From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [43]
Achan rubbed his eyes. The pain in his head was now accompanied by an ache in his chest. He hadn’t meant to berate Sir Caleb, especially in front of Matthias. He should have held his ground in the first place and demanded to go to the battle. It would take time to prove to Sir Caleb that Achan wasn’t completely hopeless as a leader, but he could never prove anything without a chance to try.
He felt trapped in his bed and desperately wanted to sit. He turned his head and met Shung’s gaze. The Shield sat on a chair in the dark corner, shadowed in his black clothes.
“Why, hello, Shung. Nice of you to announce yourself.”
His Shield raised one eyebrow. “Shung was sleeping until Sir Caleb spoke. The lion’s voice haunts my dreams.”
At least Achan wasn’t the only one under Sir Caleb’s careful eye, though he felt even more embarrassed knowing that Shung had also overheard his lecture. “He means well.”
Shung leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands. One of his thick braids fell over his shoulder and dangled with the charmice tails that decorated his jerkin. “Still, the lion needed taming, even if the little cham is a willful cub.”
“I’m sorry I left you, Shung. Next time I will fight for my choice instead of sneaking off.”
Shung’s smile caused his cheeks to ball above his hairy sideburns. “Shung saw Little Fox.”
“Sparrow?” Achan’s pulse rose at the idea of her in this room, holding his hand. “She was really here?”
“Aye. Shung sees now why you named her fox.”
“I named her? I thought you named her as you do everyone else.”
“No. When Little Cham came to Berland, said, ‘That one is fox.’”
Achan tried to remember when he first considered Sparrow a fox. It could have been the time he caught her bloodvoicing her supposedly dead mother. Or even earlier, like the day she’d read Gren’s letter.
Aye, Sparrow deserved her title. Deceiving him seemed to be her favorite game.
But she was here, in Carmine. She’d been inside the castle— inside his chambers! “Who let her in?”
“Shung did. She came with the fawn yesterday.”
“I am an injured man, Shung. Have mercy on my head and speak plainly.”
“The widow works in the kitchens, sir.” Matthias still stood at his bedside. “Jespa calls her Gren.”
Achan balked. Sparrow and Gren had come to visit him? Together? What madness was this?
A knock sounded on the door. Shung answered it.
Could it be Sparrow and Gren again?
No, only Anillo. He walked to the foot of Achan’s bed and bowed. “Your Highness, Duchess Amal would like to pay you a visit. Would now be an appropriate time?”
Now? Achan wasn’t even dressed. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, holding his breath at the ache in his head.
Shung’s boots clomped across the wooden floor. “Little Cham should stay down.” He pushed on Achan’s shoulder, agitating the place where the cham had put its teeth.
“No.” Achan met Shung’s scowl. “I need a shirt.”
Matthias was already padding toward the bed, shaking out a long green tunic. “It’s not pressed, sir.”
“It’s fine,” Achan said as Shung helped him sit. “Anillo, give us a moment?”
Anillo bowed. “Of course, Your Highness. But there is no need to hurry. We can return later.”
“No, no. I just need a moment.”
Matthias slipped up to the bedside. The boy had already gathered the tunic in his hands just as Sir Caleb had done for Achan ever since the cham attack. Matthias threaded the sleeve over Achan’s right hand and slid it gently up his injured shoulder. “Tip your head, sir.”
Achan leaned his right ear toward Matthias, who pulled the tunic over his head in such a way so the fabric didn’t touch his head wound. Achan shoved his left arm through. Matthias laced the shirt and padded away.
“All right, Anillo.” Achan sucked in a short breath. He tucked the long hem under the blanket. “I’m ready.”
“Wait!” Matthias ran across the room with a comb and