From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [210]
“I see wisdom in your choice, Nephew,” Prince Oren said. “But since you know your bride already, I suggest you speak to her about this so she is not surprised when her maid tells her where her belongings were taken.”
Achan clarified Prince Oren’s wording. “Her maid?”
“Syrah came with one of Lady Averella’s trunks,” Sir Eagan said. “Duchess Amal tells me the other trunks and servants will come in the next few weeks.”
A maid and a trunk arriving with more on the way seemed a good sign of Sparrow’s intentions, but all this had happened before Bran’s death. Achan had never seen a woman faint over such news, until Sparrow.
“If we’ve a wedding to plan, it should come before the coronation,” Sir Caleb said. “No sense in crowning you king, marrying you off, then having a third ceremony to crown your queen. Unless you’d prefer it that way.”
“What is my other option?”
“To be married, and then crown both of you together.”
“I think the people would like that,” Prince Oren said. “What say you, Nephew?”
The mere thought relaxed Achan. That he might not have to suffer the coronation alone. “If Lady Averella will have me, I’d very much like us to be crowned together.”
“Then we must determine whether or not Lady Averella will have you, once and for all,” Sir Caleb said.
Achan took a deep breath. “I shall ask her at once.”
40
“Sit down, Vrella, you are making me dizzy.”
Averella sat on the stool beside Gypsum and picked up her embroidery. Though Gypsum was busy on her project, Averella did not touch her own. She stared at the balcony. The heavy curtains were pulled back, but the organza ones were drawn, the wind billowing them into the room every so often. “What is taking him so long, do you think?”
“Likely walking across this beast of a castle.” Gypsum twisted her lips and took a stitch. “Be thankful his boy came first so Syrah had time to make you presentable.”
“My presentation has never bothered Achan before.”
Gypsum rolled her eyes. “Calm down, then. It is not like you have never seen this man.”
“Stop lecturing me. You do not know how I—”
“My lady?” Syrah stepped inside and curtsied. “Prince Gidon has arrived. Will you see him?”
Averella and Gypsum both stood. Averella waved her hand at Syrah. “Of course. Send him in right away.”
Syrah departed and returned a moment later. “His Royal Highness, Prince Gidon Hadar.”
Averella brushed away the creases in her skirt and straightened her posture. Sir Shung entered first, followed by another guardsman, then Achan, walking as stiffly as a scarecrow. Two more guardsmen followed him.
Merciful heart. They made a commanding entrance.
Averella and Gypsum curtsied together. Averella had not seen Achan so clean and fashionable since their dinner in Mirrorstone three months past. He wore a red satin doublet, black trousers, and a golden cape. His short hair was combed neatly and his scruff of a beard was trimmed.
Achan’s eyes—clear blue and bright—met hers, and he seemed to relax some. He bowed swiftly. “Lady Averella, Lady Gypsum, thank you for allowing this visit.”
“As if you need permission to visit me, Your Highness,” Averella said.
“Oh, but I do. I thought once I made it here to Armonguard, I’d be free to roam a bit. Alas, I still need permission to visit the privy.”
Gypsum giggled, which seemed to cause Achan to grimace. “Forgive me. That was crude.” His voice whispered in Averella’s mind. How I wish we could meet elsewhere, Sparrow. I’ve never been suited for such decorum. I always say something foolish.
You are doing fine. She motioned to the wicker chair. “Would you care to sit?”
Achan stepped toward the chair, then stopped. “No.” His hands formed fists at his sides. He glanced at Sir Shung. “Might Lady Averella and I have a moment of privacy?”
Shung stomped his foot and nodded.
“But we aren’t to leave him unchaperoned,” one of the other guards said to Sir Shung.
“Shung will guard with his mind.” Sir Shung gripped