From Darkness Won (7 page)

“Shung will not repeat it. He favored her. Though not honorable, his regard. Sir Rigil rebuked him. Remarked on the lady’s wit. And Shung could see the lady was fair. Small, like Duchess Amal.”

Achan had heard this much. At least she wouldn’t outweigh him. And if crude men thought enough of her to make crass remarks, she must be as beautiful as Bran had claimed. There was a chance he might like Lady Averella. Especially if she looked anything like her mother, for Duchess Amal, though twice Achan’s age, was one of the most enchanting women he’d ever met, both in appearance and countenance.

But was that enough? How could he have pledged his life to a stranger?

He should be free to court
Sparrow,
to choose her as a bride. That Sparrow was a stray should not matter. But he’d already agreed to marry Lady Averella, given his father’s signet ring as a token of his promise. It would be dishonorable to go back on his word.

Besides, he had decided to trust the One God, Arman, with his life. He had to stop worrying over things like this and serve Arman with each breath.

“Time to go, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said. “The men are waiting.”

It was no use.

Achan opened his eyes and glanced around the table. He and the war council had assembled in one of the secret rooms outside Duchess Amal’s study, a room only slightly bigger than the table they sat around. A small hearth lay cold along one wall. A lamp on the table cast golden light over the walls and the faces at the table. Achan sat at one end, Sir Gavin at the other. To Achan’s left sat Inko and Kurtz. To his right, Sir Eagan and Sir Caleb, who had brought a pile of scrolls.

“I still cannot sense either of them,” Achan said. “I’ve never been able to.”

“Are you blocked from them the way you are with Vrell?” Sir Eagan’s raspy voice pulled Achan’s gaze to the man’s lazy blue eyes.

“No. I can
sense
her, just not push past her shields. But of Esek and his father I find no trace. As if they don’t exist.”

“Esek is dead, then,” Sir Caleb said, looking up from a scroll in his hands. “But what of Lord Nathak?”

Sir Gavin tugged the end of his braided white beard. “Lord Nathak has likely used some sort of dark magic.”

“If so, I fear he would have been teaching his son to be doing the same,” Inko said.

“The prince cut off the man’s arm, he did.” Kurtz chopped the edge of his hand against Inko’s arm. “Can’t have lived through that, eh?”

“Men have lived through worse,” Sir Gavin said.

Kurtz’s grin dimpled his cheeks under his trimmed blond beard. “Not much worse than losing a limb, eh?”

“Could we locate a personal item?” Sir Eagan asked.

Sir Gavin nodded. “Ôwr should be enough to bridge a connection. The sword belonged to Esek for years.”

“I left it in my chamber,” Achan said, drawing everyone’s gaze back to him. “And I have nothing that belongs to Lord Nathak.”

“Continue to try to access their minds, Your Majesty,” Sir Eagan said. “It is likely one of them may let down their guard at some point.”

Achan glared at the lamplight reflecting on the tabletop. “I thought the same of Sparrow, and
she
has not lowered her guard.”

No one answered this statement, and Achan felt foolish for mentioning Sparrow yet again.

“We received another suggestion for a general, Your Highness.” Sir Caleb passed a scroll to Sir Eagan, who passed it to Achan. “Lord Orson had requested that his son, Koyukuk Orson, lead Berland’s army.”

Achan glanced at the scroll, then around the table. “That seems like a reasonable request.”

“Sir Koyukuk is being young for a general,” Inko said.

Sir Gavin shifted, and the lamp in the center of the table blocked Achan’s view of the old knight’s face. “Aye, Inko, but he’s well-trained.”

“That gives us how many generals?” Achan racked his memory to recall all the names. “Five?”

“Six, Your Highness.” Sir Caleb shuffled through his scrolls. “Prince Oren leads Arman Duchy. Tristan Loam is in charge of Carm. Baldwin Agros, Allown. Chaz Dromos leads the Mârad rebels. Keano Pitney leads Nahar. And now Sir Koyukuk over Berland. That’s roughly… twelve thousand seven hundred men.”

Achan sought a reaction from the expressions around the table. “Is that a lot? It seems like a lot.” Many more than the three hundred or so they had freed from Ice Island not long ago.

“If we can get them all together, aye, ’tis a formidable army,” Sir Gavin said. “Though at least thirty thousand more live in Er’Rets who are capable of fighting. Why they do not join us—whether they choose not to fight or to serve one of our adversaries—I cannot say.”

“We should be finding one more general soon. Seven is a stronger number than six,” Inko said.

Achan slid the scroll back to Sir Caleb and peered past the lamp to Sir Gavin. “Did we determine the location of Esek’s army?”

“Our scouts last saw Captain Keuper in Har Sha’ar,” Sir Gavin said. “Seems to be the same group Esek was with outside of Mitspah.”

“But no sign of Esek with them?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“And the other scouts?”

“No reports as of yet. And I’ve not heard back from the man I sent to the Sideros Forest. We must be on our guard when we head that way.”

“When will that be?”

“As soon as possible.”

Achan frowned. He was just getting used to Granton Castle. “And what of this New Council?”

“Much news,” Sir Eagan said. “Duchess Amal has discovered through Lord Levy that a man called the Hadad is the new chairman of the council.”

A tremor squeezed Achan’s chest. “The man who spoke to me in that pit in Barth! He took control of the Council?”

“From what Lord Levy claimed, the Hadad has had a longstanding relationship with him and Lord Falkson.”

“So he has been plotting this overthrow with Falkson?” Inko asked.

“So it seems.” Sir Eagan ran a hand over his thin, black hair and glanced at Sir Gavin. The men exchanged something between them, an understanding with their eyes.

“What,” Achan asked. “Is there something more?”

Sir Gavin took a deep breath. “We simply wonder how long this man has been scheming. How deep and far his designs may go.”

A silence hung over the table, as if Achan had suddenly lost his hearing. He glanced from face to face, taking in solemn expressions and averted eyes. Realization hit him like a fist to the jaw. “You think he killed my parents.”

3

“We’ve always known someone else was involved, someone with a powerful bloodvoicing ability,” Sir Gavin said. “This Hadad fits that description.”

Achan’s thoughts circled. The Hadad had bloodvoiced him not long ago, asking him to join him, to betray Sir Gavin, to turn from Arman. “Why would he want me to join him?”

“Because you are powerful,” Sir Eagan said. “Because you are crown prince. And because if you join him, he does not have to figure out how to kill you.”

Achan slouched in his chair and rubbed his face. “How can we know for sure he killed my parents?”

Sir Gavin lifted one shoulder. “We can’t.”

Achan slapped his hand on the table. “There must be a way. Sir Eagan, the trick with touch and giving me your thoughts— could I use that in reverse?”

“You cannot take a man’s thoughts. Only receive those that are offered.”

“I could ask him.”

“Your Highness, please.” Sir Eagan squinted, making him look all the more serious. “Do not toy with this man. His mystery hides his true power from us, but if you go to him, you make yourself vulnerable in displaying your weakness.”

Achan wanted to yell but kept his tone civil. “Why is asking a question weak?”

“Because you reveal he has something you want. That gives him power over you. Do not let him suspect you have anything more than indifference for him.”

“But if he killed my parents…”

“I know. Believe me, no one wants justice for the king and queen more than I.” For Sir Eagan had been King Axel’s Shield. “But vengeance belongs to Arman. We must focus on the path He has set before us and nothing else.”

“But it won’t hurt to pinch off the Hadad if we get the chance, eh?” Kurtz winked at Achan.

“Who serves on this New Council?” Sir Gavin asked.

Sir Eagan consulted Sir Caleb’s scroll. “Lord Levy, Dovev Falkson, and an Eben named Rapha Gibbor. Duchess Amal suspects there are more, but the title ‘Council of Seven’ has not been mentioned. The New Council may have only four members.”

“Lord Hamartano was not mentioned?”

“No,” Sir Eagan said. “But if what you told us about his leaving Jaelport was true, he now serves Lord Falkson and the black knights. He would no longer hold rank of his own unless the Hadad gives him one.”

“Which reminds me, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said. “You should begin lessons with Duchess Amal tomorrow, if she has time. The sooner you learn to storm, the better.”

Achan’s heartbeat quickened. He was going to learn to storm. Finally.

Achan shivered in the dark, stone passage. After the meeting, Anillo, Duchess Amal’s steward, had offered to give Achan a tour of the hidden passages within the walls of Granton Castle. Shung, of course, had come along.

They had begun their journey in Duchess Amal’s study, inched their way along the second level of the great hall, climbed a tower stairs, and were now stepping through a panel that slid to one side and emptied into Achan’s bedchamber.

Achan stepped inside. The secret corridors had been cramped and narrow. He stretched his arms out wide now that there was space. “The stairwell we took. Does that lead to the first level?”

“It does, Your Majesty.” Anillo slid the panel closed. His white hair belied his lithe body. “But you must promise not to go exploring without a guide. I would be happy to show you more.”

“Perhaps another time. It has been a long day and I require rest.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Anillo bowed and departed through the regular door.

Achan sat on his bed and pulled off his boots. It was not even time for dinner, yet he was ready to sleep.

• • •

A whimpering pup woke Achan. He blinked, found his surroundings dark, and sat up in a panic. The pale moonlight filtering through the privy door proved he was still in his chamber in Carmine. What hour was it?

Another whimper. The sound was coming from the far corner of the room. Not a puppy, though. A weeping child.

Understanding fell on Achan. “Matthias, come here.”

The sound turned to sniffling. Bare feet padded over the floor until Matthias’s silhouette stood at Achan’s bedside. The moonlight shone on the lad’s tear-streaked cheeks.

Achan’s chest tightened. “You miss your father?”

Matthias sniffed. “Yes, sir. And Mama. And Linos. The bed is so big. I used to share one with my brothers… before.”