To Darkness Fled (14 page)

"Marry us, then. Now."

Jaira and the pontiff reached Achan. Jaira left the pontiff's side and took Achan's hand in hers.

Achan released a ragged breath and fell to one knee. "You've seized my heart, fair lady. I beg you let me serve you. Give me a task. Nothing is too great."

Oh, for pity's sake. Vrell tried to knock and found Achan's mind open. What in all Er'Rets?
Achan!

He jumped back to his feet, hand on where his hilt would be if he were wearing his sword. "Leave us in peace. We don't want you here."

Come out of here, Achan. This is a bad place.

"You are jealous!"

Jaira whirled, eyes wide. "What is it, my love? Do you hear someone?"

"Sparrow wants to take you from me." He pushed Jaira behind him. "Go away, Sparrow. I don't want to hurt you."

Vrell stepped into the light. "Achan, be serious. Come away at once."

"
Frell
, isn't it?" Jaira asked, stepping out from behind Achan. "How did you get in here?"

"The door was open," Vrell said.

"I don't like the way you disrespect the prince," Jaira said.

"Well, I do not like how you have stupefied him. It is my duty to protect him, and you have crossed the wrong squire."

Jaira giggled, throwing her head back so that the beads on the ends of her loose braids clacked together. "Your little squire is quite loyal, Your Highness, isn't he?"

Achan's lips twisted in a frown. "He's annoying, as usual."

Jaira sauntered down the aisle. "But he's such a brave young man." Her fingers slipped into the reticule on her belt.

Vrell backed toward the door. "Do not come near me. I saw what that dust did to him."

Jaira merely smiled. "Achan, would you hold him for me?"

"As you command, Princess."

Vrell clicked her tongue in disgust. "Achan, you fool! She has misted you. Do not do this. Pontiff, do you see the lady has bewitched my lord, the prince? She uses magic."

The pontiff shook his head. "Princess Jaira, this is most irregular. I beg you allow me to consult with Lord Eli."

Achan strode over to where Vrell stood and gripped her in a bear hug. Her feet lifted off the floor and her face pressed against his neck. He smelled like honeysuckle soap.

"The other way," Jaira said, "so I can see his face."

Achan dropped Vrell, spun her around, and gripped her from behind. Jaira lifted her hand.

Vrell squirmed, hoping the eunuch spoke truth and the powder would have no effect. Still, she lowered her head and bit Achan's arm through his thick brocade sleeve. He groaned but did not release her.

Jaira blew silvery powder in Vrell's face.

Vrell held her breath as long as she could, but when she could hold it no longer, she gasped. It smelled different from the eunuch's dust. Like spices and baking and flowers all at once. She smiled.

Jaira met Vrell's eyes and her red lips twisted in a smirk. "Release him."

Achan's grip vanished. The room spun. Vrell slumped to her knees, wishing to smell Jaira's powder again.

Jaira's voice came from above. "Now kill him. For me."

Achan's boots clomped away from Vrell. Praise Arman. Achan had refused.

"My lady!" the pontiff said. "I must protest. This is the
temple
of
Avenis
. Murder is disrespectful to the true nature of beauty. Don't touch that, Your Highness!"

Steel scraped against steel then more boot steps clomped, nearing. A sharp point pressed against Vrell's throat. "Must I kill him? Can't I knock him out?"

Vrell tensed at the prick against her neck. Achan must have taken a weapon from the offerings.

"Do you not love me?" Jaira asked.

"More than my own breath."

"Why, then, do you question me?"

Vrell drew in a long breath and refocused. Achan stood over her, facing Jaira. He clutched a long machete in one hand and had taken Jaira's face in his other.

"Forgive my foolishness. You're more beautiful than the stars." Then he kissed her.

Fire shot through Vrell. She leapt up and yanked Achan's braid.

His head snapped back and he spun around. "You little fox!"

"Kill him now!" Jaira screamed.

The pontiff scurried back to the side door, glancing over his shoulder every few steps.

Achan lifted the machete.

A tremble seized Vrell. She inched back.
Sir Gavin!

"I told you. You can't have her!" Achan swung the machete.

We're in the third floor corridor. Where are you?

The temple!

The blade passed so closely Vrell felt wind on her nose. She backed up two steps. Achan pressed forward. Vrell pulled out her own sword, sad as it was against the machete.

Achan swung a powerful attack that knocked Vrell's sword from her hands. It clanged on the flagstones. He swung again. Vrell jumped against the wall, knocking over several candles. The machete struck the gilded plaster, splintering a jagged gash in the smooth surface. Achan growled when the blade would not come out from the wall. He let go and gripped Vrell's throat in one hand instead. He squeezed. A flame licked at the toe of Vrell's boot.

The door burst open. Sir Gavin, Sir Caleb, and Inko thundered inside. All three men drew their swords. Jaira screamed.

Achan released Vrell, wrenched his machete from the wall, and backpedaled in front of Jaira. "No!" he cried. "She's mine, I tell you. She's pledged her love to me. If you're not here to support our marriage, be gone or I'll kill you all."

Sir Gavin scanned the room, brow furrowed in disbelief. "Enough foolishness, Achan. Lower the blade."

"To be making an alliance with Jaelport is being most unwise, Your Majesty," Inko said.

"This is no alliance," Sir Caleb said. "This is Jaelportian mage magic. I can smell it."

Achan yelled and swung the machete at Sir Caleb. The knight blocked the attack and drew Achan away from Jaira. Sir Gavin snaked around Achan's back and thumped him on the head with the pommel of his sword. Achan crumpled to the floor, writhing.

"Get him out!" Jaira screamed. "I knew he held a grudge against me. I knew it!"

Sir Gavin wheeled around, scanning the temple. "Who?"

"This man! The prince!" She pointed a thin, black-gloved finger at Achan, whom Sir Caleb and Inko were trying to pick up. "He attacked me as I was trying to leave an offering."

"Do not be absurd," Vrell said. "The pontiff and I saw the truth."

Jaira's dark eyes flashed. "All night the prince begged for a moment alone, claiming he loved me. I refused. And when I finally withdrew for the evening, he followed me here. Before I could finish my prayers, he barged in and tried to attack me, in the temple of all places. I shall be surprised if Avenis does not strike him down."

Vrell stormed up to stand before Jaira. "You are a mage. You used a love powder on him. The same powder you blew in my face. The pontiff witnessed this as well."

"Ridiculous." Jaira arrested Vrell with a cold stare. "You clearly have not suffered any powder."

Vrell poked a finger against the silky bodice of Jaira's gown. "I know what you did and why. Give up this foolish quest. He will never marry you. You are beneath him in every way. He hates deceit and control and lies. All that the Hamartanos hold dear."

"Vrell." Sir Gavin drew her name out in warning.

"You think tricking him to marry you will make you queen? It only exposes your deceitful nature for all to see. We are not fooled. You seek to marry the prince while your sister seeks to marry Esek. Know this, there will never be a Hamartano queen. I will kill you first."

Jaira gasped and huffed. "How dare you threaten me, stray? Larkos! Where is Larkos?"

"Larkos has been detained," Vrell said. "And you will meet the same fate if you touch Achan again."

"Vrell!"

Sir Gavin stood in the doorframe. Sir Caleb and Inko held Achan's limp body between them, one of his arms over each of their shoulders.

Sir Gavin beckoned her with his hand. "Let's go, lad."

Vrell shot one more glare at Jaira. "Stay away from Achan or you will regret it." She spun away from Jaira and followed Sir Gavin out the door.

11

Achan woke, pulse pounding in this temples. He blinked until his bleary eyes focused.

His body lay sunken in a featherbed, tucked under warm furs. Where was he? He pushed up onto his elbows, struggling to sit, but pain rushed through his head and his stomach heaved. He collapsed back onto the mattress and breathed deeply, looking up through the open canopy at the flickering firelight dancing across the dark ceiling. When the nausea passed, he reached a leaden arm up and drew the curtain aside. Orange coals smoldered in the hearth beside his bed, sprinkling shadows over the carved birds and vegetation that ensconced the marble hearth.

This was his chamber at Mirrorstone. But he didn't remember coming in. There had been wine at dinner, and later, when they were playing one hundred. One glass couldn't have bested him, could it?

Achan reached out to Sparrow's mind for answers, but his head hurt too much to focus. He lifted a hand to caress his temple, but it was lost in his ridiculously long quilted sleeve. He rolled both sleeves to his elbows and traced the raw scar on his left cheek. A spicy scent lingered on his fingers. Jaira. Why did his hands reek of her? He'd barely touched her.

An image of him holding Jaira's face flitted though his mind's eye.

He sat upright and ripped back the curtains on the other side of the bed.

Sparrow slept on the floor, slouched against the wall beside his bed, one knee pulled up to his chest, an arm draped across it.

"Sparrow!"

The boy twitched, and his arm fell to the floor. He blinked wildly and clutched his pathetic sword. "Is she here?"

"Who?"

"Jaira." Sparrow jumped up and hurried to the bedside. He laid his sword on the bed and set his palm to Achan's forehead. "Oh, Your Highness. Are you well?"

"I feel ill. Fuddled, I think. I've never been fuddled, so I can't be certain. Was there wine with dinner?"

"There is always wine with dinner, but you are not drunk. You were poisoned."

Achan's heart thudded. "I was?"

Sparrow stepped back. "If you remember nothing of last night, perhaps that is best."

"No, tell me." Achan leaned closer to examine a long purple bruise on the boy's neck. "What happened to you?"

"You professed your undying affection for Princess Jaira."

Achan grinned. "Very funny."

"She is a mage. All the Hamartano women are, I suspect. She asked you to smell a powder that robbed your mind and turned you into a sentimental fool. For her."

The look on Sparrow's face sobered Achan quickly. Horror seeped up his spine, bolstered by the lingering scent of Jaira and the memory of the embrace. "
Wh
-What did I do?"

Sparrow wrinkled his nose. "You proposed. And when I tried to stop you, you attacked me."

Achan rubbed his throat in the place where Sparrow's throat was bruised. "I did?"

"You were right, Your Highness. Passion does increase a man's strength."

The door to Achan's room inched open. Sir Caleb poked his shaggy head inside. "Good. You're up." He threw the door wide and he, Sir Gavin, and Inko lumbered in, carrying their packs as if they were ready to leave that instant. They dropped them inside the chamber and surrounded Achan's bed.

Achan glanced briefly at the knights, then back at the bruises on Sparrow's throat. "Sparrow, I...I'm sorry."

Sir Gavin raised a bushy eyebrow. "Vrell has told you, then? What went on last night?"