From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [98]
Averella stiffened at the words. It was the song Master Cham had sung at the Pearly Gate. “Regardless, until my memory returns, I must do what is best for my reputation, which is to return to Carmine. According to Lady Fallina, I have disgraced myself.”
“But what of Achan?” Gren asked.
Averella could not imagine loving anyone but Bran. “You say that Master Cham does not know that I am me.” She shrugged. “Let things be. If at some point he courts me the proper way, perhaps our relationship will… change.”
“But you want to serve Prince Oren’s army as a healer. You can’t do that from Carmine.”
“Gren, I know a great deal about plants, but not enough to be a healer. And an army is no place for a lady.”
Gren frowned as if Averella was a child who misunderstood her. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but you simply don’t remember. Just last week you set a broken arm, removed arrows, bandaged severe cuts. I was amazed at your skill. To be a healer in the war—this is what you wanted.”
“Well, I want it no longer. We should set off for Carmine as soon as possible.”
“No!” Gren jumped up. “I must go to Armonguard. Noam and Harnu agreed to see me safely there.”
“And why must you go to Armonguard?”
Gren’s cheeks flushed. “In light of the circumstances with your memory, my lady, I’d rather not say.”
“Do not be difficult. Tell me the truth.”
Gren swallowed. “I wish to be near Master Rennan once the war is ended.”
“Bran Rennan?” Averella struggled to keep the emotion from her voice, but she recalled Gren telling Harnu about this. She glanced at Gren’s stomach, recalling also that the girl was with child. “I am trying to be patient…” She took a deep breath and her voice quavered. “But in my mind, Master Rennan is betrothed to me.”
Gren patted her hand. “You were away so long. Both of you… changed. Your parting was mutual.”
Mutual? Averella could not imagine such a thing. “Did not Harnu’s father say Achan once loved you?”
“He did.”
“So we have exchanged suitors?”
“I suppose we have.”
Averella rubbed her temples. “This discussion wearies me. Please go. I must attempt to bloodvoice my mother. She will advise me on what is best.”
Tears pooled in Gren’s eyes. “Very well, my lady. I’ll go.” She curtsied and left the room.
Remorse welled up inside Averella. She had not meant to be rude, but Gren was a peasant. Society dictated that Averella’s conversations with Gren were already far too personal. They both needed to remember their place. And she was Lady Averella Amal, heir to Carm, not Vrell Sparrow, some ridiculous stray girl in hiding.
She concentrated on her mother’s face, uncertain how she knew bloodvoicing was done this way. Mother? Can you hear me? This is Averella. I am attempting to message you by means of bloodvoicing, though I feel slightly mad to even attempt it. How does one know if they have succeeded in making contact or are merely talking to themselves?
Averella! Praise Arman you are back!
Tears stung Averella’s eyes. Mother! What a relief to finally speak with you. Yet praise is debatable.
What do you mean? Have you returned to your body?
I have, though it seems that part of my memory is gone.
Mother’s voice softened. How much have you forgotten?
How could one know what one has forgotten, Mother? Last I recall it was early winter. Master Rennan and I had approached you about our engagement.
Oh, dearest! That was over a year ago! So much has happened since then.
Averella sighed. So people have been telling me. Is it true? Have Master Rennan and I broken our engagement?
I am afraid so.
The words caused Averella’s heart to crack. And I am in love with this mystery prince? And he whom we both believed to be Prince Gidon was an imposter all these years? How could any of this have possibly come to pass?
Mother explained what she knew of the past year, but Averella could scarcely believe it, for it sounded like a long tale penned by a minstrel. She did not realize she had been weeping until her nose dripped liquid onto her lap.
She sniffled and looked for a handkerchief.