From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [36]
Achan’s eyes shot open and he sucked in a loud, croaking breath that morphed into a yell. He panted and yelled again, sucking short breaths between his teeth. “What!” He gasped. “My head. Ahh!”
Vrell leaned over him, catching his gaze, thrilled to see him awake. “Shh. All will be well.”
Achan’s eyebrows sunk low over his eyes. “Sparrow? Sparrow, are you here?” He gripped her arm. “Am I dream…” His eyes fell closed then flashed open again. He lifted his head and groaned, his gaze roaming over her. “A dress, Sparrow? You look lovely. I miss you.”
Vrell’s cheeks flamed. “Shh. Be still.”
His eyes widened as his gaze flitted over her. “You’re… bleeding?” His head thumped to the grass. Unconscious.
Vrell sighed, pushing back her emotions. Dried blood was smeared on her skirt, hands, and sleeves. Probably her face as well. She sent a knock to Sir Caleb. Vrell Sparrow.
Vrell? How have you been? Are you—?
Achan is hurt. In the southwestern vineyard, about eighteen rows west of the eastern gate, six paces in. Bring something to carry him on.
Right away.
Vrell unlaced Achan’s surcoat. His necklace caught her attention. A cham’s claw as long as her index finger hung from a cord of braided leather and red twine. She fingered the cord. The twine had been hers. She had used it to decorate the jar of rue juice she had left to help Achan with his fleas. Her chest tightened.
She could not deny her feelings for this man.
She squeezed the cham’s claw in her fist. “Oh… I’m such a fool,” she whispered. “What do I do? What do I—?”
Vrell?
She jumped at Sir Caleb’s voice in her head and dropped Achan’s necklace.
We are not far, Sir Caleb said. How is he?
She smoothed Achan’s fly-away hair. He is asleep, Sir Caleb. He was struck in the head. A mace.
Blazes. That boy.
Gren crept up beside Vrell. “Is he… ?”
“He should be fine.”
Gren knelt at Vrell’s side, perusing Achan’s body with a doe-eyed stare. “When will you two marry?”
Vrell’s gaze left Achan’s face and settled on the burgundy sleeve tied to his left arm. Her sleeve. Gren would have heard that Achan was betrothed to Lady Averella Amal. All of Carmine knew. “I know not.”
“But you said he’d be fine.”
“He will be. But no date has been set…” She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his limp hand. It was sweaty and cold. The words of a song flitted to her mind. The song Yumikak had sung to Achan and Vrell in Berland.
View not my face, I am undone beside you
The beating of my heart will not cease
Whilst I am near you, whilst I am near you
Tears flooded Vrell’s eyes. She blinked them back to no avail. The sun had risen now, bathing the vines and grapes in a golden glow and warming her face.
Arman, what do I do? What can I do?
Footsteps crunched over leaves. Sir Eagan, Sir Caleb, Shung, Kurtz, and two servants bounded down the row. One of the servants carried two poles wrapped in canvas over his shoulder. A healer’s litter. Vrell dropped Achan’s hand and backed away, pulling Gren with her.
Sir Eagan, her father, nodded to Vrell. A calm warmth wrapped around her. Sir Eagan’s bloodvoicing specialty, no doubt.
The servant dropped the litter beside Achan’s body and unrolled it. Shung and Sir Eagan crouched by his head. The servants crouched on either side of his legs.
“On three,” Sir Eagan said. “One, two, three.”
The men lifted Achan off the ground and set him on the litter. He groaned but did not wake. Shung walked back out of the row, as if to clear the path. The servants hoisted the litter and carried Achan away.
“I shall care for him now.”
Sir Eagan’s voice tore Vrell’s gaze from Achan’s body. She met his piercing blue eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”
Sir Eagan held her gaze a moment, which only added more weight to the pressure in her chest. Then he walked away, following the men carrying the litter.
“Well now, Vrell Sparrow. You look fetching, you do, even covered in blood.” Kurtz stood before her, brown eyes grazing her as