From Darkness Won (31 page)

The beefy man dropped two bulging linen sacks into the wagon then hoisted himself over the side. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pried up the casket’s lid with a knife. He slid the lid back and lifted Averella’s body out. Holding her close, he jumped off the wagon and carried her to a small cart. He dropped her inside, covered her with linen sacks, and pushed the cart toward the inner gatehouse.

It all happened so quickly, Averella could only stare.

Gren lifted one more heavy sack into the back of the wagon. She pulled herself up, loaded all three sacks into the casket, and slid the lid back into place.

“What’s this Poril sees?” a man’s voice said.

Averella turned to see an old man with a dusting of white hair standing on the other side of the wagon. He was as tall as the beefy man who had taken her body, maybe taller, though his hunched posture made it difficult to tell.

“Master Poril.” Gren jumped down off the wagon.

“Poril heard yeh went away, Madam Hoff. But now Poril sees yer back and causing more mischief.”

Gren threaded her arm with the old man’s and led him away from the wagon. “Remember what you said to me the day Sitna heard the news. That you’d do anything to go back and make it right?”

Poril’s eyes grew wide and glossy. “Poril would have never laid a hand on the boy had Poril known the truth, I’ll tell yeh that. Poril’s a kind soul, he is.”

Gren patted his hand. “I know you are, Master Poril. But Lord Nathak is deceiving you again. For the woman in that casket is not dead. And Lord Nathak wants to hurt her.”

“What does Poril care of the master’s business? It’s only ’cause Poril is the best cook in Er’Rets that the master be taking Poril to Armonguard. And Poril can’t be left behind.” The old man lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. “Poril needs to see the boy again, he does. How else can Poril set right all that’s been done?”

“But that’s just it, Master Poril. Achan loves this lady.”

Averella straightened at this.

“Bah!” Poril waved a hand. “The boy loves yeh alone.”

Gren shook her head. “Not anymore, Master Poril. He’s betrothed to Lady Averella of Carmine now. Wears her sleeve on his arm, even as he marches into battle.”

Icy fingers stroked the back of Averella’s neck. That Master Cham would love her, wear her sleeve, and she not know him. How?

The old man’s eyes misted. “Poril heard he killed a cham.”

“Yes, he’s very brave, Master Poril. But Lord Nathak means to force Lady Averella to marry Esek.”

Surely not! She suspected Lord Nathak of vile things, but that he would kidnap her and force her to marry…

Poril sneered. “Poril never did like the master’s son. Pompous brat. Criticized Poril’s pastries and pies, he did.”

“Please help us. Help Achan. Keep silent about what you’ve seen. Let us take Lady Averella back to Achan. I’ll make sure he knows you played a part in her rescue.”

Poril’s thin lips stretched into a smile. “
Yeh’ll
tell the boy Poril helped?”

“The moment I see him. I promise you.”

He patted Gren’s shoulder. “Yeh have Poril’s silence, yeh do. Poril’s a fair man, he is, and owes much to the boy.”

“Thank you, Master Poril. You are indeed good and fair. I must go.” Gren walked casually toward the gatehouse.

Poril returned to the cart and climbed up on the driver’s bench. The driver was still assisting Noam with the horses.

Averella floated after Gren. She caught up with her in the outer bailey. Gren was now walking with the beefy man, who pushed the cart past a barn and around dozens of cottages with thatched roofs. He stopped before one such cottage and lifted Averella into his arms. Gren opened the front door, and they went inside.

Averella floated through the wall in time to see the man carry her body through a doorway in the back of the cottage. Averella shadowed Gren into a bedroom. The man stood beside a wide bed where Averella’s body now lay.

Gren stopped in the doorway. “Is she… dead?”

“No. She breathes. We should fetch a doctor but—”

“Harnu, we can’t!”

The pockmarked man turned his brown eyes to Gren. “But that would be unwise, I was going to say. We shouldn’t even keep her in the stronghold. Once they learn she’s gone, it won’t take ’em long to search every cottage in the manor.”

Gren swallowed. “What can we do?”

“Get her out of Sitna before they come looking.”

“Should we put her back in the cart?”

“Let’s wait for Noam. If Lord Nathak and his men depart as scheduled, we’ll be able to leave without anyone suspecting us.”

Averella waited in the cottage with Gren and Harnu for what seemed like hours before Noam arrived.

“They’ve left,” Noam said, a wide grin plastered across his narrow face. “We’ve done it!”

Gren grinned and embraced Noam.

Harnu stared at Gren and Noam like a jealous lover. “My father has a cottage in the Sideros Forest. We could keep her there ’til she wakes. Then we can journey south.”

Gren stared at Harnu. “You’re going to help me?”

He nodded. “You can’t stay here. Word will spread that you’ve returned. And when they discover Lady Averella’s body is gone, they’ll question you.”

Gren squealed. “Thank you, Harnu. Thank you both.”

“Why do you and Lady Averella need to go to Armonguard?” Noam asked.

Averella waited for Gren’s answer, for she could not imagine why she would travel alone with a peasant woman, especially such a great distance.

“Our reasons are our own,” Gren said. “Lady Averella’s things are out here.” She ducked out the door, but her voice carried into the bedroom. “How will we get the horses?”

“I’ll take them out to exercise them,” Noam said, following her. “No one will question that.”

“Until Oster realizes they’re gone,” Gren said.

“I’ll tell him the guests departed,” Noam said.

Averella drifted back into the main room.

Gren wrung her hands together. “So much is left to chance.”

“It’s left to Cetheria,” Harnu said, stepping out of the bedroom. “She’s noble and just. She’ll protect us.”

Averella wrinkled her nose. Cetheria?

A bird cawed, drawing Averella’s attention away from the discussion. The eerily familiar sound plucked a string in her heart. She stuck her head through the wall of the cottage and glanced around for the source.

A black bird perched on the edge of the cart that Harnu had carried Averella’s body in. It cawed again, revealing rows of sharp teeth in a bat-like head. A gowzal. Averella could only stare, knowing she had never seen such a creature outside of paintings and tapestries.

Yet certain she had.

13

Achan squeezed his hands into fists, overwhelmed with frustration. All day he had tried and failed to contact Sparrow. He looked to Sir Eagan, who sat across from him, the only other occupant of the wagon beside Matthias, who lay sleeping in a pile of blankets at Achan’s feet.

“How can Sparrow close her mind?” Achan asked, unable to mask the tinge of desperation in his voice. “If she lost her memory, how can she bloodvoice at all?”

Sir Eagan’s pensive eyes met Achan’s. “She would not lose her abilities and has likely closed her mind instinctively. I suspect something frightened her.”

The whole situation frightened Achan. But he needed to be strong to bring Sparrow back from the Veil.

Then back into his life.

The wagon traveled over a bump on the road, and he put a hand down to steady himself. This wagon was as fine as any room in Granton Castle. The interior was walled in colorful tapestries. Two couches upholstered in red silk filled the front and back walls. A narrow table stretched down the long wall facing the door, which was covered in a thick linen drape tied shut to keep out dust from the road.

The impending battles nagged at the back of Achan’s mind, but he pushed those thoughts aside to focus on Sparrow. “Why can’t I see through her eyes?”

“You cannot see through her eyes, because her eyes are in her body.” Sir Eagan’s calm bled into Achan.

Achan wanted to tell Sir Eagan what to do with his calming tricks, but gave himself over to it. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, clinging to Sir Eagan’s peace. When he spoke again, his voice sounded normal. “But isn’t her mind in her body?”

“Her brain is in her body, but what you refer to as her mind is really her essence, her spirit and soul. That is in the Veil. And the Veil is where Vrell truly is. She has been pushed from her body before her time.”

This was almost too much to fathom. That sweet Sparrow, who had so wanted to end her adventuring, had been forced into another. “If Lord Levy cannot bloodvoice, who could have stormed her?”

“I cannot say.”

“How much farther to Sitna?”

Sir Eagan studied his hands. “Tomorrow evening.”

“I don’t suppose Sir Caleb would approve of my being included in the rescue party.”

“I think not, Your Highness. Nor would I.”

Achan gritted his teeth. “How did you survive in Ice Island after losing the duchess? I tried to forget Sparrow, but she shadows me like an old wound. And now this.”

“You may try and convince yourself of all the reasons you should forget her, but forgetting is not the answer. You care for her. She matters to you. And it is painful to lose her. But pain, in time, brings strength and wisdom. Arman makes good of all things, if you give Him leave. Do not blame Him for what’s happened to Vrell.”

“I don’t blame Arman. I blame myself. If I hadn’t pushed so hard she—”

“
If
, Your Highness, is a word that will steal your soul. Do not waste your thoughts on ifs. What is done is done. Look to the future.”

Achan met Sir Eagan’s pale blue eyes. “What future?”

A soft smile spread across Sir Eagan’s face. “Despair does not become you, Your Highness. Do not lose sight of the goal.”

Achan looked at his lap. “Armonguard.”

“Precisely. Focus on Armonguard. Leave the rest to Arman.”

From the corner of Achan’s eye, he could see the dark maroon fabric tied to his arm. Another shadow that followed him everywhere. “But Câan told me if I submit to Him, He would give me the desires of my heart.” He glanced at Sir Eagan. “I thought He meant Sparrow.”

Sir Eagan chuckled. “Câan is not a wishing stone, Your Highness. What you think you desire now is not necessarily the most important thing. Câan has seen places in your heart that no man or woman will ever see. He knows your hopes for next year and thirty years from now. And He does not operate on man’s schedule. He will bless you in His time. But not necessarily in the ways you think you want now.”

No sense fretting, then. But for Achan, being calm never came naturally.

That night they made camp in a field. The soldiers in Achan’s division circled the wagons, creating a sentry wall around the camp with hundreds of tents erected inside.