Vrell nodded. "Thank you, Sir Eagan. Going home will bring me great comfort."
"I am happy to serve any way I-"
"I said, let me in!" Achan's muffled voice yelled from outside the door.
"Strike me as much as you like, Pacey," Kurtz answered in an overly loud voice. "Beat me, club me, flog me, torture me, eh? But my orders come from the master surgeon, they do."
Sir Eagan winced. "Our star dramatist hard at work. Shall we let our prince in to see you or shall I say you are sleeping? I may not be able to stop him either way."
Vrell swallowed. "It is all right. He may enter."
"Very well." Sir Eagan walked to the door. He opened it and patted Kurtz on the shoulder. "Kurtz, you and I are needed elsewhere."
Kurtz stepped aside with regal posture and bowed. His bottom lip had swollen as if he had been-Vrell's hand shot to her lips. Oh, Achan. Angry men could be so foolish.
Achan pushed past Kurtz, who winked at Vrell before closing the door. Achan stopped just inside as if he did not know where to go now that he had finally gained entry. He looked a mess. His hair frizzed out all over, bruises blackened his face and neck, scratches covered his face, dried blood caked around his left ear, and fresh blood soaked through his fresh white tunic in two places under his arm.
She shifted-her side ached-and clutched her blankets back up around her neck. "Are you hurt, Your Highness?"
"Barely," he mumbled. "You?"
"I am well."
He let out a long breath and limped forward three steps. His wince proved that every move pained him.
Stubborn as he was, she dared not point it out. "What happened at Esek's camp?"
"I believe you killed Khai."
Vrell clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, I did not mean to. I only wanted to help you."
Achan laughed silently, then crinkled his brow and stopped as if even silent laughter aggrieved his wounds. "You helped me fine."
"But I…" She had stabbed him only once. "I have never killed anyone."
Achan sighed. "It's not a pleasant feeling, is it? Even in regards to a man like Khai."
It did not seem real. "What else happened?"
Achan cast his blue eyes her way. He opened his mouth but did not speak. He limped the rest of the way to her bedside, seeming so much taller standing over her. He pursed his lips and, wincing, lowered himself to his right knee. Her pallet was so low to the ground his face was level with hers.
"I've learned a new trick. Open your mind." He reached out and slid his hand over the back of her hand, tucking his fingers between hers. He closed his eyes.
She tensed at the intimate way he held her hand, but her thoughts were interrupted by his. Flashes of activity flitted through her mind. His memories. Achan riding into Darkness on Dove, he and Shung fighting Khai, lifting Sparrow off Esek's bed, carrying her out of the pavilion, hearing her scream, watching her through Khai's apparitions, catching her as she fell from Khai's sword, carrying her to Dove.
Her chest swelled with the memory of his feelings and emotions, but it all moved so fast she could not stop to think about one thing in particular. Pain shot through her thigh when Esek's sword struck true. She was with him as he cut down Esek, took Owr and his father's ring.
Then Achan slumped on a horse. She experienced his agony and surprise at the cham bear's attack. Its teeth. Defeating it. Returning to Mitspah. Trying to see Vrell. Tiring. Sir Eagan looking over his wounds.
Vrell's mind became her own again. She opened her eyes to see Achan smiling. What reason could he have to smile? "Oh, Achan, a cham! How horrifying!"
His smile faded. "Aye, it wasn't pleasant. Glad I wore my chain armor."
She met his eyes. "Where did you learn to do that? Show me your memories?"
"Sir Eagan." Achan focused on their interlocked fingers and rubbed his thumb over the back of hers. "I may have killed Esek. I hadn't intended…he was in a bad position when I…"
Vrell stared at his pained face. From his memories, she knew exactly what he was thinking, reliving, regretting.
Achan licked his chapped lips. "Sparrow, I want to…I must speak with you about…. Sir Gavin tells me you intend to leave us soon."
She wanted to stop him from saying things they would both regret, but the intensity of his gaze kept her from protesting. "I do not belong here, Achan. You must understand that much."
"You belong with me. I need you."
"Whatever for? Sir Eagan has proven an excellent healer."
His blue eyes pierced her defenses, chipped away at the shield around her heart. He opened his mouth twice to speak, but said nothing. His tongue-tiedness set her pulse racing. "My heart does not beat for Sir Eagan."
She wilted. "No, Achan. None of that."
His brows furrowed. "Why do you fight it? I promised myself I would marry you no matter what anyone says."
She tried to pull her hands from his, but he held tight. "We are from different worlds, you and I. This can never be." Yet Lady Averella could certainly marry the prince. Would her lies never cease? How had everything gotten so twisted?
His eyes pleaded. "Don't say that, Sparrow, please don't. I want you here. I…"
She wanted to believe him, but how could it be true? "You wanted Tara a short time ago."
He puffed out a long breath. "I wanted Tara over a stranger, though she nearly was one."
"And Gren before that."
"But she… But you are different. You are my dearest friend."
Unlike Esek, and the other suitors over the years, Vrell knew Achan did not seek her inheritance, for he knew nothing about it. Still, Vrell pulled her hand from his grip. "You fall in love with every girl who crosses your path. I will not forget how you stared at Beska or Yumikak. Even Lady Lathia."
"Those silly girls are nothing like you."
She set her jaw. "Precisely. I will never be pretty enough for your arm." Even Bran had deserted Vrell for Gren-a peasant! — because she was prettier. "For three months we've known each other, you never once suspected me to be a woman-I mean, look at me." Tears gathered in Vrell's eyes, blurring Achan's face. "I am a shapeless, pale…twig! With hair like, uh…like tree lichen! I am as feminine as a broomstick. And a voice like a mule. I may as well be an adolescent boy."
He rose onto his knees, eyebrows puckered in sympathy. See? He agreed! He could see plainly that she was everything she knew she was.
But then he took the sides of her face in his hands and brushed away her tears with his thumbs. "No, Vrell."
He had never called her Vrell before.
"You were never a very good boy. There was always something bafflingly odd about you. I never cared for any of those other girls. You are so smart and tough. And you are beautiful."
She shook her head.
"Yes. You're a flower. You have the sweetest face. Your hair is like black corn silk." He pushed his fingers back through her hair. "You always smell like rosewater and have made me crave the smell. And what I love best about you-besides how soft you feel-is how your eyes pierce me every time you look my way, like I'm your target and your arrow struck true, bringing me to my knees. And the only way I can live is to look on those life-sustaining green eyes."
Her resistance dissolved at the tender honesty of his words. Joyous heart! He did care. Without a word, she brushed her lips against his.
His kiss was soft, hesitant this time. She felt their minds connect, sensed his caution, his exhilaration. His hands massaged her head, then one moved to her waist and he pulled her to the edge of the bed. His movement jarred her wounded side. He pulled back his face and gasped with her, feeling her pain.
Sorry.
He moved his hand back to her face, kissed her forehead, then hugged her head to his chest. She could hear his heart drumming. His thoughts spilled into her mind like water from a jug.