a blade through his skull while he’d been sleeping.

The gorbellied coward.

Achan opened his eyes, which made the pain worse. He ran his hands over the sides of his head and found no knife.

A sound made him turn to the other side. Matthias stood at his bed, eyes wide.

“Morning, Matthias,” Achan mumbled.

“You’ve got new wounds, sir.”

Achan lifted his head and winced. “What?”

“On your back.” Matthias pointed. “Cat scratches.”

Achan’s mind swirled. A cat? He sat up and twisted around, trying to see what Matthias was on about. He could barely see the end of a pink welt that curled around his side halfway between his arm pit and his waist.

What in all Er’Rets?

“That
cat
got you pretty good, Your Highness. Best be careful around them in the future.” Sir Caleb was sitting at the table, poring over scrolls.

Achan rubbed his eyes and squinted at Sir Caleb. “Have you been sitting there all night?”

“No. For night has gone, as has the new morning and most of the new day.”

Scenes from the previous night flashed through Achan’s memory. Challa. She had scratched him. He wilted under the force of his own stupidity. Praise Arman for new mornings.

Matthias still stood at Achan’s bedside, awestruck. “Was it a chatul cat, sir? Did you kill it?”

“Huh?” Achan’s tongue felt like a wood chip. He needed water.

“The cat, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said. “The boy would like to know if you killed it.”

Blood rushed to Achan’s face. Pain spiked in his temples. His stomach seized. Fluid rose up his throat and nose. He pressed his lips together, clamped a hand over his mouth, and lunged out of bed toward the chamber pot.

After retching for what seemed like an eternity, Achan fell onto his rear and lay on the floor, arms and legs spread out like the destination on a map. His nose and throat stung. He panted short, deep breaths to calm his angry stomach.

A shadow passed over him. Sir Caleb looked down, shaggy blond mane framing his face. He held out Averella’s dress sleeve and a dark wine bottle. He smelled the bottle’s opening and set it down beside Achan’s waist. “Smells like it was good.”

Achan groaned through another intense pang in his head.

“I learned long ago, as you likely have from your experience last night, that one should not drink more than one glass of any Carmine red in one sitting. And never on an empty stomach.” Sir Caleb dropped Averella’s sleeve, which fluttered in the air over Achan until it settled on his bare chest. “Best not to lose that until after we are safe in Armonguard.”

Sir Caleb walked away, and Matthias’s small face reappeared at Achan’s side. The boy crouched and sniffed the bottle then folded his arms and stared at Achan.

Without moving his head, Achan shifted his eyes to meet the boy’s. “The cat got away, Matthias. She nearly killed me, though.”

Matthias smiled, as if this concession made the whole ordeal worthwhile.

18

“Head for the main gate, Master Fox.”

“Aye, m’lady.”

Noam steered the wagon through the outskirts of Mahanaim. The road was deserted. In the Darkness, Averella could not guess the hour.

“I shall bloodvoice Master Rennan to see if I can learn his precise whereabouts.” Averella closed her eyes and focused.
Master Rennan? May I speak with you, please?

Bran sounded tired.
My lady, are you well?

We are, thank you. We approach the gate. Can you tell me the way to the dungeon? Will the front entrance—

Averella, do not attempt this.

We stand a much better chance of success with your guidance, Master Rennan.

Prisoners are being executed daily. Fed to the great
tanniyn.
I would never forgive myself if you were captured.

Perhaps Bran still cared.
We shall not stand by while innocent men are slaughtered. The location of the dungeon would help us greatly.

Bran’s tone rose.
Do not be a fool! There is nothing two women can do. Go home. Tell Gren I said the same.

Averella bristled.
Women are not so completely useless as you believe, Master Rennan. And as I mentioned before, we have two able men with us. Abandoning you would break Gren’s heart, for she seems intent on being near you.

It’s far too dangerous for Gren.
Bran’s voice softened.
She could be hurt—or lose her child.

Is this the real reason we have parted ways, Master Rennan? Is this child yours?

Averella sensed Bran’s anger flare.
You know me better than that.
Even in his mind, he sighed with frustration.
Fine. If you insist on this madness, the dungeons are in the lowest levels of the stronghold. Any descending staircase will lead you there eventually. Arman be with you.

Averella opened her eyes. The scene blurred before her. Behind the jagged parapet of the sentry wall, the city of Mahanaim peaked like a mountain of stone. Hundreds of torchlights lit the structure, but the colors of the stone were dull under the shadow of Darkness. The overwhelming smell was like a privy filled with rotted fish.

Before Master Fox could slow the wagon at the gate, two soldiers approached. They wore black armor and black capes with the gold symbol of Mahanaim on them.

One of the men spoke. “State yer name and business.”

“I’m Harnu Poe. We come seeking sanctuary from Darkness and to offer our service to the New Council.”

“What do you know of the New Council?”

“Just that things are changing in Er’Rets. I aim to serve however I can.”

“Who you got with you?”

“My wife and two servants.”

“How do you plan to serve the New Council?”

“My man and I mean to fight. If you’re in need of seamstresses, the women can sew.”

“You’ll need coin to rent a room. Ask the stablemaster about trading that wagon for a boat.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Come on down and let us search yer wagon.”

The four of them climbed out and watched the soldiers ransack their supplies. They made a mess, tossing everything about, but took nothing but a mouthful of dried fish.

Then they searched Harnu and Noam.

The man searching Harnu took his coin purse—which was really Averella’s. “We’ll be taking a fee for entry and an offering for Dâthos. And you’ll have to hand over that blade.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Harnu said, forbidding as ever. “If I’m to join the soldiers, I’ll do best with my own blade.”

The soldier glanced at his partner, who shrugged. “Let him keep it. It’s in sad shape, if you ask me.” He pocketed a few coins and tossed the coin purse back to Harnu.

The soldiers approached the women next. Averella clutched Gren’s arm. “You will not touch us!”

The soldier laughed. “Oh, but we will, Madam. Plenty have tried to sneak trouble past our gate by hiding it on their women. Put your arms out, real nice like.”

Averella shot a glance to Harnu, who shrugged. “We’ve nothing to hide. Search ’em if you must.”

Typical male response. Harnu had acclimated to his role all too well. Averella closed her eyes as the guard ran his hands over her.

A tickle at her neck. “What have we here?”

She opened her eyes to see the guard pulling the gold chain that held the king’s signet ring. Her heart fluttered. She grabbed the chain.

“None of that now,” the guard said. “We can’t allow you to wear such a trinket in times like these. It’s not safe. Plus, such an offering would please Dâthos.”

Averella and the guard both held tight until the chain snapped. The guard pulled the chain through Averella’s fist until he had it all. She gasped when the ring did not appear. She could feel it still nestled inside her makeshift corset.

The guard sneered and pocketed the chain. He didn’t know there had been anything else attached! “Yer free to enter. Make any mischief and we’ll feed you to the tanniyn.”

As the guards raised the gate, Noam helped Averella and Gren into the wagon bed. Once everyone was seated, Noam steered the horses inside the stronghold.