From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [8]
Shung grunted.
For the next fifteen minutes, Achan ate his fill, and then he pushed his plate away. “I’m ready but will not leave this chair until you eat, Shung.”
“Shung cannot shield when eating.”
Achan switched strategies. “But a warrior must eat. At least carry some grapes with you as we walk.”
The Shield shook his head. “Shung cannot wield sword with handful of grapes.”
Achan blew out a long breath and stood. “Very well. I suppose you can eat at the Fenny home, though they are peasants and likely have little food to spare.”
Shung looked over Achan’s head, scanning the near deserted great hall, then stepped toward the table and reached for a hard-cooked egg. His sleeve rode up his arm, and Achan caught sight of the scarred skin between sleeve and glove. A cham had breathed fire on Shung’s arm. “Will eat this.”
“Good enough.”
After Shung ate the egg, Achan led him across the great hall to the foyer. His body ached with every movement, sore from his injuries and his exercise on the practice field.
“Good day, Your Highness.”
To Achan’s left Lady Nitsa Amal, the Duchess of Carm, stood at the foot of the brownstone staircase, her auburn hair sculpted up under a ruby-beaded caul. She wore a blood-red gown trimmed in black and gold embroidery. Her skin was ivory porcelain in the dim light.
He bowed. “Good day, my lady. Has your daughter returned yet?”
She fixed her moss-colored eyes on Achan. “She has not, Your Highness. You are not joining us for lunch?”
“I just finished. I planned to explore the grounds a bit, if you don’t mind.”
The duchess’s small mouth curved into a smile. “Not at all. I shall not keep you from your schedule.”
Achan bowed. “Thank you, my lady. Enjoy your meal.”
“I am sure I will, Your Highness.”
Achan and Shung exited Granton Castle. The sunny afternoon, chirping birds, and his destination made his burdens lighter. The blended smells of fresh-cut wood, dung, animals, and flowers tickled his nose.
“You ask Duchess Amal same question whenever you see her,” Shung said.
Achan shot Shung a quick smile. “I want to meet Lady Averella if I’m to marry her. Is that so shocking?”
Shung grunted. “Duchess will tire of you.”
“Good. Perhaps her fatigue will encourage her to draw Lady Averella out long enough to shake my hand.” Achan couldn’t stand not knowing what this woman looked like. He wasn’t about to give up his quest to find out.
They passed through the gate to the outer bailey and into a throng of peasants, soldiers, and every sort of barn animal imaginable. Disdain from those around him flooded his senses. Achan met one soldier’s frowning gaze and staggered at the hatred pouring from the man. He considered reading the man’s thoughts, but Shung tugged his arm, pulling him aside. He narrowly missed treading on a boy carrying a basket of berries.
“Pardon, my lord.” The boy bowed and scurried past as if Achan might beat him for being in the way.
Achan couldn’t blame him. He’d been cuffed upside the head for the same many times in his youth.
They wove through the outer bailey. Disapproval continued to seep into Achan. He caught sight of two middle-aged women carrying buckets of water, scowling and whispering between themselves. Achan looked into the mind of the one whose eyes he met first and the words she whispered to her counterpart filled his head.
…has no right to come here and take over. I don’t care if he’s rightful king or not.
And when you consider— Her friend gasped. Gods, no. Look who it is. There’ll be a fight now, Kera, just you wait. Who you think’ll win?
Achan turned to where the women had focused their attention. A squadron of Carmine soldiers drew near, accompanied by more feelings of animosity. Perhaps Grigio Franc was among them.
A set of familiar eyes met Achan’s from within the squadron. Bran Rennan. The squire left the formation, and the soldiers halted. One man glanced at the sleeve on Achan’s arm but seemed content to wait and watch.
Achan’s own feelings of anger and distrust mingled with those around him, not certain how