"Regardless, my dear, the offer is excellent and would provide a way to unite this duchy. If you can think of no better refusal than having to admit your falsehoods, I shall have to accept."
"Be reasonable, Mother! Achan pledges his heart to everyone but Arman. If I married him, it would not be long before he found a prettier wife to replace me. He admitted his temptation to give his heart to every pretty woman he sees."
"And yet look at him, Averella." She smiled sadly. "Your fear has you imagining a different man, I think."
Vrell got to her feet. "Perhaps. But as you say, I do not want to be queen. I have studied what happens to kings in Er'Rets. With power comes control and overindulgence. I do not wish to spend my life fending off those who would twist my husband's ear for their own gain or women who would throw themselves at my husband to steal his heart from me."
"If he has strong advisors, that responsibility would not fall to you alone."
"Regardless, I do not want that life."
"Won't you at least consider it? He's a dear young man. He says he has had a recent encounter with Arman."
"He does? What did he say?"
"Nothing much. But I sense Arman has his attention. Perhaps your leaving has made him look upward. At any rate, I trust Arman to sharpen his integrity, not weaken it." Mother took Vrell's hand. "This token accompanied the offer." She slid a small metal object into Vrell's palm.
Vrell crouched, held her hand to the candlelight. A ruby on the king's signet ring gleamed in the pale light, stealing her breath. "Mother." Vrell's voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "Do you know how Achan came to possess this…token?"
"It is the Hadar ring, passed down from King Echad himself."
"Yes, but Esek had it, and Achan took it from his finger after having cut off his arm." Vrell shuddered. "Mother, this token is a symbol of violence." To help rescue me, she thought before she could stop herself.
"That ring is over six hundred years old. It has seen much violence on the hands of kings," Mother said. "It has also seen much joy. Achan is barely a man. His time with this ring has barely started. If he is successful, and Light can be brought back to Er'Rets, I have no doubt this ring will see much joy and happiness on his finger."
Vrell twisted back to the peephole. Achan still stared forward. What could leave him so blank? She gently reached for his thoughts.
Achan bolted to his feet, jostling the table and spilling his soup. "Sparrow?"
Vrell's breath caught and she closed her mind. He must have left his mind open to her, in case she initiated contact.
Achan scanned the room and ran down the dais steps to the men sitting at the nearest table. "Pardon me, do you know Vrell Sparrow?"
The men shook their heads.
Achan asked the same of the next three tables. He returned to the dais and looked up the wall beneath where Vrell hid. He put his good hand on it, his other arm still in its sling. "Sparrow?"
Vrell doubled her efforts to close her mind. Achan appeared to be staring right up through the peephole. Impossible. Still, she slid back out of sight and stood.
"Oh, Averella." Mother took her arm. "No more of that."
Vrell could still hear Achan calling. "Sparrow? Sparrow!"
She wrinkled her nose, his pleading tone bringing tears to her eyes. "I'm sorry. That was foolish."
They retrieved their candle and lantern and followed the corridor back to one of the secret rooms on the other side of Mother's study.
The room held a table and chairs and a cold hearth. Vrell sank into one of the chairs, folded her arms on the table, and laid down her head. Tears burned her eyes.
She felt Mother's hand on her back. "Do you love him?"
Vrell lifted her head and blinked away the tears. "I fear I do not know what love is. When I think of Achan, I have very strong feelings. But I once felt the same of Bran and that went away in time. Can love be so easily set aside?"
Mother claimed the chair beside Vrell's and took her hands. "Sometimes, wanting to be loved is half the passion. You convince yourself it is real because it is new and exciting. And maybe it is true. But that is why young women should not run off with men in the vineyards or traipse across Darkness. When you give your heart to a man who does not or cannot keep it, you lose a part of it and have less to give the next man who comes along. That is how Arman intended it. He designed a whole heart for one man. But alas, it cannot always be."
Vrell's throat burned at the idea of Achan marrying Lady Halona Pitney. "I confess I allowed Achan to capture my heart-"
Her eyes widened. That one statement of truth shocked her so much, it opened a flood of tears. She cupped her hands over her nose and mouth and let them come. Somehow her mother's presence made it worse. There was now a witness to the truth. Someone to hold her accountable.
It was some time before she managed to speak again. "I never intended to, Mother, I swear. And I will not consider him until he pledges his life to Arman. His heart must go to Arman first. That is what you taught me." She sniffled. "So what shall I do?"
"Pray, dearest child."
42
Anillo approached Achan and Shung as they were leaving the great hall. A full breakfast weighed down Achan's belly. Perhaps he would gorge himself daily and become a fat swine king. Why not?
"The duchess has prepared a private room for your gathering this morning. If you will follow me."
Anillo led them into the duchess's study on the third floor of the entrance hall. A small, carved desk with a shiny jade surface and matching throne-like chair sat before a wide, brownstone fireplace that stretched to the ceiling. A polished redwood floor matched redwood wainscoting carved in scrolls and flowers. Gilded ivory paneling, murals, and the occasional niche covered the top half of the room. The murals were of vineyards or people making wine, and each niche held a vase or small sculpture of a figure. A floor-to-ceiling tapestry divided each wall into thirds.
Anillo approached the wall on the east end of the study and touched the chair rail. A click sent an arched niche swinging outward. "For your safety, the duchess has granted you access to her secret meeting rooms and tunnels."
Anillo steadied the vase on the niche and motioned for Achan and Shung to enter.
Shung entered first, then nodded for Achan to enter. Achan ducked sideways through the opening into a dark, narrow corridor, careful not to bump his slinged arm on the doorframe. Anillo followed, holding a pottery lamp. Its single flame gave off plenty of light once Anillo pulled the secret door closed.
"Are these passageways all over the castle?" Achan asked.
"Yes, but please, Your Majesty. Do not go exploring alone. The last man who tried got lost and had nearly starved when he stumbled out into the barracks ten days later. I would be happy to give you a quick tour if the duchess agrees."
"Thank you." Did Armonguard have secret passageways too? Had Sitna?
Anillo barely moved before knocking on the wall opposite Duchess Amal's study.
The door swung in, spilling a stripe of yellow light across the dark corridor. This doorway was short and wide. Achan ducked inside after Shung, into small meeting room.
Sir Gavin and the other knights were seated in high-backed chairs around a long table that held two bright oil lamps, a tray filled with grapes, apples, and tarts, a sweating jug, and a stack of stone cups. A fireplace blazed in the corner.
A sudden bout of nerves seized Achan's gut at the sight of the empty chair at the head of the table. He poured himself a mug of water and approached the chair, knowing he needed to take charge. The knights continued to proclaim him Crown Prince and tell him what to do. Achan needed to step forward. Either he was the future king or he was not. It was time to decide, time to act.