They passed into a narrow hallway with a low ceiling he could easily touch without fully extending his arm. The castle smelled strongly of mildew and dogs. Atul led them over a wet stone floor covered in soggy rushes to the end of the hall and up a spiral stairwell that Achan guessed to be the rear tower.
On the second floor, they walked down a hall and passed a half dozen open doors to a great hall on the right. At the end of the hall, Atul opened a door on the left and they entered a warm receiving room, blanketed in damp tapestries.
A thin man with a face like a possum slouched on a throne-like chair opposite the door. He had fine grey hair, a large nose, and beady black eyes. Twin dogs-as big as colts-flanked the chair with better posture than their master. They were beige, with short fur and black faces.
Achan reached out to the one on the left. Hey, boy. The dog's eyes shifted to Achan's, his jaw dropped, he licked his mouth, and shifted.
Atul closed the door. "Your Highness, this here's Lord Yarden, Lord of Mitspah."
Lord Yarden nodded, slowly. His version of a bow? "I am relieved to see you well. We hear rumors, but facts come to me so late. Only two weeks have passed since word of this treachery with Lord Nathak reached me. I feared the worst."
Achan didn't want to do the talking, but it was time he started speaking for himself. "I'm well, Lord Yarden, though we do come bearing great sorrow."
"Go on," Lord Yarden said.
"While we were at Lytton Hall, Esek Nathak, the traitor prince, murdered Lord Livna."
Lord Yarden jumped to his feet. "What? How?"
"Stabbed during the dinner celebration."
"In front of witnesses? This is outrageous!" Lord Yarden said. "My poor, dear sister. What happened? Did they duel?"
Trust you to not to mince words, Your Highness, Sir Caleb said.
Achan had merely wanted to speak. He hadn't bothered to think of what he should say. I'm not as flowery as you, Sir Caleb.
Clearly, just don't forget compassion.
Achan chastened himself and went to his knees before Lord Yarden's throne. "The fault is mine entirely. Esek sought to kill me, but Lord Livna would not give me up. A servant boy was also lost that night-to poison intended for me."
Lord Yarden set a hand on Achan's shoulder. "Do not kneel before me, Your Highness, please. Esek is a traitor."
Achan looked up. "Still, I feel quite responsible."
"A concern you must push aside, Your Majesty. Had you been staying here, I would not have forsaken you either. Blame no one but that murderous fool who thinks he's king."
Achan stood, and Lord Yarden eased back into his chair, eyes downcast.
"Would you be willing to join us as we stand against him?" Sir Gavin asked. "He hunts us now. We do not wish to put your people in harm's way."
"I'd fight that cur even if no one else was! My son will want to fight as well. We are not many, but we'll stand with you." He turned to Atul. "Prepare rooms for the prince and his men, Atul, and arrange a feast."
"Right away, m' lord." Atul jerked his head in a quick nod and strode from the room.
*
Vrell sat at the back of the great hall with Kurtz, as she had in Tsaftown, assigned to entrance duty. Achan and the knights had been seated at the high table, though Achan, Shung, and Sir Caleb were standing, appearing to argue with Lord Yarden.
Cole, the young stray who'd taken care of their horses, stood against the wall, face pale. Since all three minds in her party were shielded, she looked through the boy's mind to listen in and found him filled with excitement, hope, and…dread?
The prince's nostrils flared. "I appreciate your gift, Lord Yarden, but no more innocents will die from my cup. Perhaps I could make use of Cole as a stableboy, as I have no one to help me with my horses."
Yes. Hope surged through Cole. He could do that, for sure. He could take care of Dove. He dared not hope this could be true. That he could serve the prince-a kind one too.
Lord Yarden looked down his huge nose at Cole and shrugged. "I care not what you do with the stray. I just don't want to see you poisoned, especially under my roof. I've done what I could to prevent it. You just take note of that."
"Shung will drink and eat for the little cham." The Shield banged a fist to his chest. He seemed almost eager to take some poison as if to prove he were strong enough to withstand it.
Cole wished he were as brave, but he'd heard rumors that a boy had died in Tsaftown, drinking from his Majesty's cup.
The prince glared at Shung. "I will not allow it."
Vrell shook her head and withdrew. Men. Achan stood no chance of negating Shung. When that's man's mind was made up…look out. At least people would think twice before challenging Achan with Shung at his side. Vrell smiled. Achan now had his own Shield, and, apparently, a horse boy.
To Vrell's relief, she did not have to make small talk with Kurtz. He poured all his attention on the blonde woman seated to his right, even feeding the lady food off the tip of his knife. Vrell tried to distract herself, but his overt declarations were hard to ignore.
"Arman give you health and joy, beautiful lady. He favors me tonight with your company, He does."
The lady batted her eyes and twirled her finger around a lock of her golden hair. "I apologize for the absence of my husband. He is a sailor aboard the Brierstar."
"He's a fool to leave you, he is." Kurtz leaned so close he may as well kiss the woman. "I would never. For if I turned my back on such a pretty face as yours, surely I'd die, I would."
The woman's cheeks flushed. "You flatter me, my lord."
"I love you, I do. Have mercy on my bleeding heart, eh?"
Vrell bit into her roll to hold her tongue.
The lady giggled. "Do not forget, good knight, I am married. Please do not ask anything of me that would soil the honor of myself or my lord husband."
Sir Kurtz lowered his voice. "Nothing would keep me from serving you all my life."
Vrell rolled her eyes. Dinner had long since ended, but Lord Yarden's wife liked to tell stories. Vrell had eaten in this hall before. All were forced to endure Lady Rubel until her husband ended it or she got so full she needed to lie down.
Unfortunately, Lord Yarden never seemed to tire of hearing the same tale time and again. Perhaps it was Lady Rubel's low, silky voice or the fact that her curvy figure drew even Vrell's attention. The woman had Chuma heritage; that could not be argued. Her black hair hung lustrous against her olive skin. She rambled on and on about how they had ordered cranberry wine but the spicy clove wine had come instead.
Vrell had never cared for clove wine. Wine should be sweet, not spicy. But no servant had bothered to bring water to her end of the table, so she had forced herself to drink the pungent liquid to wash down the dry fish. The best platters of everything always went to the high table. It would not be long until she had that pleasure again.
Vrell stared at a hound and a small terrier, watching them duck in and out from under the table opposite hers, sniffing and nibbling along the floor. The person sitting across the hall, opposite Vrell, had not moved in a long while. She blinked out of her trance and focused her eyes to the further distance.
It was Polk, and he was staring at her.
She straightened and gave him a half smile and a roll of the eyes. He must be equally bored by the tale of wine flavors. But instead of smiling in return, Polk lifted up the knife from his empty trencher and began to twirl it in his fingers.
Vrell had no more patience for men and their strange ways. Achan did not need her assistance. She slipped out the closest door, doubting anyone had noticed. She walked carefully over the wet floor and started up the stairwell. Sir Gavin had seen to it she had her own chamber on the fourth floor, and she looked forward to a bath.