This was his chamber at Mirrorstone. But he didn't remember coming in. There had been wine at dinner, and later, when they were playing one hundred. One glass couldn't have bested him, could it?
Achan reached out to Sparrow's mind for answers, but his head hurt too much to focus. He lifted a hand to caress his temple, but it was lost in his ridiculously long quilted sleeve. He rolled both sleeves to his elbows and traced the raw scar on his left cheek. A spicy scent lingered on his fingers. Jaira. Why did his hands reek of her? He'd barely touched her.
An image of him holding Jaira's face flitted though his mind's eye.
He sat upright and ripped back the curtains on the other side of the bed.
Sparrow slept on the floor, slouched against the wall beside his bed, one knee pulled up to his chest, an arm draped across it.
"Sparrow!"
The boy twitched, and his arm fell to the floor. He blinked wildly and clutched his pathetic sword. "Is she here?"
"Who?"
"Jaira." Sparrow jumped up and hurried to the bedside. He laid his sword on the bed and set his palm to Achan's forehead. "Oh, Your Highness. Are you well?"
"I feel ill. Fuddled, I think. I've never been fuddled, so I can't be certain. Was there wine with dinner?"
"There is always wine with dinner, but you are not drunk. You were poisoned."
Achan's heart thudded. "I was?"
Sparrow stepped back. "If you remember nothing of last night, perhaps that is best."
"No, tell me." Achan leaned closer to examine a long purple bruise on the boy's neck. "What happened to you?"
"You professed your undying affection for Princess Jaira."
Achan grinned. "Very funny."
"She is a mage. All the Hamartano women are, I suspect. She asked you to smell a powder that robbed your mind and turned you into a sentimental fool. For her."
The look on Sparrow's face sobered Achan quickly. Horror seeped up his spine, bolstered by the lingering scent of Jaira and the memory of the embrace. "Wh-What did I do?"
Sparrow wrinkled his nose. "You proposed. And when I tried to stop you, you attacked me."
Achan rubbed his throat in the place where Sparrow's throat was bruised. "I did?"
"You were right, Your Highness. Passion does increase a man's strength."
The door to Achan's room inched open. Sir Caleb poked his shaggy head inside. "Good. You're up." He threw the door wide and he, Sir Gavin, and Inko lumbered in, carrying their packs as if they were ready to leave that instant. They dropped them inside the chamber and surrounded Achan's bed.
Achan glanced briefly at the knights, then back at the bruises on Sparrow's throat. "Sparrow, I…I'm sorry."
Sir Gavin raised a bushy eyebrow. "Vrell has told you, then? What went on last night?"
Achan scratched behind his ear. "I don't understand-"
"There's no need to relive it," Sir Caleb said. "Get dressed. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Lord Eli doesn't know what to believe. Queen Hamartano made her accusations before I could. The pontiff's story doesn't match Vrell's, so he's lying for whatever reason. We'd planned to go anyway. Leaving in secret might make you look guilty, but lingering to prove our case will only give more opportunity for attacks against you, and I'm not trained to fight Jaelportian mages. Are you well?"
"Uh…my head. It…hurts. But I'll love-" Achan pressed a hand to his neck as if a dry throat had caused that slip of the tongue. "I'll live."
Inko poured a mug of water from a tray on the sideboard. Achan took it and drank.
Sir Caleb pulled one of the wooden chairs over from the wall and sat beside the bed. "Never smell anything from the hand of a Jaelportian woman, Your Highness."
Achan groaned. "Now you tell me."
"Lord Eli was having a hand in this all, I'm being certain," Inko said.
"It simply proves my point," Sir Caleb said. "Achan should marry soon."
Achan fell back and pulled the pelt over his head. He didn't want to hear this again.
"Please." Sir Gavin sniffed long and hard. "Never in all my years of service have I seen anything like this. 'Tis nothing to fear will happen again once we're away."
Achan hoped not. That a simple powder could make him declare love for Jaira Hamartano… He shuddered.
Sir Caleb's chair creaked. "But if he's wed, there will be nothing to worry about."
"What is it you fear, Caleb?" Sir Gavin asked. "Once we leave, there will be no more danger of love dusts."
"I fear he falls for the wrong woman's charm. A beautiful woman can be convincing without love dust. If he's properly married, there's no fear of-"
"Many a king still finds beautiful women falling at his feet. His being married won't keep that temptation from him."
"It should," Sparrow said in his bossy tone.
Achan wanted to agree, but his feelings for Gren hadn't kept Lady Tara from his mind.
"But if Jaelport wanted to steal his heir, a child with his gift could be trained against him," Sir Caleb said.
Child? Achan pulled down the pelt and opened his mouth to comment, but could think of nothing to interject into such a statement. His head still hurt, and the conversation didn't help.
Sir Gavin tugged at his beard braid. "If they could steal an heir now, they can steal an heir when he's wed. What will be, will be, Caleb. Why worry over it?"
Sir Caleb scoffed as if it were obvious. "Because his firstborn must be legitimate, of course. So no other child could make a claim."
"But should his firstborn be killed, the second could still make a claim, even if he were born out of wedlock."
Achan pushed himself to sitting. "Stop killing off children I don't have! This is madness." He threw off the pelt. He still wore his clothes from last night, but his boots had been removed. He wanted his own clothes, what Gren had made him, not this pompous garb. Besides, it reeked of Jaira.
He slid from the bed, the wood floor cool under his bare feet. He spied Sir Gavin's pack against the far wall and walked toward it, wincing at his throbbing head.
"Your Highness," Sir Caleb said, "as we've mentioned, a king is a target for much trickery and deceit. We second guess possibilities as our way of protecting you."
Achan threw up his hands. "But I wouldn't…I could never… Why would you all assume I'd betray my wife?"
"We cannot be knowing what you might be doing until you've done it," Inko said.
Accusation stabbed his heart. "None of you have faith in me to do what's right?"
"Truly we're knowing little about you, Your Highness. It'll be taking time to-"
"Aw, 'tis more we don't trust others not to take advantage of you," Sir Gavin said. "Look what Jaira nearly accomplished."
"Don't blame yourself, Your Highness," Sir Caleb said. "There's a reason women rule in Jaelport. Magic is not taught to men there unless they become eunuchs. Remember, Queen Hamartano, not her husband, rules Jaelport."
Achan continued across the room, pitying Lord Hamartano.
"Shouldn't have left him unguarded," Sir Gavin said.
"We didn't," Sir Caleb said. "Vrell was to bloodvoice any threat, and he did his duty."
"His duty?" Sir Gavin's voice rose in pitch. "One lad? To guard our prince? Vrell is untrained, unprepared for such responsibility."
"Since when do you care about a soldier's skill level?" Sir Caleb asked.
Sir Gavin gestured to Vrell. "The lad nearly died trying to protect his future king."
Achan recalled the ugly bruise on Sparrow's neck. He didn't feel worthy to have people willing to die for his stupidity. He opened Sir Gavin's pack and dug for his clothes.
Sir Caleb set a hand on Sparrow's shoulder. "Vrell took out Larkos on his own, which was very well done, boy. He's a hero who'll someday make an excellent Kingsguard knight."