Achan turned his concerned expression to Vrell. His voice barged into her mind. Some welcome for the prince, huh? Not nearly as nice as Berland, but at least you don't have to fly.
Must you always jest when the situation is dire?
Jesting is better than worrying. At least I don't give myself a stomachache and a sour expression on a daily basis.
Sir Gavin's eyes opened. He handed the arrows to Inko. "We'll wait here a moment longer."
"You were successful?" Achan asked.
"Aye. I found someone I know."
Vrell swelled with joy. "Really? Who?"
Sir Gavin shot Sir Caleb a knowing look. "An old friend."
A man's voice called out, "Sir Gavin?"
Sir Gavin stood but remained behind the shield. "Aye?"
"Stand by for the gates to open," the man said. "I'll meet you below."
That was all? "What assurances do they give that they will not attack us once we enter? Why should we trust them now?"
"It was a misunderstanding, Vrell. Do not fear."
Easy for Sir Gavin to say. If he would share who he spoke with, it might ease Vrell's apprehension.
Blessed Achan asked that very question. "Who was that?"
Sir Gavin slid his shield strap over his arm and grabbed his horse's reins. "Carmack is a young man from Tsaftown. I should like to know why he's here."
The name Carmack was familiar, though Vrell could not recall why.
Wood cracked as if a branch had been ripped from a tree. The right gatehouse door drew in, leaving a drift of snow between them and the bailey. Vrell took up her horse's reins and followed the men. By the time they reached the gate, three soldiers were shoveling the snow where it had caved in on the doorway. Sir Caleb went to retrieve his boarding hook.
Once the path was clear, Sir Gavin led the way, followed by Sir Caleb, Achan, and Inko. Vrell entered last. Snow covered the ground inside the bailey. Deep trenches crisscrossed one another like a spider's web, leading from dozens of wooden dwellings on the left of the keep to the larger outbuildings on the right.
The keep stood in the center, a dark shadow dotted with golden light gleaming from within through arrow loops and cracks in shutters. Windows also lit up each tiny wooden cottage. The scene reminded Vrell of a winter night in Carmine. A man's hearty voice drew Vrell's attention away from her surroundings. She'd heard that voice before.
"As I breathe, it's the Whitewolf himself. What brings you to Meribah Corner?"
A bear of a man approached the gate. He stood a hand taller than Achan and twice as wide. He wore a short bushy beard covered in a layer of frost, making it impossible for Vrell to guess his age. Vrell's mind spun trying to remember where she had heard his voice.
Sir Gavin greeted the man in a brief, fierce hug. "Carmack, 'tis good to see you. I feared your guardsmen might leave us to freeze if they didn't slay us first."
"Not my guardsmen, I'm afraid. But I do apologize. Lord Gershom is not himself. We've not had visitors since…well, not since I arrived."
"And why are you here, my boy, if not a guardsman? Did Lord Livna send you away?"
"Aye, in a sense. All will be explained soon enough. Let's get your horses to the stables and you all inside to thaw your beards. I wish we had the manpower to put your animals up ourselves, but…well, we're doing what we can to keep Meribah Corner on its feet."
The men took off toward the stables at a brisk pace. Vrell didn't blame them. The idea of sitting by a warm fireplace quickened her step as well.
The stables were thick with the familiar smell of hay and dung. Vrell led her horse in only to pass Achan, Sir Gavin, and Carmack coming out.
Vrell hurried inside to see Sir Caleb taking the saddle off Achan's mount.
"Help us with the horses, won't you, Vrell?" Sir Caleb asked. "We'll let Gavin and the prince get warm."
Vrell swallowed, ignoring the ache in her chest, and unbuckled her saddle. The Crown Prince should be taken in to get warm. Vrell traveled as his squire-his servant-nothing more. Putting up the horses was a squire's duty. Still, that Sir Gavin left her behind when he knew-
No. She chose this. No one had forced her to keep her identity a secret. She lifted a brush from the wall and worked it over her horse's back. It wouldn't be long until they reached Carmine. Then she could be pampered again. She just needed to keep reminding herself to stick to her plan.
24
Achan followed Carmack and Sir Gavin along narrow trenches cut through waist-high snow. His toes were numb, though walking warmed him some. He couldn't wait to take his boots off by a fire. And sleep in a bed, a real mattress, not the icy ground or a trembling tree.
Carmack opened a door on the side of the keep. They filed into a narrow, stone corridor, lit by a lone torch. The chill lessened despite the thick layer of frost that coated the outer wall. Carmack passed the torch that had burned to a stub. The flame danced about, seeming to reach out and grab at Achan.
Carmack stopped at a door just past the torch. His brown eyes met Achan's and he bowed without breaking eye contact. "You may wait in here, Your Majesty." He pulled open the door and it scraped over the stone floor.
Achan entered into the back of a warm solar through the servant's door. Iron sconces hung on timber plank walls. They held fat white candles that gave off the faint scent of jasmine and left the room smelling like a woman was nearby. Achan smiled at the thought.
He stood behind a round table. Across the room, a large pair of antlers was mounted above a simple stone fireplace that glowed with warmth. A sofa with a high, carved back faced the hearth, flanked by two matching chairs with brown cushions. There were no elaborate tapestries, no silver trays with grapes and tarts, no marble pillars or busts.
Achan liked this room a great deal.
Carmack closed the door before Sir Gavin could enter. Achan reached for the door handle. Sir Gavin!
All is well, lad. Warm yourself. I shall join you shortly.
Achan pulled off his mittens, shrugged off his cape, and set them on the tabletop. His fingers were pink. The crackling fire drew him around the sofa. He knelt beside a wrought iron poker stand and held out his hands.
"You intend to warm yourself by my fire without an introduction?"
Achan jumped up and whirled around, knocking the poker stand to the hearth with a terrible clank. A woman in a red gown sat in the center of the high-backed sofa, looking small, almost royal, as if sitting on a throne. Achan paused in shock at her familiar white-blond curls and blue eyes.
Lady Tara? He lunged forward to greet her, then remembered the poker stand. He spun around and righted it, mind fogged. He hadn't expected to see Lady Tara until Tsaftown.
He popped back to his feet only to snag his scabbard on the poker stand. It clattered to the stone hearth again, rattling Achan's nerves. He blew out a frustrated breath and righted it, stepping away more carefully this time.
"Lady Tara." He bowed, clueless what to say. "Wh-What…uh, what brings you to Meribah Corner?"
A slow smile spread across her face and she scooted to the edge of her seat. "Why, Master Cham. Meribah Corner is my home now, and I welcome you to it. Though I would ask the same of you. Why are you here?"
Her home? What about Tsaftown? Young nobles often lived in the household of a relative or friend to learn a trade-or perhaps Lord Gershom had taken her as a ward to earn a fief from her father. Achan's stomach twisted. His stay here might be his only opportunity to ask for her hand. How did a man ask such a thing of a woman he barely knew? And should he do it now, before Sir Gavin returned with the others and reminded him her rank wasn't high enough?