From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [178]
“No,” Achan said, hoping he had missed nothing vital with his rambling thoughts. “Meeting adjourned.”
Everyone but Achan stood. Sparrow and Esper inched their way toward the door behind Inko and Bodwin.
Achan stood as well. “Sparrow, may I speak with you?”
She stopped where she was. Esper stepped around her and met Sir Caleb on the other side of the table.
“Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said, taking Esper’s hand. “She is Lady Averella, and you must not speak with her without a chaperone present.”
Heat flashed over Achan at Sir Caleb’s implication. He said nothing, however, for in all his time in his role as a prince, he had never once wished to spend a moment alone with any noblewoman. Sir Caleb had trained him how to behave, but this was Sparrow. He suddenly felt oafish and beneath her, for she knew how poor his manners really were. All the time they had spent together, she must have thought his behavior so coarse, so common, so rude.
Esper stepped back toward the table. “I will remain with Lady Averella if she would like to stay.”
“Thank you,” Sparrow said with a small curtsy.
“Very well.” Sir Caleb shot a warning glance at Achan and left the room.
And then there were four, since Shung remained beside the door and closed it behind Sir Caleb.
Sparrow hadn’t moved since she’d stopped on her path to the doorway. Esper took her elbow and tried to see her face.
Achan stood at the head of the table, feeling completely exposed. He glanced at Shung. Help me.
What can Shung do?
Something. Anything.
“Madam Agros,” Shung said. “We have not met.” His tone was stiff, his words more formal than any Achan had ever heard him speak. “I am Sir Shung Noatak from Berland. I have been in the prince’s service for several months now. I have much respect for Sir Caleb.”
Esper curtsied. “I am pleased to know you, Sir Shung. Sir Caleb is the finest of men.”
“Have you lived in Noiz long?” Shung asked.
Esper stepped closer to Shung. “For several years now.”
Lady Averella. Achan pushed past her shields as if they were made of steam. Her name felt strange, even in his mind.
She turned her gaze to his. She was likely exhausted from her journey. Her skin seemed paler than what was healthy, and she looked quite thin. Her moss-colored eyes contained as much mystery as ever.
What might it be like to know this woman for real?
She cocked one eyebrow, and her lips curved in a small smile. Yes, Your Highness?
Words were lost within him. He only knew he didn’t want to be parted from her, ever again. He couldn’t very well say that. I imagine you’re tired.
“I am indeed,” she said aloud.
Her words were soft, the sound of her voice hypnotic. Only one thing really mattered. One thing Achan needed to know. “Did you…” His eyebrows sank. “Remember?”
Shung and Esper continued to talk by the door. Sparrow lowered her gaze to where her fingers fidgeted with a pleat on her gown. Her eyelashes were long and dark and fell like soft shadows over her alabaster cheeks. Why did his thoughts turn to poetry when she was around? He wanted to grab her, squeeze out a favorable answer. But he waited—for what seemed an eternity to pass—before she finally spoke.
“I did.”
Small words to hold such power, but they emboldened him. “You became a man in order to avoid marriage,” he said, tossing the words she had used to reject him back at her.
“To someone horrible.” She reached into the neckline of her gown and pulled out a ring threaded on a length of twine she wore around her neck. She held the ring—his father’s signet ring—on her palm and raised it between them. “You are not so bad, right?”
She had kept the ring, all this time. And she was using his own words. Playing along. Their gazes locked, taking Achan to another time and place. He finished what he had told her the last time. “And I love you.”
She continued the exchange. “So it won’t be like marrying a man thrice my elder or one who only means to use me.”
“Nay.” He grinned, changing her former rejection to, “It would be better.”
Again her eyelashes fell to her cheeks, which were now flushed pink.