Esek's blue eyes met hers. "Really, my dear, am I so revolting you would sink to this level just to avoid me?"
"Just kill me," Vrell said, though she did not want him to.
He slid his bejeweled fingers over his short, black beard. "But you are to be my bride. I marry you to keep tabs on the north. And I'm quite fond of grapes."
Vrell tried to spit at Esek, but her saliva dribbled down her chin. Her face flamed. How did men always spit so far?
"Ug!" Esek shrank back. "The things I do for this land. I recall having seen you quite fetching, my lady. Do tell me you have not forgotten how to wear a dress?"
"I will die before I marry you."
"Yes, well, I cannot allow that. But you are welcome to death anytime after the wedding."
"You honestly think Carm would fight for you if you took me without my or my mother's consent?"
"I care not. Frankly, I've no time to chat, my dear. I am at war with Mitspah. My men are weakening the stronghold as we speak. Get yourself presentable and you may bid me farewell." He turned and strode from the pavilion.
Vrell seethed. "I care not whether you leave!" She focused her gaze on Khai and Atul. "What do you want?"
"You're to wear this." Atul skirted the bed and walked to the changing screen. "I took it from Lady Rubel's closet."
Vrell snorted a laugh. "If you think for a moment that Lady Rubel's gown will fit me, you are blind."
Atul draped the gown over the bed. The beaded bodice and skirt sparkled in the firelight. Khai stepped forward and drew a dagger from a leg sheath. Vrell drew back.
"I'm to cut your bindings, my lady."
"Oh." No sense arguing there. Vrell held out her wrists.
Khai sawed through the hemp. "The tent is surrounded. Do not bother trying to escape. I will return in five minutes, my lady. If you are not dressed, I will do it myself."
*
Vrell felt ridiculous in such a gown. It was as fine as many of her own, but the fit mocked her insufficiencies. As promised, Khai returned and escorted her from the tent.
Esek's camp was in a clearing beside a dirt road. Torch posts held lanterns and torches, filling the air with the smell of pitch. New Kingsguard soldiers scurried around, armor jangling beneath their black capes. There appeared to be at least fifty armed men here, though it was difficult to count with so many tents. Horses whinnied and snorted. Khai led her past a tent where men were laughing around a game of dice.
The smell of horses reached her before she saw Esek in the gloom. He stood with Sir Kenton and Chora beside his ebony courser. In the torchlight she could see that the animal was draped in red banners embroidered with the crest of Armonguard.
She scowled. Armonguard's crest should appear on a purple background, not red. She reached out for Achan and sent a knock. No answer.
"Ah, a vast improvement." Esek twirled his finger in the air. "Turn around. Let's see."
The audacity of this man, barking orders as if she were his property. She folded her arms and stared him down.
A sharp point pricked her back. Stale breath blew hot in her ear. "Obey your king, my lady."
Vrell darted around to see Khai holding his dagger out.
He waved it forward. "All the way, my lady."
She blew out an bitter breath and twirled. The beaded skirt funneled, sucking a chilled draft up her trouser-clad legs.
"Better. Though something doesn't quite fit." Esek reached out for the bodice of the gown.
Vrell slapped his hand away.
He chuckled. "Atul tells me the stray is unaware of who you are." He raised a dark eyebrow. "Oh, yes, my lady, you and I are of the same mold, I see. Why do you fight it?"
Vrell sent another knock to Achan. His lack of response ignited a fear in her mind. Did he lie bleeding on the grassy lawn of the Mitspah bailey, a sword protruding from his heart? She gasped as the familiar fear settled into her veins, inspiring one disturbing image after another.
This was not night. This was Darkness! How far from the castle was she?
She sent a knock to Sir Gavin.
Sir Gavin's voice came and went in a breath. A moment, Vrell. Mitspah is under attack.
She groaned inside and sent a knock to Achan again.
Esek held up his arms. Chora buckled a belt and sword around his waist. Owr. Achan's rightful sword. "This moment my Kingsguards are weakening the stray's so-called army. Can you believe he wasted all this time freeing a legion of withered grandsires?"
Esek laughed. "Now I will ride, find the stray, and cut him down once and for all. Once he is dead, I return for our wedding. But you are disappointed, my lady. Yes, I too would prefer something more elegant and formal, but since your mother refuses to cooperate, I shall take what I can get."
Esek tapped his cheek with his black-gloved finger. A row of rings glimmered over the leather. "A little kiss? For luck?"
Khai's dagger found Vrell's waist again. Her stomach coiled as she inched toward Esek's inclined head. She grabbed his face and bit down, sinking her teeth into his hairy cheek.
The familiar pressure of Achan's mind pressed in. Yes, Miss Sparrow? You seem quite determined to get my attention this afternoon. Have you reconsidered hearing me out?
Esek growled, the sound increasing to a full-on yell. His leather glove squeezed Vrell's neck, pushing her away.
Vrell released her bite. Achan! Are you hurt? Esek has taken me captive to his camp in Darkness. He said his men have attacked-she screamed, but Esek's strong fingers silenced her, cutting off her air. He held her at arm's length, still squeezing. He bashed his other hand against her cheek. Her legs crumpled under her, and Esek, now holding her up by her neck, lowered her to her knees.
Her released his grip some, leaned down, and tenderly kissed her cheek. "Oh, yes. You and I will have a splendid wedding night." He pushed her down, stomped on her face, and all went black.
36
Vrell Sparrow.
Achan opened his eyes to the low, timber ceiling. Sunlight beamed through the slats on the shutters, painting stripes of light across his wall. It must be late afternoon. He sat up, vision hazy, left eye still tender. He scratched his leg and sighed.
He'd been trying to watch the eight bloodvoicers again. He must have fallen asleep.
His head ached. Could bloodvoicing leave such an aftereffect? He reached for his list. Of the eight, Achan had solid feelings about Bazmark, Joab, and Nevon. He should cross those three men off and focus on the remaining five.
Another throb stabbed his temple. He clutched the scroll and lay back on his bed. Ahh. Maybe he should see if Sparrow had any tea for headaches.
Wait. Sparrow loathed him because he'd kissed her. Of all the foolhardy things. He could barely stand to relive the wondrous and horrifying moment.
And how much had Kurtz overheard? If he still thought Sparrow a lad… This might be awkward. Achan knew he would be the one to bungle Sparrow's secret, but this…
Sir Gavin had rebuked him for having tussled with Sparrow earlier. Said it was inappropriate and that Achan might have hurt her. Well, Sir Gavin would likely tar and feather him when Kurtz told him what he'd seen. Sir Caleb more so.
It wasn't entirely fair, the way they'd harped. He was the one with the black eye. And Sparrow had been the one to draw her sword in the bailey, though Achan had probably set things off by pushing her into the moat.