From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [113]
“Morning, Matthias,” Achan mumbled.
“You’ve got new wounds, sir.”
Achan lifted his head and winced. “What?”
“On your back.” Matthias pointed. “Cat scratches.”
Achan’s mind swirled. A cat? He sat up and twisted around, trying to see what Matthias was on about. He could barely see the end of a pink welt that curled around his side halfway between his arm pit and his waist.
What in all Er’Rets?
“That cat got you pretty good, Your Highness. Best be careful around them in the future.” Sir Caleb was sitting at the table, poring over scrolls.
Achan rubbed his eyes and squinted at Sir Caleb. “Have you been sitting there all night?”
“No. For night has gone, as has the new morning and most of the new day.”
Scenes from the previous night flashed through Achan’s memory. Challa. She had scratched him. He wilted under the force of his own stupidity. Praise Arman for new mornings.
Matthias still stood at Achan’s bedside, awestruck. “Was it a chatul cat, sir? Did you kill it?”
“Huh?” Achan’s tongue felt like a wood chip. He needed water.
“The cat, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said. “The boy would like to know if you killed it.”
Blood rushed to Achan’s face. Pain spiked in his temples. His stomach seized. Fluid rose up his throat and nose. He pressed his lips together, clamped a hand over his mouth, and lunged out of bed toward the chamber pot.
After retching for what seemed like an eternity, Achan fell onto his rear and lay on the floor, arms and legs spread out like the destination on a map. His nose and throat stung. He panted short, deep breaths to calm his angry stomach.
A shadow passed over him. Sir Caleb looked down, shaggy blond mane framing his face. He held out Averella’s dress sleeve and a dark wine bottle. He smelled the bottle’s opening and set it down beside Achan’s waist. “Smells like it was good.”
Achan groaned through another intense pang in his head.
“I learned long ago, as you likely have from your experience last night, that one should not drink more than one glass of any Carmine red in one sitting. And never on an empty stomach.” Sir Caleb dropped Averella’s sleeve, which fluttered in the air over Achan until it settled on his bare chest. “Best not to lose that until after we are safe in Armonguard.”
Sir Caleb walked away, and Matthias’s small face reappeared at Achan’s side. The boy crouched and sniffed the bottle then folded his arms and stared at Achan.
Without moving his head, Achan shifted his eyes to meet the boy’s. “The cat got away, Matthias. She nearly killed me, though.”
Matthias smiled, as if this concession made the whole ordeal worthwhile.
18
“Head for the main gate, Master Fox.”
“Aye, m’lady.”
Noam steered the wagon through the outskirts of Mahanaim. The road was deserted. In the Darkness, Averella could not guess the hour.
“I shall bloodvoice Master Rennan to see if I can learn his precise whereabouts.” Averella closed her eyes and focused. Master Rennan? May I speak with you, please?
Bran sounded tired. My lady, are you well?
We are, thank you. We approach the gate. Can you tell me the way to the dungeon? Will the front entrance—
Averella, do not attempt this.
We stand a much better chance of success with your guidance, Master Rennan.
Prisoners are being executed daily. Fed to the great tanniyn. I would never forgive myself if you were captured.
Perhaps Bran still cared. We shall not stand by while innocent men are slaughtered. The location of the dungeon would help us greatly.
Bran’s tone rose. Do not be a fool! There is nothing two women can do. Go home. Tell Gren I said the same.
Averella bristled. Women are not so completely useless as you believe, Master Rennan. And as I mentioned before, we have two able men with us. Abandoning you would break Gren’s heart, for she seems intent on being near you.
It’s far too dangerous for Gren. Bran’s voice softened. She could be hurt—or lose her child.
Is this the real reason we have parted ways, Master Rennan? Is this child yours?
Averella sensed Bran’s anger flare. You know me better than