From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [37]
“I think not.”
“But we’re closer to the same rank, we are. And I can show you things our young prince hasn’t dreamed of.”
Vrell wanted to slap the leer off Kurtz face. She picked up her satchel and walked to the road. “Good day, Kurtz.”
“Aw, don’t be cross, Vrell. It was just an idea, it was.”
Sir Caleb remained on the road. He looked haggard, like a father whose son had not returned from war. He ran his hands through his shaggy blond hair. “How did you find him, Vrell? What are you even doing here? We thought you’d gone elsewhere. And forgive me, but that dress.” He looked her up and down. “Where did you get such a gown?”
Say it, she urged herself. Say, “I am Lady Averella Amal.” That would put Kurtz in his place. But words would not come. Instead, she curtsied and ran after the litter.
She stifled her tears. She would not allow herself to cry until she made it inside the castle. Now that the sun was up, she felt exposed. She stopped suddenly, remembering Kopay, and veered toward the stables. Where had she left her horse?
“My lady!”
Vrell spun around at Gren’s voice. The girl hastened toward her, her ample bosom bouncing, face pale and clammy. Vrell melted. Gren had done far too much this morning for a woman with child. She should rest.
Gren stopped before Vrell, chest heaving. “Where are they taking Achan? How will I know he’s well?”
“Word will spread through the servants. If not, you could ask Remy. He is Anillo’s assistant.”
“But,” Gren panted, “I can’t stand not knowing.”
“I told you, he should be fine.”
“Should be, you say.”
Vrell closed her eyes, angry that this peasant dared ask such a thing of a noblewoman, yet her anger was only pride. She no longer cared about classes. After all she had endured living as a stray. Bran was right. She hid behind her title as much as she had hid within the walls of Granton Castle.
Bran!
Vrell sat on the edge of a trough and closed her eyes.
“My lady?” Gren said.
“A moment, please.” Vrell reached for Bran.
The sun beat down, but the wind of flight on horseback blew his hair away from his face as he traveled down a dusty road behind Sir Rigil’s black courser. Grassy plains stretched out all around him. All was well. No fear clouded his thoughts. No concerns.
She opened her eyes, relieved that Bran, Jax, and Sir Rigil were safe. And Achan too.
Praise You, Arman. And thank You.
Vrell reached a hand to Gren. “Help me find and stable my horse, and I shall take you to Achan.”
Gren pulled Vrell up and released a shaky sob and a stream of tears. Vrell wished she could afford such transparency.
They found Kopay back in what was left of the stables. Nothing but a corral inside the stone walls. The roof and all the stalls were gone. At least the animals could not roam free. Griscol had started to gather saddles and tack on a cart outside the stables. Vrell found her pack there. She hoisted it over her shoulder and led Gren around to a servant’s entrance on the east side of the castle.
They followed the corridor that stretched along the north side of the courtyard. Vrell picked up a low-burning candle and ducked inside Mother’s receiving room in the north wing. She closed the door, thankful they had not run into anyone.
The dark room slowly took shape around them in the low light. Vrell left her pack here. She moved the candle to her right hand and reached for Gren with her left. “Take my hand.”
Gren’s hands clasped hers. “Where are we?”
“My mother’s receiving room. Trust me, please, and would you mind closing your eyes?”
“My eyes? Why?”
“If you want to see Achan… Mother would not like that I’ve brought you here. You must promise not to tell a soul what you see today. Do you?”
“Sure. Close my eyes now?”
“Please.” Vrell held the candle aloft so the light fell over Gren’s face. Her eyes were shut.