From Darkness Won Read Online Free PDF

the distance between the vineyard and the cottages when two women and a man stepped out onto the road. One of the women squealed and started to run toward them. As she neared, her short, curvy form and chestnut hair came into view.
    Gren.
     
     

2
     
    Gren collided against Achan in a combination of tackle and hug. He caught her, staggering back to keep upright and wincing as his thigh and shoulder screamed. He breathed in her familiar smell of cinnamon and bitter fulling water.
    She looked no different but for her black dress, mourning for her deceased husband. Chestnut hair tied back in a braid that hung past her waist, freckled skin, deep brown eyes framed with thick eyelashes. Her figure had not changed. No lump yet to announce the child growing within.
    Achan’s chest heaved with a torrent of emotion. He fought it back, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her forehead, a brotherly gesture he forced himself to enact. “Gren, you look radiant. How have you been?”
    She didn’t seem a bit bothered by his controlled affection. “Terrible.” She peeked at Bran, and a rosy flush crept over her cheeks. “Oh, I’m not complaining, Master Rennan. You’ve been so kind.” She looked back to Achan. “It’s just that people here think horrible things about me.”
    Achan held out his arm, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t know to accept it. “Might I visit your home? I should like to pay my respects to your parents.”
    “Of course.” Gren pointed down the road. “Mother is just there.”
    Achan glanced up to see Gren’s mother crossing the distance toward them. Sir Rigil, the knight Bran squired for, walked at her side. Again Achan offered his arm to Gren, then gave up and took her hand. “Let us save your mother some walking.” He tugged her toward her mother, who was now jogging, arms outstretched.
    Madam Fenny’s fierce hug threatened to squeeze out his lunch. She slowly let go, stroking the back of his head, the sides of his face. “Dear boy. How the gods deceived us all.” She took his hands in hers and stepped back. “My, how handsome you look. Gren, doesn’t he look handsome?”
    “I’ve always thought so.” Gren smiled. “What a fashionable beard too. You’ve given up shaving?”
    Achan grinned at the memory of Gren giving him his first shave after he had nearly killed himself trying. “It’s but a mask, I’m afraid. To hide the marks Esek left on me, though I fear it fails.” Esek had used Ôwr, Achan’s father’s sword, to cut a long gash on each of Achan’s cheeks. The beard—nothing more than a short dusting of hair—managed to hide the humiliating scars somewhat.
    Gren scowled. “That horrible man.”
    “Perhaps we should move this visit to the Fenny cottage,” Sir Rigil said. “That would be most proper.” He was dressed impeccably in a dark blue and black doublet, his hair and beard were trimmed short, but something about his swagger and grin reminded Achan of a marauder.
    Achan nodded. “Thank you, Sir Rigil.”
    “Oh!” Gren’s mother clapped her hands to her face. “But Jespa will be cross if Grendolyn is late.”
    “Bran can send word.” Sir Rigil raised an eyebrow in Bran’s direction. “Run tell Jespa the Crown Prince requested a visit with the Fenny family.”
    “Yes, sir.” Bran bowed, cast a longing look at Gren, then turned and walked back toward the stronghold.
    Sir Rigil led the way to the Fennys’ cottage. It was a bit larger than their home in Sitna had been, but didn’t look all that different. It was strange to see their old table and chairs in a different home. Master Fenny greeted Achan like a long lost son, then he and Madam Fenny made excuses and left. Sir Rigil urged Shung to join him outside the front door.
    Which left Achan and Gren alone. Achan marveled at the irony. The last time he and Gren had been alone in the Fenny home, they’d been scolded. Clearly Achan’s station had changed enough that Master Fenny would give him