From Darkness Won (84 page)

He peeked down the first row of stalls, which seemed to house only pigs. Where were the horses, then? “Noam? You in here?”

Footsteps plodded over dirt, nearing, as if someone were running his way. Achan’s guards stepped around him.

And then Gren appeared, cheeks pinked, looking pale in her black mourning gown that seemed a little too tight over the belly. She also looked to have gained some weight in her cheeks. “Achan!” she squealed. Her eyes darted to Achan’s guards, as if she didn’t know what to make of them. He would see her now as well. Perfect.

“It’s only Gren,” Achan said. “Sir Shung, meet Gren.”

Shung grunted and the guards fell back. Shung nodded to Gren. “Pleased to know you.”

“Sir Shung is my Shield and friend,” Achan said.

Gren lunged up and hugged Shung. “Oh, thank you for keeping him safe, sir!”

Shung’s arms remained stiff at his sides.
What a puppy
the fawn
is.

Achan grinned, but before he could respond to Shung or Gren, Noam stepped into the open.

“Achan.” Noam glanced at the guards and lowered his gaze. “I mean, Your Highness.”

“No, Noam. None of that from you.” Achan pulled his old friend into a rough embrace and clapped him on the back. “How are you!”

“Fine, thanks. Unreal how the gods deceived us all. No wonder you were such a fighter.”

“I see you have put the stables back together.”

“Oh, Noam has done everything,” Gren said. “There were a few stable boys who used to work here, but none knew as much about the animals as Noam.”

“I figured as much,” Achan said. “Which is why I came to ask you to be Lord High Master of the Horse.”

“Master of what?”

“Lord High Master of the Horse. It is an official position. Means the management of the Royal Stables and all matters of horses and hounds fall to you. Breeding, care, feeding, things like that. What say you?”

“You think me worthy?”

“Are you not doing the job already?”

“Well, I suppose…”

“It is settled then, unless you wish to return to Sitna.”

“No!” Noam said. “I wish to stay here.”

“Very well then, Master of the Horse. Welcome home.”

Noam grinned, then laughed, then hugged Gren and swung her around.

“Achan, that’s wonderful!” Gren said. “But what of me?”

“You are welcome to live here, Gren.”

“What about my parents?”

“You think they would like to move here?”

Her eyebrows sank. “I don’t know.” She reached out and touched the edge of Lady Averella’s sleeve that was tied to Achan’s arm. “I heard Duchess Amal absolved you from your agreement with Lady Averella.”

“Aye, she did,” Achan winked, “though I think she and I shall keep the bargain anyway.”

Gren’s face paled. An awkward silence descended. Noam walked over to Shung and the guards and struck up a conversation.

“You really love her?” Gren asked Achan.

The thought of Sparrow made Achan smile. “Aye.”

Gren did not smile. “Well, I think she’s a fool for treating you the way she did.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “She had her reasons.”

She poked a finger against his chest. “Don’t you defend her. She was being a fool.”

He laughed and snagged her wrist to deflect any more knife-like jabs. “Fine. She was a fool.”

Gren sighed and pulled out of his grip. “I like her too.” She stepped back and leaned against the first pigpen. “She’s so smart.”

Achan huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Too smart sometimes.”

“I thought maybe you’d still want me.”

Achan’s face tingled as the blood drained away. “Oh, Gren. We talked about this back in Carmine.”

“You always wanted to marry me, and now that you are king, you can do anything you want, right?”

“Within reason.”

“And what is unreasonable about marrying the woman you love?”

“Gren.”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

The words struck Achan’s chest like a fist. But he had to be honest. “I’m sorry.”

Her bottom lip trembled.

“Nor do you love me in that way, Gren, so do not play games.” Achan looked over her black dress again. “Who do you truly mourn in this gown? Riga or Bran Rennan?”

A rosy flush crept over Gren’s cheeks, but she whispered a laugh. “Is it not ironic, Achan, that you’ll marry Bran’s former love and that I might have married…” She sucked in a long
a
nd quivery breath. “Was there any chance he’d have married me? I was certain he cared. I could see it in his eyes.”

Achan took her hand in his. “He did care, Gren.”

She clapped her free hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed. This did not stop the tears from leaking past her eyelids and trickling down her cheeks. Her other hand settled protectively over her unborn child.

Achan took her into his arms and held her tightly. She sobbed and trembled, and he stroked her hair with one hand and rubbed her back with the other.

Gren pulled away and met his eyes, her cheeks wet and glossy. “What will become of me? You were always my hero. You always stepped in to save me.”

“I cannot save you anymore, Gren. No man can save you always. We’re too flawed.”

“You’re going to tell me that your Arman god can?”

Achan shrugged. “Not if you already know it.”

“What you did to bring back the light… I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“There is no one like Arman, Grenny.” Achan told her then of how he had found Sparrow at the gates of Shamayim, of the glorious pull of that place, of meeting Câan in Mitspah. Of his choice to serve Arman above all things.

“Please, Achan. If you won’t marry me, take me as your servant. I can work in a kitchen. Let my child grow up in the castle where he’ll be safe and provided for. I can’t go back. The people in Carmine disdain me. And no one I know lives in Sitna anymore. Please, have mercy.”

“Harnu plans to return to Sitna.”

She snorted. “Harnu…”

“Harnu also asked me for my blessing.”

“To marry
me?
” She rolled her eyes. “That man.”

“I wonder if we have both misjudged him.”

Her mouth gaped. “Achan, you can’t be serious.”

“If he were any other man, how would you interpret his actions since Riga’s death? I’m told he maintains your cottage. And that he left his duty to his father to assist you and Sparrow on a foolish crusade. He risked his life for you both. He also fought in my army and earned a promotion.”

“Write a song about him, then, why don’t you?”

“Don’t let your childhood prejudices taint who he’s become. I beg you, consider his offer. I want to know that you are being taken care of. I’ll move your family, Harnu’s, the smithy, and your entire cottage to Armonguard, if need be.”

“I thought no man could save me?”

“That’s not what I meant. Promise me you will think about Harnu?”

Gren twisted her lips into a reluctant smile. “I will think about it. But I promise nothing more.”

42

A lot went into planning a wedding—even more so for planning a joint coronation. Achan allowed himself to be dragged along by Prince Oren, Sir Caleb, Sir Eagan, and Duchess Amal, agreeing to whatever they liked best.

Red velvet would be best? Very well.

Achan’s officers should carry an organza canopy? Fine.

The garden would make a lovely place to be wed? The garden it would be.

Achan simply wanted to be married. But Sir Eagan informed him that Duchess Amal had selected a date for the wedding that was still two weeks away. Achan desired no grand party. When he asked why he must wait two weeks, Sir Eagan said it had something to do with Lady Averella’s being a woman. Then Achan was sorry he’d asked.

He saw Sparrow only at mealtimes in the great hall. The duchess had her daughter on a strict schedule that involved bizarre beauty treatments, diets, and baths. Achan found this a waste of time. No amount of bathing in rose petals could improve perfection. Besides, he’d seen her reposed in trousers and an orange tunic—and liked her then.

Prince Oren took him to where the royal jewels were kept, in a locked, secret room off the king’s chamber. Here Achan marveled over crowns, swords and shields, rings, brooches, and more types of jewelry than he ever imagined existed. After spending hours looking over everything, Prince Oren suggested he choose something to send to Lady Averella as a gift. Something she could wear in the wedding. So Achan chose one of his mother’s crowns, and Sir Caleb had it sent.

Achan would have rather taken the crown to her himself.

One other task occupied his free time. He had grown up believing a man had one responsibility to complete before he could marry: he had to build a home, a place for his bride to live, a place to build a family.

Since Achan now owned Castle Armonguard, he didn’t n
eed
to build a home, so he poured all his efforts into remodeling the king’s chambers and the adjoining solar.

The two weeks flew by.

The night before his wedding Achan lay awake tossing and turning in his bed. Then at last a sudden calm came over him. He sat up and looked to the door. “Sir Eagan?”

But it was Sparrow’s voice that filled his mind.
My father taught me his little trick. Lay back, and I shall help you sleep.

Achan obeyed, but Sparrow’s attentions, no matter how calming, would never help him sleep.
What are you—?

Shh. I have a song for you.

A song?

Pity on my heart from the day I first saw you.

Your pleasing face burns—

Really? From the day you first saw me?

Yes. I was enamored with you. I simply could not figure you out. A stray soldier. You were a mystery.

Achan left his body and passed through the Veil until he floated above Sparrow’s bed. She wore a white gown. Her blankets were pulled up to her waist, and she smelled sweet. There were no chaperones in the Veil.
What did your mother make you bathe in today?

Rosewater and olive oil. Then I had to have yet another sea salt and honey scrub. And just when I thought it was over, a horrible, tortuous sugar and lemon paste.

How is a sugar and lemon paste tortuous? It sounds delicious.

But they don’t let me
eat
it. They use it to rip off my hair.