From Darkness Won (80 page)

“Achan?”

But he only stared, the hand against her back trembling. A single tear streaked down from the corner of his eye and vanished under his ear, painting a clean stripe through the dirt on his face.

“You did it, Achan! I heard your voice. I sang with you. You brought all Er’Rets into fellowship with Arman. I have never been so proud of anyone.”

He grimaced, as if the compliment pained him. “Sparrow—”

“We asked the soldiers to bring the wounded here. Do you think that will do? I do not know this castle well enough to take them inside. Besides, the fresh air will help to—”

“Vrell!” Achan swallowed. “My lady Averella.” His hand clenched behind her, taking the back of her tunic in his fist. He closed his eyes. “Bran is dead.”

A chill fell over her as if the sun had passed behind a cloud. She shook her head. “No, I— I can still sense him.” But even as she said it, she knew she could no longer feel Bran’s presence.

“He saved my life,” Achan said. “I realize you might not consider that the best exchange, but… I am sorry.”

She tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. The world spun around her, everything blurred, green, white, silver, red.

Achan spoke to her, a low, muffled sound she could not interpret. Her feet left the ground as Achan lifted her just before she fell.

She woke in a chamber brightly lit by sunlight streaming through a set of opened double doors that led to a balcony. She lay on a double tester bed canopied in white organza linen that shifted in a breeze sweeping through the doors. She wore a nightgown. One of her own. Mercy. It had been ages since she’d worn this.

Where was she? This was not her bedchamber. How had she come to be here? She sat up and slipped out of bed.

The chamber was large, curved on one side, likely on the perimeter of one of the arcs of the Armonguard keep. She frowned. Did that mean the war had been real? And what Achan had told her of Bran…?

The walls were bare on one end of the chamber, covered in colorful tapestries on the other. Two servants stood where the
t
apestries ended, working together to hang more tapestries. A maid stood beside the door.

“Good morning, dearest.”

Averella turned and found her mother sitting in a wicker chair on the other side of her bed. “Mother!”

By the time she reached the chair, Mother had stood. They embraced. Averella started to cry.

“I am so sorry, dearest. He was a good and brave young man.”

This declaration ended all communication on Averella’s part, for all she could do was sob into her mother’s chest. She searched her memory to recall what her last words to Bran had been.

She could not remember.

This only made her cry harder. Mother helped her back into the bed. She did not know how long she lay there before she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke again, her curiosity grew stronger than her grief. She turned onto her side and drew the organza curtain aside. All the tapestries had been hung now. A maid stood by the door. The wicker chair was empty, but Averella’s mother stood on the balcony, looking out over the lake.

“Mother?”

Mother jumped, then walked to Averella’s bedside. She placed her hand on Averella’s cheek. “How do you fare?”

“Forgive me for my self-pity. What a fool I have been.”

“Not a fool. Grieving is necessary when a loved one is lost.”

“How many nights have passed since—”

“Only one. We gave you hops tea to help you rest.”

She felt hollow. “I am hungry.”

“Then I shall have something brought up.” Mother nodded toward the doorway, and the maid scurried out the door.

“I am in Castle Armonguard? It is still standing then?”

“Oh, yes. The battle did no damage to the main keep. They are already repairing the sentry walls.”

Averella pushed up onto one elbow. “I should get dressed and help Father and Jax with the wounded.”

“You will do no such thing. There are now over twenty healers in the bailey working on the wounded. Each army had some of their own, you know. You, Jax, and Sir Eagan are not the only healers in Er’Rets. Relax. All will be well.”

Averella lay back on the bed. “Sir Caleb?”

“He is fine.”

“Esek and Lord Nathak?”

“Defeated.” She looked out the balcony again. “Utterly.”

“How did you get here so quickly? I thought you remained home.”

For once, Mother looked almost sheepish. “I confess I could not. I boarded one of Captain Chantry’s ships as it passed Carm. I’ve been sailing for the past week.”

Averella squeezed her mother’s hand. “I am glad you are here. I am so sorry for all the trouble I caused.”

“Think nothing of it. I forgive you.” She brushed a soft kiss on Averella’s forehead. “Are you feeling well enough to receive guests?”

Averella ran a hand over her tangled hair. “I must look a fright.”

“The prince is not among those waiting. He paced outside your door half the night until Sir Caleb whisked him away. He is likely sleeping now.”

Disappointment washed over Averella. But Achan deserved rest. “Who
is
waiting?”

“Gypsum and Syrah are in the solar just outside your chamber. Shall I let them in?”

Averella sat up. “Of course. What about Rioja, Terra, and Mariel?” For Averella wanted to see all her sisters.

“They are on an outing with Sir Eagan. I shall fetch Gypsum and Syrah at once.” Mother left the room and returned a moment later with Averella’s sister and maid.

Gypsum ran to Averella’s bedside and took her hands. But Syrah remained beside the door, ever the reserved servant.

“Oh, Vrella!” Gypsum said. “We had to stay on the ship when all the soldiers came ashore to fight. Mother said you would have stayed in Noiz, but I did not doubt you would sneak away with the men. To see you well…” She kissed Averella’s cheek. “I am so thankful.”

“I did not
sneak
anywhere. I put on trousers, yes, but I went straight to my father’s chamber and received his permission to go along.”

Gypsum frowned at this. “Mother told me about her and Sir Eagan. I still cannot believe it.” Her eyes lit up. “You have not heard the latest in regards to Sir Eagan’s love for Mother. But I shall let her tell it.” Gypsum turned aside so that Averella had a clear view of where Mother stood with Syrah.

“You have news, Mother?” Averella asked.

“Sir Eagan and I intend to marry.”

Merciful heart! “Oh, Mother! How exciting! When will this take place? Right away?”

“No, dearest. Not until after…”

“After what?”

Gypsum sat on the edge of Averella’s bed. “The date of Mother’s wedding depends entirely on you, dear sister.”

“How so? If you are seeking my approval, Mother, you need not.”

“I do not wish to upset you.”

“Impossible. What greater joy than to see my parents wed. I give you both my happiest blessing. What a celebration it shall be! Name the day.”

“Mother and Sir Eagan cannot marry until they return to Carmine,” Gypsum said. “It would be a scandal not to marry there.”

“Well, of course you would marry in Carmine,” Averella said. “I did not mean to imply otherwise. Only that it should be soon. You have been parted for too long.”

Gypsum sighed like an exasperated tutor. “Vrella, you are thicker than a redpine. None of us will be leaving Armonguard until Prince Achan is crowned. And if he is to marry, that will likely happen first. So, dear sister, am I to marry Prince Achan or are you?” She raised her eyebrows and flashed a wicked smile.

Averella laughed. “Merciful heart! I see the problem now. Thank you, Gypsum, for saying it so plainly, but rest assured, d
ear sister
, it will not be you.”

“I do not believe you know the prince’s mind that well,” Gypsum said, a haughty grin on her face. “For I spoke with him last night at dinner, and he paid me a nice compliment. If you still harbor doubts, I would be happy to fulfill Mother’s promise.”

“You must know that Mother rescinded that offer.”

“Yes, but the prince has not yet given me an answer,” Mother said, fighting a smile.

“See?” Gypsum bounced on the edge of the bed. “So there is still a chance I could marry him.”

Averella couldn’t keep a deep laugh from escaping. “Then perhaps Mother’s wedding date depends on you and not on me, Gypsum.”

“Oh, enough teasing, please!” Syrah said from her place at the door. “I can’t bear it. Tell us, my lady, please.”

“First, Syrah, come and give me a hug.”

The maidservant rushed to Averella’s bedside, and the two embraced.

“I was so worried about you, my lady. When your mother said you were lost…”

“None of that, now. I am perfectly well. And to ease your mind I shall tell you all that Prince Achan and I did speak before leaving Noiz.” She removed her necklace and slipped the half coin from its pouch. “Not only do I still carry his father’s ring, but he gave me this.” She held the coin up on her palm.

Mother, Gypsum, and Syrah all leaned in, eyes wide.

Syrah squealed and clapped her hands like a delighted child.

“Half a coin?” Gypsum frowned. “I do not understand.”

“Peasants sometimes split a coin as a token of an engagement,” Syrah said. “Because they cannot afford rings. But never with a gold coin, my lady.”

Averella studied the coin. The idea of marrying Achan soon, of being able to see him every day—without a chaperone!— sent a thrill from her head to her toes.

39

Achan sat at a table in a vast chamber. It was yet another meeting, but this time only Sir Caleb, Sir Eagan, Sir Gavin, Shung, and Prince Oren were present.

Dozens of reports had come in from allies across Er’Rets, who had until now been living in Darkness. People were celebrating, singing and dancing all hours of the day. An extraordinarily high number of people spent time outdoors, enjoying the sunlight and how nature was budding and blooming like spring. There would be one more hard winter there, but next fall would bring the first harvest western Er’Rets had seen in thirteen years.

There were also reports of people hiding from the light, as if the sun was a different kind of curse. Many Poroo and Eben tribes and some entire families from Melas and Mirrorstone were said to have gone underground, locked themselves indoors, or
m
oved into caves. Achan wondered if they would ever recover from the influence Darkness had left on their minds.

Sir Caleb had recovered from his blow to the head. Achan and Duchess Amal had gone into the Veil, searching for Prince Oren’s stormed self. It took two days, but they had found him wandering the tombs of the kings in Noiz. Together, they had managed to reunite Prince Oren with his body. He had lost half his left leg from the green fire. A wooden cone was attached to his thigh and tapered to the floor. He moved about with a cane. He had lost a good deal of weight and his face was gaunt, but he was in good spirits. He’d accepted Achan’s thanks for saving his life, but refused to allow Achan to blame himself for the loss of his leg.