From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [7]
Two of the men hung their heads, but the third—Grigio, the man with the angry eyes and unforgiving mail gloves— looked up, face flushed. Achan had no way of knowing if he were embarrassed, angry, surprised, or merely fatigued.
“What is your name?” Achan asked.
The man stood. “Grigio Franc, Your Highness.”
Shung’s six foot plus inched closer to Achan, causing Grigio to shrink a bit.
“Master Franc,” Achan said. “You are loyal to your comrade, Bran. This is a deeply admirable trait. But have you bothered to ask his side of this … situation with Lady Averella?”
“I don’t need to ask. I can see it on his face.” Grigio glanced at Shung and added, “Your Highness.”
Achan paused, curious whether Bran’s broken engagement hadn’t been as amicable as Duchess Amal had claimed. “Nevertheless, you should speak to Master Rennan before risking your life for his honor. While that in itself is an admirable way to perish, it is a foolish sacrifice when done under mistaken assumptions. Don’t you agree?”
“I…” Grigio’s brows wrinkled. “Perhaps.”
Achan nodded. “Good enough.” He walked away from the benches and the practice field, forcing himself not to limp on his sore leg. Shung tromped at his side.
You will not punish us? Grigio asked.
Achan turned back and met Grigio’s wide eyes. Should I? You’re a worthy fighter, Master Franc, and fiercely loyal. Killing you would not help me take Armonguard. And I need such hearts as yours at my side. So I give you another chance to correct your misjudgment of me before I cast my final judgment upon you.
Once Achan had cleaned up and changed, he and Shung went to lunch in the great hall. They arrived early for the scheduled meal, but Achan preferred it that way. He’d done his duty by confronting the men on the practice field, so he figured he’d earned a reprieve from making small talk with Duchess Amal’s daughters and various other minor nobles.
Shung, as usual, stood against the wall behind Achan, staring ahead like a sentry guard.
Blazes.
“Sit with me, Shung. Surely no one here plans to threaten my life.”
“Soldiers on field had motives Shung did not see.”
“Don’t punish yourself. You are Sir Shung, now. The brave knight who rescued the Crown Prince from a cham bear.” Achan had knighted his friend their second day in Carmine. Shung was the first man he’d ever knighted.
“Shung did not slay the beast.”
“You slowed it down and have the burn to prove it. And now the title too.” Which would make Shung worthy to marry Lady Gali, should the man get up the courage to ask. “Now sit and eat with me.”
“Forgiveness, Little Cham, but Shung must do his duty.”
Achan slouched down in the chair and looked out over the elaborate great hall. They each had a duty, didn’t they? And Achan’s duty was to be king. King of all Er’Rets. If they won this inevitable war.
Sparrow had always sat with him for breakfast.
Sparrow.
With his bloodvoice, he found her instantly, sensed thick walls around her mind. He wanted to speak, but she’d been ignoring his messages ever since she left Mitspah. Likely still angry over his blunder the last time they’d spoken.
He tried and failed to look through her eyes. He could break into almost any mind with his bloodvoicing power. But not Sparrow’s. Hers had always been impenetrable. He sighed. What good would any of this do? Pining away for Sparrow would not loosen the sleeve tied to his arm.
She had made her choice, and so had he.
Achan turned his chair sideways so he could talk to Shung as he ate. “I can think of no engagements set for this afternoon, can you?”
Shung tipped his head, and the circle of carved bone he always wore in his ear rocked. “I cannot.”
Finally, some time to himself. One of his advisors would find him soon enough, make him study or drag him into another meeting. But if he could get out now, he might fill part of this day with his own will.
“We shall go to visit Gren and her family,” Achan said, pleased with the idea. Months had passed