To Darkness Fled (75 page)

A prince probably shouldn't sit under a table like a dog.

Despite the foolishness of the idea, he did it anyway. Crossing his legs, he pulled the stool in and set his bowl on top. He smiled as he ate, feeling at home for the first time in months. Silly considering his comfort was due to a life of deceit and cruelty at the hands of Lord Nathak and Poril. Still, no amount of fancy clothes, featherbeds, or "Your Highnesses" could change his past. Being a stray was a part of him.

So engrossed in the stew, Achan didn't hear the light scuff of footsteps until it was too late. He sat motionless, hoping whoever it was would come and go quickly.

The rustle of fabric drew near until soft blue velour brushed his left hand. He jerked it into his lap, staring at the gold satin slippers that had stopped by his left knee. Slippers so fancy could only belong to a noblewoman. He held his breath. What noblewoman would walk in the kitchens at such an hour? The duchess' lady in waiting sent to fetch a snack, perhaps?

The layers of velvet rumpled as the woman crouched down, revealing inch by inch an immaculately embroidered robe and curling auburn hair cascading over her shoulders.

"Duchess Amal." Achan scrambled back and bumped into another stool. He pushed a stool to get out, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Why does the Crown Prince of Er'Rets sit under a table in my kitchen?"

Achan's cheeks flushed. "I...was hungry."

"Could you not call for a tray?"

"I wanted..." Achan cast his eyes to the bowl of stew on the stool. How could he explain without insulting this woman? He swallowed but could not meet her eyes. "I could not sleep and thought a snack might help. Take no offense, my lady, but I'm not used to such gracious hospitality."

"But not just a snack, Your Highness.
Under
the table? Why?"

Achan's face burned. "As a boy, I spent many a night under the bread tables in the Sitna kitchens. Despite his best efforts, Sir Caleb has not been able to train the slave boy out of me entirely. I'm afraid I am still most comfortable in a kitchen. I know it must sound mad, but it... feels like home."

To his great relief, the duchess smiled. Her green eyes flitted over his face, hair, cramped body, and bare feet. Sweat moistened his brow at her scrutiny. Something tickled his wrist. He glanced down to see a tiny black bug. He jumped, dropped his roll, swatted the bug away. Every muscle tense. He'd used Sparrow's pine juice. The fleas had been gone. He scratched his wrist, arm, shoulder, neck. They couldn't be back.

The duchess chuckled. "It's only a few ants, Your Highness. I would think one so seasoned to eating on the floor would be used to them by now."

Achan ran both hands through his hair, which was loose and not tied back. Oh, horror. Again he couldn't look at the duchess. What would she think? "I thought they were fleas." His breath hitched. Why had he said that? Fleas? Blazes!

The lady raised a sculpted brow. "Did you enjoy your time with the soldiers?"

He studied his father's ring. "Except for the fleas."

"You'll go to war, then? And fight alongside your men?"

"Should there be one, yes."

"And your wife?"

Achan blinked and met the lady's green eyes. "I have no wife, my lady."

"But you will soon."

Could this conversation become any more awkward? He picked up the roll and dropped it in the remainder of his stew. "I suppose I might."

"And what will she do while you are at war?"

Achan shrugged. "Whatever pleases her. If she's good with a sword, I'd welcome the company."

The duchess smiled. "Ah, you are droll. But what if she is with child? When this war comes."

Achan's lips parted, his cheeks filled with heat. He would not come to this kitchen again. He didn't appreciate Duchess Amal's midnight interrogation. She'd clearly thought more about his bride than he had.

She pressed on. "I mean no disrespect, but these are things a man must consider when taking a bride. Many say you traveled with a woman. What will your wife think of her?"

Achan sucked in a sharp breath. "Please. It wasn't like that, my lady, I promise you. Sparrow wasn't who she claimed to be. We all thought her a boy. Have you seen her? Did she pass through Carmine? Do you know where she lives?"

"Why do you ask, Your Highness? I would think you better off without her presence tainting your reign."

"Vrell could never taint anything. She's sweet and good and lovely--"

"You care for her, then?"

Achan thudded his head back against the table leg. "My feelings don't matter. She refused me, and Sir Gavin berated me for my recklessness and Sir Caleb for my carelessness and I for my foolishness and Caan for my selfishness. I'm a wretched prince. Far too impulsive. But I'll do my duty and marry whom they choose, and I'll love her as best I can. Does that satisfy your curiosity, my lady?"

She smiled. "It does."

Finally something had. "You know, I was freer as a stray."

"I understand that feeling. I hadn't wanted to marry the duke. It was the loneliest time in my life. At first."

Achan recalled Sir Eagan's tale of their past and decided she did understand. "Your intuition is right on target, my lady. I haven't once considered the inner workings of my future marriage past the identity of my bride. If it were my choice I'd marry Sparrow and live in a cottage in the mountains. I'd hunt and she'd keep a garden of herbs. We wouldn't be rich, but we'd have our freedom and each other."

He sighed and met Duchess Amal's green eyes. "Alas, my life isn't mine to live. I've now given it freely to Arman. He appeared to me, you know. Fairly destroyed his own temple. He's my master now and I trust his plan, even if I can't understand it. I only wish my obedience didn't come so bitterly. I fear if he could, Arman would give me a sound flogging for my demeanor of servitude."

Duchess Amal's eyes widened. "I think you misunderstand how Arman loves his people. He does not punish them."

Such a statement didn't align with what Achan knew of masters. "I only mean that I've never been a very contrite servant. Ask Lord Nathak." Achan chuckled softly, then bowed his head low. "Forgive me, my lady. I must beg leave of your gracious company. I'm very tired and if I continue to prattle on, you'll think me drunk."

"Of course." Duchess Amal stood, allowing Achan to crawl out from under the table. "Please do not go out alone again, Your Highness. You are welcome to sit under the table, but we recently had a traitor in our kitchens, and I would feel better knowing you were not wandering alone. At least bring your Shield under the table with you next time."

"As you wish." He scraped the contents of his bowl into the slop pail, rinsed the bowl, and set it on the drying rack. He bowed to the duchess again. "Good evening, my lady. You have a magnificent kitchen."

"Thank you, Your Highness. Good night."

41

Vrell perched on a stool in the dark corridor and stared through the peephole. The five Old Kingsguard knights sat around an oval table in Achan's bedchamber. Achan had dragged his chair down to the fireplace at the end of the room, where he sat alone, staring into the flames.

Sir Caleb held a parchment open on the table. "First we have Lady Tova Sigul of Hamonah, age fourteen. I still object to this offer. Hamonah worships Thalassa. We cannot consider anyone who does not follow Arman."

"But Hamonah is being at war with Jaelport," Inko said. "They're being extremely rich and would be bringing an immense dowry. The diamonds alone would be buying weapons and armor to be fitting a thousand soldiers. Surely Achan could be teaching the girl about the Way."

"Achan barely understands the Way himself." Sir Gavin said. "Don't burden him with an unbelieving spouse."

"Arman forbids it," Sir Caleb said. "In the Book of Life."

"Besides, 'tis too far away and unstable," Sir Gavin said. "And I trust Lord Sigul as much as I trust Queen Hamartano."

"Agreed," Sir Caleb said. "What say you, Eagan?"

Sir Eagan shrugged. "I say let him pick his own bride."

"Thank you," Achan said.

Sir Eagan continued, "But I would not marry him to any enemy, and I agree with Sir Caleb. He must wed a believer."

"But it would make for an interesting relationship, it would," Kurtz said. "Lots of sparks, eh?"

Vrell blanched. Could Kurtz think of nothing else?

"Is there a noblewoman at Zerah Rock?" Sir Caleb asked.

"None I know of," Sir Eagan said, "but it has been many years."

"A second cousin to Sir Rigil." Sir Gavin sniffed a short breath. "Were Achan a younger prince in a house of princes, he could marry whomever he wishes. We need a noblewoman of vast connections."

"And wealth," Inko said.

Achan groaned by the hearth. No one paid him any mind.

"Ladies Mandzee and Jaira are out," Sir Gavin said.

"Praise Arman for that," Achan mumbled.

Vrell smiled. A blessing indeed.

"I also recommend we reject Ladies Jacqueline and Marietta Levy of Mahanaim," Sir Caleb said.

Sir Gavin tapped his fingers on the table. "Agreed."

"You're throwing out all the options that are being the strongest," Inko said.

"Remind me your concern there?" Sir Eagan asked.

"They're Lord Levy's daughters," Sir Caleb said. "He voted for Esek as king."

"Ah." Sir Eagan nodded. "Wise to cut them, then."

Sir Caleb lifted the list again. "This leaves us with three options: Lady Gali Orson of Berland, age twenty-six--"

"Bah!" Kurtz wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Berland women are rough. Trust me, I know."

Sir Caleb continued, "Lady Halona Pitney of Nesos, age twelve--"

Kurtz blew a raspberry. "Oh, come on! The lad won't even be able to--"

"Kurtz," Sir Eagan said, "silence your useless comments."

"I'm just pointing out what none of you are bold enough to say. How many of you would wish to marry a child, eh?"

Sir Caleb sighed. "And finally, Lady Glassea Hadar of Armonguard, age fourteen."

"Prince Oren's daughter?" Achan's forehead wrinkled. "Isn't she my cousin?"

"Aye," Sir Gavin said.

"It would be making a strong blood match," Inko said. "A Hadar and a Hadar."

Achan's eyes bulged like he had swallowed a fly.

"Let us talk this out," Sir Eagan said. "The ladies from Nesos, Armonguard, and Berland are all heirs to duchies?"

"All but Glassea," Sir Caleb said. "Achan will rule that duchy."

"So marrying Glassea gets him nothing," Sir Eagan said. "He already has Prince Oren's support and rule of Arman Duchy. There is no bonus in this match. Cross her off."

"Thank you," Achan said.

"That leaves us Nesos and Berland," Sir Caleb said.

"Both of which voted for Achan as king," Sir Gavin said.

"Is one stronger than the other?" Sir Eagan asked.

"I see them as equal," Sir Caleb said. "Both have decent control over their duchy. Neither are the strongest. Nahar has Nesos, Xulon, and Walden's Watch. They're also in a civil war with the Ebens. That could divide their service. Therion has Berland, Meribah Corner--which we now know is useless--Zamar, and Har Sha'ar."

"A bunch of nothing, eh?" Kurtz said.

"True," Sir Caleb said. "Berland is strong, but Darkness has weakened Therion, I fear."

"Well, Pacey? What do you think, eh?" Kurtz asked. "Aged twelve or twenty-six? Personally, I'd go with the twenty-six-year-old. At least she'll look like a woman, she will."

"You'd be surprised," Achan said. "She's quite...brusque. Six feet tall and built like you. Tough as nails and a little scary. Nice, though. I vote against her because Shung dotes on her."

"Achan, Shung would never be permitted to marry her," Sir Caleb said. "He's a peasant."

"Not if I knight him."