From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [213]
The boy squirmed in his bed a bit and rolled over.
Achan fought against his smile. Shung, however did you and the knights keep a straight face when you woke me?
A warrior does not smile for this part of the ceremony.
I guess you have more self-control than I do.
You are realizing this only now?
Achan smirked at Shung. How will you wake him now, O wise one? For he has turned his back to you.
Shung poked Cole in the back with the end of his torch.
Cole, wearing nothing but undershorts, shot up to sitting. He had been rail thin when Achan had first met him, but he had meat on his bones now, and muscle too. He held his hand between his eyes and Achan’s torch, wincing in the light. His voice came raspy. “You need a horse, Highness?”
Achan mustered as deep and manly a voice as he could. “Cole Tanniyn, do you wish to enter into the bonds of manhood?”
Cole yawned so long he groaned. “Bonds of what?”
Achan frowned. He’d practiced that line over and over until it sounded official and exciting. He should have known Cole would be confused. Simple was best with Cole. Achan tried again. “Want to know what it takes to become a man?”
Cole’s eyes flashed as white as chicken eggs. He pushed onto his knees and glanced from Achan to each of the other men, then back to Achan. “Yes, Your Highness, I do. Will you tell me what I need to know?”
“Get dressed and come with us, and we’ll tell you.”
One might have thought the castle was under attack, as fast as Cole dressed. When he was ready, Shung held open the door. Toros and Kurtz went through, then Cole. Achan started toward it but caught sight of a set of eyes watching him from the other side of the small room.
Matthias.
Achan winked at the boy. “Someday, Matthias, you’ll get your turn.”
Matthias grinned.
The next morning was a day for visiting old friends. Achan found Poril in the kitchens. The old man wept and begged forgiveness, but that hadn’t been Achan’s reason for the visit. He wanted to start over with Poril, and to make sure that Poril understood he was not to beat whatever lad served him in the kitchens. By the time Achan left, Poril had fed him all the gingercake he could eat.
Next, Achan and his guardsmen exited the western arc of the keep, headed for the stables. Achan had not seen Noam since that day in Noiz when he had lost his temper with Sparrow. He also needed to make time to speak with Gren. He hated to summon any of them, but he might have to resort to that with Gren. The knights gave him so little free time these days, he might never get a chance to see her before his wedding. He hated to only bloodvoice her.
A flash of heat passed over him at the very thought. He was going to be married. To Sparrow. He would praise Arman for the rest of his days for the way it had all worked out.
They stepped inside the stables. Achan had passed outside them on his tour with Prince Oren but had not come in. The structure was three times the size of the Sitna stables. He sensed hundreds of animals inside. A few chickens roamed the dirt floor. And one piglet, which made Achan think about Mox, the scrawny barn boy who’d been there the day Sir Gavin had first spoken to Achan.
He peeked down the first row of stalls, which seemed to house only pigs. Where were the horses, then? “Noam? You in here?”
Footsteps plodded over dirt, nearing, as if someone were running his way. Achan’s guards stepped around him.
And then Gren appeared, cheeks pinked, looking pale in her black mourning gown that seemed a little too tight over the belly. She also looked to have gained some weight in her cheeks. “Achan!” she squealed. Her eyes darted to Achan’s guards, as if she didn’t know what to make of them. He would see her now as well. Perfect.
“It’s only Gren,” Achan said. “Sir Shung, meet Gren.”
Shung grunted and the guards fell back. Shung nodded to Gren. “Pleased to know you.”
“Sir Shung is my Shield and friend,” Achan said.
Gren lunged up and hugged Shung. “Oh, thank you for keeping him safe, sir!”
Shung’s arms remained stiff at his sides.