She lifted her skirts and ran across the room. "Averella, my darling!" She grabbed Vrell in a tight hug.
"Gently, Nitsa, she is wounded."
Sir Eagan's voice softened Mother's grip. She took Vrell's hand in her gloved one, gently kissed her forehead, and turned to face to Sir Eagan. Her bottom lip trembled. "Oh, Eagan. Time has aged you well."
Sir Eagan stared at Mother like a man in a dream. "'Tis kind of you to say so, my lady, though from my eyes, not a day has passed. You are as lovely as ever."
Mother inched closer to Sir Eagan, her lavender skirt swaying like a bell with each step. "You brought her back to me."
He reached out his hand. "I did."
Mother set her gloved one in his. The three of them stood in a line, holding hands. Vrell swallowed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She watched her mother and Sir Eagan stare at each other, wondering, wondering.
*
Vrell sucked in a short breath. She had always despised corsets. Having lived as a boy for nearly a year, this one felt horribly tight. It especially aggravated the wound in her side, though her maidservant, Syrah, had taken care not to lace the corset as tight as was proper. Vrell did feel pretty for the first time in ages. Syrah had aired out a green velvet gown with peach accents and had twisted Vrell's hair up on her head and secured it with a gold-beaded caul net.
Vrell stood at the window of Mother's study overlooking the inner bailey. Beyond, she could see the outer bailey and the road leading north from Carmine, edged on both sides by grape vines. It had been three days since Vrell left Mitspah. Captain Tristan Loam's soldiers milled about, anxious, no doubt, for the prince's arrival. Captain Loam had dressed his men in Old Kingsguard capes as a sign of Carmine's support.
Achan and his contingent of volunteer fighters were due to arrive in Carmine today. According to Anillo, the men could hardly wait to swear fealty to Achan and go to war. These were Mother's soldiers, of course, who knew all too well of Lord Nathak's persecution over the years. It would be more difficult to persuade all of Carm to go to war on Achan's behalf.
Vrell had remained hidden since her arrival. Besides her mother and Sir Eagan, only Anillo and Syrah were aware of her return. She had chosen Mother's study to hide in because the secret passages that led out from it took her all over the stronghold. She might spy on Achan's welcome banquet but would not attend. If she were to meet Achan as Lady Averella, more time would have to pass. Preferably enough time for him to marry and forget her. The thought made her teary-eyed again. She had been crying since she arrived home. She was sick to death of tears.
A knock sounded on the door and Anillo poked his head in. "My lady? The duchess asked that Master Bran Rennan be brought to this room."
Vrell tensed and closed her eyes. The duchess. Anillo's use of Mother's title was a signal of a request not to be argued with. Vrell had put off her reunion with Bran Rennan, despite all Mother's urging to speak with him right away. Apparently Mother's patience had run out. Vrell had waited so long for this moment. Now that it had finally arrived, she dreaded it.
She nodded. Anillo opened the door fully. Bran stepped inside, looking strange in the red Old Kingsguard cape. The color matched his sunburned face and made him look red all over. She shook off the critical thought and forced a smile.
Bran looked her up and down, clearly uncertain of her identity. "Averella?"
She nodded.
He crossed the room at a run and swept her into a hug, twirling her in a circle.
Vrell cried out at the pain in her side. "Bran, please. Put me down. I am injured."
He set her down and, holding her shoulders, stepped back and peered into her eyes. He seemed shorter than she remembered him. Or maybe Achan was taller.
"Where?"
"My side. It is a long story."
"We have all the time in the world, my lady." He led her to the sofa and helped her sit. "You're so thin. Are you hungry? I could have Anillo bring a tray." Bran jumped up but Vrell snagged his hand.
"No, Bran. I have eaten. Please sit. You are making me nervous."
He slid beside her on the sofa. He took her hands again, brought them to his nose, and sniffed. "I want to breathe you in. How I've missed you. Is it true, what Prince Oren told Sir Rigil? Were you traveling with the prince?"
"I was."
"Is it true the prince can bloodvoice?"
"He can."
"And Sir Gavin?"
"Yes. He can bloodvoice as well. As can I."
"You, Averella? Why didn't you say so?"
"I only discovered it just before I left."
Bran's smile faltered. "Why couldn't you or Sir Gavin send word that you were well? For so long I didn't know. I begged Sir Rigil to ask Prince Oren, and I heard some rumors, but…Averella, how could you leave me wondering? When all this time you could have sent word to your mother yourself, you had no message for me?"
Vrell saw the hurt in his eyes. She did not know why she had not thought to ask her mother to pass along a message to Bran. "F-Forgive me, Bran. These past many months…I have not been myself. I have lived in constant fear of discovery. My life has been threatened time and again. I have no other excuse."
"You were hiding from Esek and your mother sent you to Walden's Watch. That story your mother eventually confided to me. But then Esek issued a warrant for your arrest, claiming you'd run off with the prince. But others claimed no woman traveled with the prince. Only the Kingsguard knights and his-" Bran's nose wrinkled-"squire?"
"Mother did not tell you I had taken on the guise of a stray boy to aid in my shelter?"
Bran shook his head, and Vrell launched into her story. Bran's expression hardened when she told of how she had spoken to him in the Mahanaim dungeon, then how later, they all stood together in the Council chambers. But Vrell plunged on, anxious to get the whole ordeal over and done with before the fight, for she knew there would be one.
She left out Achan's latest declarations. They would do Bran no good to hear, and they were simply in Achan's mind. It was not possible he felt so strongly about her. Give him a few weeks and she would be as Tara was.
A silly, sad smile and a laugh at his folly.
She finished her story with, "Sir Eagan offered to bring me here, and so I am finally home. All is well."
Bran folded his arms and leaned against the opposite end of the sofa. "So the prince does not know you're Lady Averella Amal? He thinks you're a stray trying to avoid life as someone's mistress?"
Vrell nodded.
Bran's eyes widened. "You lied to the future king?"
She stared at her hands in her lap. "Long before I knew he was the future king. To tell him the truth now would hurt him. I figured bide my time as Vrell until I could slip away."
"You love him."
Her cheeks tingled. She turned her head, staring at Bran. "Who?"
He released a breath. "Who indeed? I've waited all my life for you to look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"The way you look at one of your hybrid plants."
"Do not speak riddles, Bran. There is no one in this room but you."
Bran fiddled with the hem of his Kingsguard cloak. "You must tell him who you are."
Vrell sighed. "We have been over this already. Why does it matter?"
"Because he can't very well marry a stray, my lady. Sir Rigil tells me he's being pressured to marry. Had he known your true identity, he might have asked."