From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [211]
“He’s new,” Achan said. “He’s replacing Cortland until his legs are healed.”
“How is Cortland?” Averella asked.
“Grateful to you. Sir Caleb totes him around in a cart until his legs heal.” Achan glanced at the stool where Gypsum was sitting again.
Syrah stood just behind her, peering over her shoulder at the swiftly growing work of art.
“Gypsum?” Averella asked. “Might you and Syrah run to the kitchen and inquire if Master Poril could make strawberry tarts for dinner?”
“I assure you, he is more than able,” Achan said. “Now that I have made him master of the kitchens, he is outdoing himself to show I didn’t make a mistake. There is plenty of gingercake to be had.”
But Gypsum simply took another stitch and said, “Syrah does not need my company to complete that task. Go ahead, Syrah.”
Syrah curtsied and left the room.
“Gypsum?” Averella said, hinting as best she could with the tone of her voice.
Gypsum tugged her needle. It scraped through the fabric until the stitch was snug. “Yes?”
“Might you give us a moment alone?”
Gypsum glanced at Averella. “You know I cannot.”
“Gypsum…”
“It is my duty to act as your chaperone, as no other female is present.”
Achan chuckled. “To think of how many times we shared a slab of dirt before a campfire without a chaperone, huh, Sparrow? And a few chambers too.”
Averella blushed and shot a scowl his way. Do you want a moment alone or not?
What? He grinned innocently. It’s the truth.
Gypsum made a short hum of disapproval. “Only because my sister was lying to you, Your Highness. Had you known the truth, that never would have happened.”
Averella closed her eyes a moment. Only Gypsum would have the gall to scold her in front of the Crown Prince.
Achan cleared his throat. “Would you object, Lady Gypsum, if Lady Averella and I stepped onto the balcony alone?”
Gypsum lifted her chin. “Only if you are there too long.”
“We shall be quick about it, then, for your sake.” Achan took Averella’s hand and tugged her through the organza curtains. The outside warmth clapped onto her skin. The glorious sun hung high overhead, proclaiming victory over Darkness. Averella’s balcony looked southwest over the vast blueness of Lake Arman. Two high lounge chairs were all that furnished the balcony.
Achan helped Averella sit on one of the chairs, then sat on the edge, facing her. “Are you well?”
The full weight of Achan’s blue eyes made her stomach dance. “Very.”
His eyebrows puckered. “You are not angry with me?”
“Whatever for?”
His mouth opened, closed, opened. “I… Bran?”
“Oh, Achan. That was not your fault. You do not blame yourself, do you?”
“Well, yes, actually. And that I have caused you pain.”
“Rest assured. Of course I will miss Bran greatly. He was a dear friend. But he is with Arman now, and we both know how lovely that is.”
Achan glanced down and took her hand. “Yes.” He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “I toured the castle.”
“Have you?”
“Aye. The king’s chambers has a balcony three times the size of this one and stained glass doors rather than curtains.”
“It sounds lovely.”
His voice lowered. “I want to share it with you.”
Share it? She cocked her head to the side and forced a serious expression. “Share a balcony and glass doors?”
“The entire chamber. If you’ll marry me.” He slipped his half of their coin into her hand. “Prince Oren said my parents had separate chambers. But I don’t want to be separated from you ever again. Live with me?”
She could not help but smile at the way his brow wrinkled as he awaited her answer. As if he really didn’t know what her answer would be. “But, Achan, that’s not how things are done. Nobles always have their own bedchamber.”
“So? This castle is too big for a home. Let’s take up residence in only one room, like Trajen and Ressa. You can have as many rooms as you want for your gowns and changing and a solar. Have a room for every shoe and piece of jewelry if you want. Only…” he cupped her face in his hands, leaned in,