Vrell had wanted to look in on Bran for ages, but it had seemed so invasive. She was thankful for permission to try. She closed her eyes and pictured his face. Unable to see the whole of it, she concentrated on each feature. Sunburned nose. Thick brown hair, tousled by the wind. Dark, brown eyes.
A room came into view from a low angle. Small and clean and quite sparse. A cottage, like the peasant's homes in Carmine. The sun shone through a curtainless window, casting a bright beam of light across a wooden floor. Chopping filled the room along with the smell of onions. A young woman stood at a table, her back facing where Bran sat on a squat, wooden stool. At first Vrell thought of Ressa, but this woman seemed taller, and her hair was russet and longer than Ressa's, bound in a single plait that dangled past her waist.
She wore a brown dress with a linen apron tied in back. The ivory ties cut into her waist and accentuated her hourglass form. Yet Bran stared at her bare ankles that peeked out between her long dress and black slipper shoes.
Vrell frowned.
I'm sorry my father's not here, the young woman said, keeping her back to Bran. He could be out a while. He'll need to get used to the soil here. It's not that he won't be able to do as good as he did in Sitna. It'll just take time. He wove excellent fabrics for Lord Nathak and the prin- Well, he wove excellent fabrics.
She turned and smiled at Bran. Her face was lovely: caramel, freckled skin with rosy cheeks; wide, brown eyes, watery from the onions, with dark lashes. Her thick chestnut hair pulled back from her face into the braid, but wispy tendrils had escaped and framed her rosy cheeks. No wonder Bran stared. Vrell wished she could elbow him.
You sure I can't get you some ale or tea or…or water? Her chest heaved with a deep breath. She fidgeted with the frayed top edge of her apron, then jerked her hand away as if realizing she might call attention to her neckline. She spun back to the table so quickly her skirt coiled around her legs and slowly unwound.
Bran's attention drifted back to her bare ankles. A glass of water might be nice, madam, if it's no trouble.
Madam? This pretty young girl was married? Praise Arman. Vrell relaxed a bit.
The young woman curtsied, No trouble at all, sir, and scurried from the room.
Bran straightened on the stool and chuckled softly.
The young woman returned in a moment holding a mug in two hands. She crossed the room, her eyes focused on the mug. She stumbled and some of the water slapped to the floor. Her eyes bulged and her whole face darkened.
Oh! I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean-
A clap of hands and Sir Gavin's, "Did you succeed?" zapped Vrell away from the mystery girl and her spilled water.
Vrell faced Sir Gavin, but her thoughts were back in Carmine. What was Bran doing at that peasant's cottage? He had wanted to speak to the girl's father? Why? Who were they?
"Well?" Sir Gavin asked.
Achan frowned and traced the red welt around his right wrist. "I've looked in on Gren before. I mean…I think I have. I didn't know if I was bloodvoicing or if Darkness was playing with my mind. Last night on the sandbar… I think I misunderstood. But, Sir Gavin, something is amiss. Why would Gren have left Sitna and why would Bran Rennan be visiting her father?"
Vrell's eyes widened. Bran with Gren? Achan had looked in on Gren and saw Bran… Vrell's breath caught. That was Achan's Gren?
Sir Gavin grimaced and shifted on the stool. "Aw, I'm sorry, lad. Prince Oren bid me tell you when I found the right moment, only we have been running since I got the message. I planned to tell you-this night, actually, once we were alone."
The floor seemed to fall out from under Vrell. "Would you like me to leave?"
"No." Achan lifted his chin. "There's no need."
Sir Gavin nodded. "When you escaped from Mahanaim, Esek sent Lord Nathak back to Sitna to keep an eye on the Duchess of Carm and Gren's family. Leverage over the two things he wants most. Control of Carm and control of you."
Achan stood up as if he planned to run out the door and save Gren.
Sir Gavin clutched the hem of Achan's tunic. "Esek sent Khai into Darkness to track you. But Macoun Hadar had his own agenda. Since Khai also works for him and was already following you for Esek, Macoun sent Jax to Sitna to kidnap Gren before Lord Nathak got to her. Macoun, of course, is hoping to use Gren as leverage against you as well."
"Pig snout." Achan dropped back to the pallet.
Sir Gavin continued, "As you both know, Jax is a Marad spy, loyal to Prince Oren and to us. Prince Oren asked Jax to move Gren's family to a safe place. Sir Rigil and his squire, Bran Rennan-" Sir Gavin peered at Vrell-"were already in Carmine since they had gone to aid the duchess. Jax met Sir Rigil and his men outside Sitna Manor.
"Bran, being the least intimidating of the group, was sent to initiate contact with Gren's family. But Gren's father rejected Bran's warning, so Bran went to speak with Riga. He didn't listen either. Sitna has been overrun with thieves since Lord Nathak left. The people trust no one for fear of being swindled. Sir Rigil made a second attempt to contact Gren's father but found the Fenny home deserted. When he knocked at the Hoff home, he was arrested."
Vrell's breath hitched. She hoped nothing had happened to Sir Rigil.
"When Sir Rigil didn't return, Bran managed to find out from the local peasants that both families had been arrested. He and Jax broke into the Sitna dungeons and rescued all but Riga Hoff, who died trying to defend his wife."
Achan's eyes grew as wide as full moons. "Riga's dead?"
"Aye. I'm sorry, Achan."
"Trying to save Gren?"
"That's right. Sir Rigil said he took a sword for her, during the rescue attempt, I believe."
"Riga was her baby?" Achan's brow crinkled and he sank back on his elbows.
Vrell pulled her knees to her chest. The poor girl. To be married to a man she didn't love, then to see him killed…
"Yesterday on the sandbar," Achan's voice broke. He cleared his throat. "I heard Gren crying about her baby, thought she'd lost a child. It seemed so real, yet I thought Darkness had twisted my mind."
"Ah, yes. Well, Gren is expecting a child. Her mother informed Sir Rigil once they settled in Carmine, which happened a few days ago."
"Oh!" Vrell clapped a hand over her mouth. Sir Gavin could have delivered that bit of information at another time. Not heap it all on poor Achan at once. Did the man not see how weighed down Achan already was?
Sir Gavin focused on Vrell. "So, that's that. Vrell, were you successful with your attempt to watch?"
Vrell nodded but refused to elaborate. She wanted to respect Achan's moment of grief and not run over it as Sir Gavin appeared willing to do.
Achan only stared past Vrell's left ear with a dazed look.
*
Achan meandered out to the front room, limping on his bandaged feet. His muscles were tight and stiff. Sir Caleb and Inko sat at the table, playing a dice game.
"Want to join us, Your Highness?" Sir Caleb asked.
"No thanks." Dice reminded him of Lord Eli and Jaira.
He paced to the door, then doubled back and plopped in the middle of one of the sofas. He disliked this house. Too cramped. He wanted to be outside-not in Darkness but by the allown tree in Sitna, watching the clouds sail across the blue sky. His body throbbed. He inspected the welts on his wrists again, the most visible of his injuries besides his cheeks.
As he pondered how long it might take until his beard hid the scars on his cheeks, Ressa walked out from the hallway carrying one of the babies. Achan couldn't tell the boy from the girl. The child turned its wide, brown eyes on Achan and all he could see was Gren and her child, staring at him.