From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [172]
How like a Hadar he had appeared when Sir Caleb had dressed him for the Council meeting.
And how like a king in those clothes Sir Eli had provided in Mirrorstone. She recalled her anger when Jaira had kissed him. Such a manipulative creature, Jaira Hamartano, trying to steal the throne for herself with magic.
Averella suddenly recalled other women who had been taken in by Achan Cham’s waggish smile.
A pretty red-haired girl in Melas.
Young Yumikak, who had danced with him all evening when their party had visited Berland. The girl had also snuck into his bedchamber to sing him to sleep that night.
Cousin Tara. The way Achan had walked with Tara on his arm. His glowing praise of Tara’s character and wit. The way his eyes had gleamed when he spoke of his plans to propose marriage.
And then there was that barmaid in Tsaftown. But Averella did not want to think about her.
She recalled Achan’s wide grin the day he had said, “Oh, I see. All this time, all the strange things you’ve said on my behalf. Jaira, Ressa, Yumikak, Lady Tara, Beska. You were jealous.”
Averella had denied it, of course, for his words had been cocksure and provoking. But he had been right.
She had been jealous indeed.
Averella’s legs were sore by the time they reached the entrance to Paniyn Gal.
A guard stopped them before they could enter into the great hall of the fortress. “Sir Eagan is expected. The rest of you must wait until I have instructions.”
Sir Eagan squeezed Averella’s hand. “Only a moment now.” His endearing gaze made her smile. He passed through the doorway and started up a grand staircase without calming her emotions.
She peeked in the open doorway and up a grand staircase. From where she stood, she could barely see the tops of tables and the heads and shoulders of dozens of men and women who were eating in a great hall of sorts.
A familiar laugh pulled her gaze to the far left. And there, at the center of the head table, stood Achan Cham.
The sight of him sent a tremor down her spine. He was handsome as ever, wearing a fine ensemble of blue and gold. He walked to the top of the stairs and greeted Sir Eagan in a warm embrace.
Suddenly everything clicked. As if she had forgotten nothing, Averella remembered it all.
He had tried to kiss her under the waterfall. She had been afraid and swum away. But he had found her the next day in his chambers, begged her not to go, told her he loved her. She had brushed it aside. Too set on her agenda. Pining away for the shelter of home. Wanting to hide from her heart and the vulnerability the truth would bring to her life. Because she was embarrassed that she had lied to him.
The soldier at the doorway stepped aside. “You may all enter now. To the top of the stairs please.”
Averella took a deep breath. Father was right. Only the truth would set her free now. And she longed for freedom from the bondage of her own lies.
Achan would be surprised to see her. Would he make a scene? The idea made her wince. She removed her helm from her pack. Better not to give him time to think it over as he watched her climb that steep staircase. She pulled her helm over her head and started up the marble steps, hiding behind her mask for the last time.
33
Achan stood at the top of the staircase. A half dozen people spilled into the foyer below. A woman led them up the center stairs. She wore a green dress with a bronze breastplate over it. A matching bronze helm covered her face. How bizarre.
“It’s Iamos!” a soldier yelled from one of the tables.
Achan turned toward his men. Most had stood to stare down the steps as the newcomers approached.
“Aye, I saw her and Marpay healing men in Mahanaim,” another soldier said from the end of the opposite table.
“They healed a hundred men,” a man near Achan said.
“She healed me!”
“She scaled the sorcerer’s tower and killed him.”
Suddenly everyone was standing, beginning to