To her dismay, the song slowed. Beska wrapped her arms around Achan's neck and pressed against him in ways no noblewoman would deem proper.
She caught Sir Eagan's stare from across the table. Why did he watch her instead of Achan and Kurtz? Did he find her familiar too? How? He had been on Ice Island since Vrell was four. She wanted to ask Mother about him. After all, it was due to their thwarted love that Mother had agreed to consider allowing Vrell and Bran to marry despite his lesser noble status.
But Vrell did not understand Sir Caleb's comments about Mother wanting Sir Eagan freed. Did Mother plan to rekindle her old relationship? That should not bother Vrell.
But the color of Sir Eagan's hair did. Black as a raven. A plain, common color to be sure, but her mother's hair was auburn and her sisters were all blonde like her father. He used to tease that Vrell was a child of the gods. The direful facts of Mother and Sir Eagan's past, and Mother's forced marriage to Duke Amal, haunted her.
But such a thing could not be true! Mother had always been incorruptibly dutiful.
Yet Vrell had assumed the same about Achan, and there he stood cavorting with a woman who could very well be a strumpet. She glanced back across the room. Beska slid her hand up the back of Achan's neck and kissed him.
Vrell stood up so fast her chair fell back. "Do you see this, Sir Eagan? Why does the band play only slow songs? If I give them a coin, might they pick up the tempo? Do you have any?"
Sir Eagan's mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "I have no money. Do not fret, Vrell. One kiss will not shatter his virtue."
Vrell pursed her lips and took a deep, Sir Gavin-like breath through her nose. "Sir Caleb might disagree."
Sir Eagan chuckled. "No doubt he would."
Vrell righted her chair and fell into it, glaring at Achan, who now, to her delight, held Beska at arm's length.
Oh, much better.
I'm doing my best, Sparrow. Why don't you come try?
Achan's voice in her mind made her jump. She frightens me.
Achan twirled Beska under his arm. Did you see her kiss me?
Vrell rolled her eyes. How could I have missed it? She is probably after your coin purse. She has been feeling for it since she met you.
Achan laughed in his head. Well, I haven't got a coin purse, so it's her loss and my gain.
Taking advantage of a woman is never a gain to her, even if she is too dim or drunk to see it.
I didn't take advantage, and Beska isn't drunk.
The song ended. Achan bowed his head to Beska and thanked her for the dance, earning a look of surprise. Apparently the girl was not used to being treated kindly. Achan returned to the table and took a long drink from his mug.
He wrinkled his nose. "An odd concoction. Bitter and sweet at the same time." He set the mug down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest like a sullen child. "Sparrow, I can't read you. Sometimes you're more naive than a babe, other times, you're an old man passing out proverbs of wisdom. Why must you spoil my fun? These knights are going to marry me to a stranger. It's refreshing to be looked at as a man with no crown. Beska kissed me for me, not for my title."
"A great sacrifice, I am certain."
"What do you think, Sir Eagan?" Achan asked.
"That you dance well, Your Highness, but I do not think such behavior noble."
"Esek would," Vrell said.
This earned her a nasty glare from Achan, and she instantly regretted her words. She wanted Achan back upstairs where he belonged, but she did not want him cross with her.
But then Achan sighed. "Aye. You've nailed it, Sparrow. I don't want to be Esek. Not even a bit. Ever." He stood and pushed in his chair. "Think we can tear Sir Kurtz away?"
Sir Eagan smiled at Vrell. "Well, there are three of us and one of him. I think we stand an excellent chance."
Vrell woke and found Sir Gavin in good spirits, though pained and limping terribly. No one seemed aware of Achan and Kurtz's late-night visit to the tavern.
Sir Gavin insisted on going to Lord Livna himself. He rebraided his beard, tied off the end with a bit of twine, then he and Sir Caleb left while the rest of the men slept.
A short while later, a serving woman knocked on the door. She hung a pot of porridge over the fireplace in exchange for the dirty stew pot.
The men got up and ate. Vrell told them Sir Gavin wanted them packed and ready when he returned. It did not take long.
Kurtz tried to sneak out to the tavern again, which prompted an argument between him and Inko as to why he could not.
"But, Inko. The number five is favored over the number six." Kurtz's determined brow looked sincere, but Vrell knew better. "If I go out, the prince will be safer."
Inko's dark eyes shifted. Was he actually pondering this nonsense?
Kurtz inched toward the door. "Not letting me go could curse us all, eh?"
Achan's lips pursed as if trying to hold in his laughter.
"Do not think I'll be falling for your mocking me." Inko pulled a chair from the table and set it in front of the door. He sat down and quirked an eyebrow at Kurtz.
"Bah!" Kurtz fell onto his bed. "I always said this bunch were duller than a blind dowager, Highness. I urge you to appoint yourself a Kingsguard with a bit more spirit, eh?"
Achan laughed. "I didn't know I'd get to appoint anyone."
Kurtz didn't answer. He stared into space, a look of awe relaxing his scowl.
"As king, you will be needing to be appointing your staff eventually," Inko said.
"I'll be stormed!" Kurtz bounded from the bed. "It's back!"
"What?" Vrell asked.
"Elk bloodvoiced me. It's been so long, I forgot to even try, I did. The aleh must have worn off, eh?"
"You must be bloodvoicing the prince next," Inko said. "I am betting you will be surprised at his strength."
The men practiced bloodvoicing. Vrell, content to watch and not wanting to weaken herself before the ride to Lytton hall, did not participate.
When Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb returned, Sir Caleb said, "We will leave right away. Lord Livna has agreed to host us."
"We are ready," Vrell said. "I would like to check Sir Gavin's leg first."
Sir Gavin fell into a chair at the table, groaned, and brushed the frost off his beard. "You can check it later. Lytton Hall is but a short ride."
Vrell scowled but had no intention of arguing with Sir Gavin.
Achan held out his sword to Sir Eagan. "I return your sword with gratitude. It has served me well."
Sir Eagan blanched. "Oh, no, Your Highness. I do not have the strength to wield it. Please, use it well."
"But it's yours."
"And what of Owr?"
Achan frowned. "Esek has it."
Sir Eagan reached over his shoulder to scratch his back. "Then you must use Rhomphaia until you get Owr back."
Achan nodded. "Thank you." He strapped the jeweled belt around his waist. He seemed to stand taller whenever he wore it. "I had forgotten Owr should be mine."
"Oh, yes," Sir Eagan said. "Owr belongs to the anointed king of Er'Rets." He nudged Achan, approached the table where Sir Gavin sat, and winked at Vrell. "Gavin, you gave the prince my sword?"
Sir Gavin's mustache twitched, curling down at the ends. "You weren't using it."
"Because I was rotting away in an icy prison. What was wrong with your sword?"