From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [110]
She did that on purpose.
Sparrow again. The words she’d said when Lady Jaira had fallen against Achan back in Mirrorstone.
Get out of my head, Sparrow, Achan told himself.
He stepped back from Challa and bowed.
She tipped her head back and laughed. “Such a gentleman, yeh are. No one’s ever bowed to me before.”
“A crime, my lady, for you look like a noblewoman I know.”
Challa giggled. “A noblewoman? Me?”
“Aye.” Achan bowed again, delighted by her laughter. “My lady Challa, may I request the honor of a dance?”
“Well, I already said I’d dance, didn’t I?”
Achan grabbed her hand and waist, and they joined the crowd of dancers. They danced a long while, stopped for a drink, and danced some more. The crowd seemed delighted by Achan’s presence, and he reveled in their unabashed attention. Then somehow—though Achan could not remember when it happened or whose idea it had been—he and Challa ended up lying on their stomachs underneath Kurtz’s wagon, watching the dancers from the waist down and trying to guess who was who.
“That’s Shung and Lady Gali, for I’d recognize those charmice tails anywhere,” Achan said. “And there is Kurtz.”
“No, Yer Highness, Kurtz has brown boots, not black. He’s there.” Challa pointed to the other side of the clearing.
Achan squinted. Everything blurred together. “The torches must be burning low, Lady Challa, for I can hardly see your hand let alone where you’re pointing.”
She waved her hand in front of his face.
He laughed. “Now that I see.”
Challa set her hand against his cheek and turned his face away from the dancers. The torchlight reflected in her eyes like sparks from a firesteel. And suddenly she was kissing him, hungrily, like he was food and she hadn’t eaten in days.
He gasped for breaths between kisses, surprised by her affection, wondering if he should say something, but not wanting her to stop. She slid her hand up his tunic and clawed at his back like a baby cham bear.
Achan heard himself whimper, sensed the barrage of words Sir Caleb might say, but kept all rational thought at bay, remaining firmly in the fog thrilling his senses.
Challa pushed him to his back and crawled on top, nearly bumping her head on the bottom of the wagon. Dried grass pricked the back of his neck, but she kissed him again, and he forgot the irritation. Her kisses grew more intense.
A distant song broke through the fog. A woman’s voice, growing nearer. Familiar tune. Familiar lyrics. Achan held his breath, frozen like a rabbit that sensed a predator. Challa moved her kisses to his neck.
“… apart. Whenever we’re apart. Though I am nothing to you, I love—”
“Fool song knows nothing.” Shung’s voice was a low growl. “Gali is Shung’s moon, stars. Shung’s everything.”
“Aww. But still…” And Lady Gali finished the song. “I love you. How can I make it known, that I love you?”
Her voice… It raked over Achan like an icy wind.
He recalled Sir Eagan’s words from his manhood ceremony. “It is a man’s duty to protect a lady’s honor.”
And Sir Caleb’s said during one of many lectures, “It’s the very things a man never intends to do that sneak up and ensnare him.”
Achan gripped Challa’s shoulders and pushed her off him. “Forgive me, Challa. You are worth more than this.”
“You want to pay me more?”
Achan blinked, squinting to see her face in the darkness under the wagon. “Pay you?”
“Well, Kurtz, he already paid me plenty of—”
Achan sat up and bashed his head against the bottom of the wagon. He groaned through the pain and crawled out from under the wagon’s edge on his knees and one hand, the other hand clutching his head. He stood, and his vision swam in a blurry haze. He grabbed the wagon box to steady himself. When the dizzy spell passed, he crouched down and found Challa giggling.
“Are yeh all right, Yer Highness?”
Achan spoke softly, hoping to ease the pressure in his head. “I mean to say… that I am drunk on wine and pain. It was wrong of me to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, I don’t mind, Yer Highness.