From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [38]
Gren smiled, and Vrell pulled her slowly across the room to the painting of her mother. Her fingers found the latch on the upper left side of the frame. She pulled until it clicked and the painting bounced out from the wall.
“Only a moment longer.” Vrell helped Gren inside the passageway and pulled the painting closed behind them. “All right. You may open your eyes.”
Gren studied the corridor. “Where are we?”
“In one of the secret passageways in Granton Castle.”
“There are secret passageways?”
“Yes. But you must be absolutely silent, or we will be discovered.”
“I can keep quiet.”
“Good. Follow me.”
Vrell led Gren all the way to the peephole that looked in on Achan’s chambers. She glanced inside and saw that the men had already put Achan in his bed. Sir Eagan was smearing something on his head. Yarrow salve, likely. Shung stood behind Sir Eagan. A young boy stood at Shung’s side.
“Is he dead, sir?” the boy asked.
“Sleeping.”
“Will he sleep forever?”
“No, Matthias,” Sir Eagan said. “He will wake when he is ready, once his body is rested.”
Vrell stepped back from the peephole, motioned for Gren to look, then reached up and felt for the stone ledge she often used for her candle. When her fingers found it, she set the candle down and leaned against the opposite wall.
“Is he well?” Sir Caleb’s voice carried through the wall.
“He should recover fully,” Sir Eagan said, “though we must make sure that he wakes every few hours.”
“He went out there to spite me,” Sir Caleb said. “If I had acquiesced, Sir Shung would have been with—”
“He is old enough to make his own choices, Caleb,” Sir Eagan said.
“But that’s just it. He makes the wrong ones. Continually. How can I stand by and let him kill himself?”
“He will not learn to make the right decisions if he is coddled.”
“I don’t mean to coddle him, but… why does he insist on his way? He is so willful.”
“He is merely trying to be a leader, I suspect.”
“It would have been better for him to disobey me outright and take Shung along. But he sneaks off alone.” Footsteps tapped over wood and echoed along the stone wall of the corridor. “I don’t know how to control him.”
“You cannot control him, Caleb. Nor should you. He needs to know that we believe in him. We must advise him, build up his confidence, not command him.”
“I never intend to command him, but I’ve seen too many hurt. Killed. It’s a cruel and brutal world. My fears are well founded.”
“That they are,” Sir Eagan said, “but your fears will not give him the insight of experience. He must learn that for himself. I daresay the headache he will wake with will teach him a strong lesson in heeding your advice in the future.”
“But he didn’t learn from the cham attack.” More footsteps. “Why is Vrell here? I thought you said she was going to Allowntown.”
Vrell nudged Gren away from the peephole and looked inside.
Sir Eagan put the lid on a jar. “I never said I knew where she was going.”
“Someone said it. Perhaps Gavin. I don’t understand why she’s here. And dressed so well. You spoke with her. What did she say?”
“Only to give me her assessment of the prince’s injury.”
“Should we be concerned about her? It’s good she left, don’t you think? I don’t want her becoming a distraction now that the prince is betrothed to Lady Averella.”
Sir Eagan turned away from Sir Caleb, faced the peephole, and winked. “Ah, Caleb. I would not worry about Vrell Sparrow. Arman will work through her thick skull in his timing. All will be well.”
Vrell pursed her lips. Sir Eagan knew of the secret passages as well? If Mother continued to tell people, they would no longer be a secret.
Sir Eagan drew a blanket over Achan’s waist and walked to the doors. “We must let the prince sleep. At least two hours.” He winked in Vrell’s direction again. “Sir Shung, stand outside and let no one enter. Come Caleb, let us take this discussion