From Darkness Won (82 page)

“But my father? Sir Gavin, you said that they were more in love than ever at the end. You told me—”

“Aye, but it was a long road back to repair all the hurt that had been done,” Sir Gavin said.

Achan took this information as a lesson from the father he would never know. He would not make that mistake for himself. “Take me back to my chambers.”

When they reached the king’s chambers again, Achan pulled down the sheet that covered the bed, then the one that covered the balcony doors. Dust clouded the room. He opened the balcony doors and waved in fresh air. He looked to Prince Oren. “Am I permitted to make some changes?”

“Of course,” Prince Oren said. “Change anything you like. We could remove the tapestries, repaint the room. All the furniture needs reupholstering anyway. I’ll have some swatches brought up and call the carpenters.”

Achan held up a hand. “All that can wait.”

“What, then, do you have in mind?” Prince Oren asked.

Achan peeked through the door into the queen’s chamber. “Put this bed elsewhere. Make this into a solar.”

Silence filled the room. Achan turned to see the men watching him. “Can I do that?”

“You
could
,” Prince Oren said.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said. “But do you plan to marry Lady Averella soon?”

Achan felt for the coin in his pocket. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Perhaps we should wait on such a major change until we know for certain,” Sir Caleb said.

“I don’t see why,” Achan said. “If I don’t marry her, I shall have a relaxing solar. If I do marry her, then
we
shall have a relaxing solar.” He grinned.

“So you would like your queen to have your mother’s chambers?” Prince Oren asked, his tone flat. “On the northern wing? I thought they displeased you.”

“They did,” Achan said. “My dear advisors, whomever I marry will share
my
chambers.”

Sir Eagan’s thin lips drew into a line. Sir Gavin’s eyes twinkled. Prince Oren hid a smile. And Sir Caleb honked out laughs like a goose.

“What is so funny?” Achan asked.

“The queen will be expecting her own space,” Sir Caleb said. “Privacy.”

Achan frowned at whatever it was he was missing this time. “Privacy from her husband?”

“Undoubtedly,” Sir Caleb said.

Achan shook his head. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

Sir Caleb laughed heartily now, as if Achan had asked Sparrow to live in the privy chamber. “You cannot surprise Lady Averella Amal with no chamber of her own.”

Achan massaged the back of his neck. He did not understand any of this. If he was to be married, why wouldn’t he and Sparrow live together? They would have in his cottage in the woods. So why not here? “Very well. Sir Eagan, send a message to Lady Averella making this known.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Sir Eagan said. “It is customary that the queen have her own chambers.”

Achan set his jaw. “Why?”

“Because noblewomen are used to having space of their own,” Sir Eagan said. “For their maids and gowns and such.”

Sparrow had grown up in a castle. She was used to such luxuries. “But I want us to share the same space.”

“Once you are married, there is no impropriety in your sleeping in each other’s chambers,” Sir Caleb said, “but you should still have your own.”

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
d
ifferently 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.”