From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [23]
Likely Sir Caleb come to fetch his headstrong prince. Achan stopped, listening for the big man’s footsteps. He squatted and looked toward the castle. Sure enough, a dozen or more sets of black boots charged into the vineyard near the trapdoor, which was now rows down from his position.
Achan spun slowly on his toes and met a set of thick legs. The man in black armor stood over him, swinging a mace above his head. Achan popped to his feet and reeled backwards. He tried to draw Ôwr, but stumbled. The man sent his mace flying.
Achan ducked, yet the mace struck his helm on the left side, just above his ear. Pain exploded in his head. He hit the ground on his back, nauseated. Trying to get up, he bumped against a trellis. Sick. Dizzy. Unable to sit. Death was coming. Yet… Where had the man gone?
Achan rolled to his back. The sky spun above him. Strange to see it from below now. He sucked air through his nose so he wouldn’t vomit.
His vision blurred. He should bloodvoice someone. Tell them of Lady Gypsum. Hot pain swelled over him like a wave in the delta. He held his breath. Was he burning? He reached up to feel the fire, but his hand did not move.
He finally released a long breath. The pain overtook him, darkening his vision like a door closing out all light.
P A R T 2
VRELL
4
“Are you sure it’s wise, m’lady?”
“What are you so worried about, Syrah?” Vrell brushed past her maidservant and turned to the door to the receiving room, squeezing her hands together. The room, wallpapered in elegant paintings, held only a sideboard, four chairs, and a short table. She hoped Jax would be comfortable, despite the diminutive nature of the chairs. “There is nothing clandestine about receiving an honorable soldier when a chaperone is present.”
“I’m hardly a reputable chaperone, m’lady. I doubt the duchess would approve.”
“My mother will not find out, Syrah, because you will not tell her.”
Syrah curtsied. “Yes’m.”
Vrell sighed, frustrated she had spoken to Syrah so. “Forgive my tone, dearest. My daily dance on a pincushion is making me behave badly. But without this opportunity, I do not know what I shall—”
A knock rattled the door. Vrell smoothed her skirt and straightened, aggravating the wound in her side. She held her breath against the pain, weighing whether or not she could handle such a posture for the entire conversation.
What was she thinking? This was Jax, her friend. She nodded at Syrah and slouched, instantly relieving her side.
Syrah opened the door to Jax mi Katt, a giant man who stood over seven feet tall. He ducked inside, and his long braids swung out before him. As always, he wore a red scarf over his head like a marauder. A bushy beard covered his face. Even indoors he wore daggers and axes strapped to his legs in leather sheaths.
Jax’s large brown eyes settled on Vrell, and a rangy smile parted his beard. “Hello there.”
Vrell beamed at her old friend until Sir Rigil entered behind him. What was this? Why bring Sir Rigil along?
Sir Rigil, a knight in his early thirties, looked small next to Jax. He wore blue and black, the colors of Zerah Rock, his home town. His hair was blond and cut short, except for the top, which swooped back in a lazy wave over his head. His short sideburns and beard were red.
Until Achan’s true heritage became known, Sir Rigil had been the most eligible bachelor in all Er’Rets. Years ago, Vrell had mistaken Sir Rigil’s chivalry for romantic interest. But over time he had become like an older brother. And now, being Sir Eagan’s half-brother, she realized he was her half-uncle.
All this was unbeknownst to him, of course, as Sir Eagan had not publicly claimed Vrell as his child.
Jax laid a hand on Vrell’s shoulder heavily.
She hugged his waist. “I’ve missed you, Jax.”
“Well, bless my belt! Lady Averella home at last.” Sir Rigil took both Vrell’s hands and squeezed. “I’ve asked your mother about you time and again, but she would not—”
“Sir Rigil, Jax. Please, sit.” Vrell motioned to the chairs. “Are you thirsty? Syrah, offer the men