I repeat his man’s words. “Mayhap she believes such things because she is not comely.”
“I informed my men we had a companion,” he says with a smile. “And they caught on quickly.”
So it was all a ruse.
“Do you enjoy sporting with women so, Lord d’Abella?”
In answer, he leans back, crossing his legs in front of him.
“As I said Aedre, ’tis not our way to insult strangers, and I cannot answer that question without causing offense to you.”
He could say my name over and over and over again, and I’d not tire of hearing it.
“So ’tis true,” I say. “You are a cruel man, indeed.”
His smile remains.
“I do enjoy sporting with women. As they enjoy sporting with me. But surely you would not decry finding pleasure in the act. As a Garra.”
He drinks, clearly pleased with himself. His men are likely listening to every word we speak, so I do not indulge him. My thoughts on the pleasure between a man and a woman are mine alone.
Although I do have thoughts, and plenty of them, on the matter.
“I did not mean sporting of a sexual nature, as you well know.”
“My apologies, my lady. I am a sexual creature and find such thoughts too often occupy me. Perhaps you can help me find a cure?”
While I could offer such help, and have done so before as a Garra, I do not for one moment believe he is doing anything other than . . .
Sporting?
Teasing?
Oh dear. Truly it does not matter. I did not come here to flirt with the man but to learn more of his intentions toward Kipp.
“I could, but will not.”
“Mmm. ’Tis a shame. Perhaps I could be persuaded to tell you more of our mission here if you were to allow me to retain your services.”
My mouth forms into a wide O, my jaw nearly dropping to the ground.
“You would not?”
I say it even though I very much believe he would hold his purpose here hostage.
“Aye,” he says. “I would.”
My mind works quickly. As much as I would like to gain access to his information, I could never agree to such an outrageous proposal.
First, he has no actual ailment, only a contrived one.
Second, my father would never agree to it.
Third, his intentions are not clear to me.
“Why do you make such an offer?”
Is he a lecher after all? I do not believe so, but what other reason could he have? The commander has no way of knowing I am aware of the circumstances of Kipp’s birth. Few people are aware the king has a bastard son, although he has clearly informed his Curia. If the commander is not using me to gain access to Kipp, why does he want me to treat an ailment he does not possess?
“You intrigue me,” he says.
I watch for signs of ill intent. Of dishonesty.
But he does not look away. Nor does he use his hands overly much after saying those words that set my heart to racing. His voice is strong, his eyes equally so.
“I do not like you.” While not a lie, it is also not precisely the truth.
“Perhaps one of the reasons I am intrigued,” he says, his lips tipping up.
“Nor do I believe you need treatment.”
“There is but one way for you to find out.”
Father will kill me.
“My fee is high.”
“I will pay it.”
“Why?” I ask again.
The commander leans forward, putting his ale on the table between us. “You looked me in the eyes the moment we met.”
True enough. Then again, I do not believe it is a sin to do so. Despite what the church teaches, the mere act of looking directly into a man’s eyes cannot tempt him into sin. And if it were possible, it would be a mark of the man’s weak character.
“And I do so now,” I prod.
“Indeed.”
I can hear my very heartbeat in my ears as we look at each other. In the end, there is but one answer.
I need to find out more information for Kipp.
Or so I tell myself.
“I will do it. But you must tell me why you are here.”
His men grow silent, proof that they’ve been listening to our conversation despite their chatter.
“I’ll answer one of your questions each time we meet,” he offers.
“About your reasons for being in Murwood End?”
“Aye. One each visit.”
I empty my ale, stand, and say, “Very well. Then we shall meet here tomorrow at this time.”
The bargain is one that favors me. Vanni d’Abella will get nothing from it he does not already have. So why do I feel like I’m about to lose everything?
Chapter Six
Vanni
“’Tis a foolish plan.”
The others have retired to the private quarters provided by the innkeeper. Only Sir Thomas and I remain in the common room, though I’m beginning to regret the decision to stay for one more ale.
“You’ve a better one?”
As the night wears on, the crowd decidedly more bawdy than before, I ignore the urge to engage with those who watch us. If we’re to stay in Murwood End to await Master Aldwine’s return, we must not engage in battle with the people here. But one man in particular, who’s been watching us all eve, his jaw tight with aggression, makes my fingers twitch.
“Than seeking treatment by a Garra for a made-up condition so you can gain information that will give us access to the boy? Aye. We intercept him on his return.”
There was no mention of her being a Garra, but if this is the same woman rumored to be as a sister to Aldwine, I may gain more than just information. But I could be wrong and will keep the thought to myself.
Thomas, a good friend in addition to his role as Knight Commander in the Curia, raises his hand to the maid, whom we’ve learned is the innkeeper’s daughter. Comely, perhaps having seen twenty or so summers, she appears, like most women, to have fallen for Thomas’s charms.
“Ale, my lord?”
“He is the only lord here, mistress. I am but a humble servant of the king.”
“Humble servant indeed,” I mutter. The irony is not lost on me. He may be pressing me about Aedre, but he’s a merciless flirt.
The maid smiles coyly at Thomas as she walks away.
“Careful, Thomas,” I say. “If we’re to stay here, you’d do well not to dip your oar in that water.”
“Says the man who’s meeting the Garra for no good reason.”
True enough.
“Does she so freely practice here without repercussion?” he asks.
“Apparently.”
Thomas’s maid returns with his ale, and while he speaks with her, I think of Aedre. Did she agree to meet me simply for coin? Or did I detect a hint of attraction from her?
“I don’t like it.” Thomas, finished with the maid, leans forward. “Hinton will be gathering support even now. And yet we sit here, idle, doing naught about it.”
“Naught but securing the one man who can challenge his claim.”
I wave my hand, ignoring my drunken foe, who’s looking at me even now.
“This is the most important battleground, Thomas. If we leave here without him . . .”
I drink to avoid finishing that thought. If we leave here without him, Meria is doomed to be ruled by a cruel and inept king. A man who cares for naught but securing the power his father, the king’s brother, was never able to claim. Of course, King Galfrid could name another heir. Some distant kin with tenuous ties to the royal family. But Hinton has a silver tongue that belies his base nature. Some men care more for advancing their own positions than they do for the good of the realm. And those men will be easily swayed by his lofty promises. He will rule unlike any of the kings of Meria before him, and all will be worse off for it.
It is true none know firsthand the true measure of Kipp Aldwine, but from reports Galfrid has gathered th
roughout the years, we know he is both strong and honorable. A man unlike Hinton.
“To think Edingham was our biggest threat mere months ago,” I muse. Now, those skirmishes along the border seem inconsequential compared to the chaos our kingdom will endure if this mission fails.
“If the boy refuses to come, Hinton cannot be the answer.”
Though he speaks the words softly, I shake my head. This is not the place to discuss such matters as a vision of Matteo, the man who should have been king, flashes before me.
Once again, I feel the strange pang of knowing I could have been on that boat.
Pushing the thoughts back down, I say, “He is no boy. Master Aldwine has seen more than thirty summers.”
Galfrid still speaks of him as the babe he sent away those many years ago, but Kipp Aldwine is a strong, capable man. From what we’ve heard in the south, he’s reputedly the fiercest of all Voyagers.
“Also not a boy? Your opponent this evening.”
I’m not surprised Thomas has taken notice of the man as well. And he’s right to do so. If we are to stay in Murwood End, the vitriol he’s sending our way, stares that are becoming harder to ignore, cannot be tolerated. It will only encourage bad behavior.
“Shall I get the others?”
“Nay.”
I stand.
“Christ’s body,” Thomas mutters behind me.
Unwilling to spill blood in the very place we’re taking shelter, I break eye contact with the man and stride out the door. The smell of sea air, more crisp than in the south, welcomes me. The docks are dark, quiet, and largely empty, though the moon provides enough light for me to see my adversary as he strides out the door after me.
“Southerner.” He spits on the ground in front of me.
“A king’s man,” one of his companions warns, as if to dissuade him. At least one of the local men has some wits about him.
“The king’s commander,” Thomas informs them both. If he intended for the words to caution the man, they seem to have the opposite effect. He unsheathes his sword.
I sigh. Loudly.
“We have no king here.” He spits again and advances, barely waiting for me to unsheathe my own weapon before raising his against me.
If I were not so weary from travel, I might have enjoyed a bit of sport. But this has been a long day, one I’m ready to end.
So instead of engaging with him, I simply wait for his thrust. When it comes, I rebuff it, knocking his sword from his hand after just three attempts. Not an easy feat given his size and strength, but unlike my opponent, my intent was not to harm or maim.
Sword tip pointed to his neck, I back away, addressing the small crowd that has gathered.
“I am Lord Vanni d’Abella, Curia Commander to King Galfrid. Aye, a Southerner. But I’ve no fight with you. Our purpose here is a peaceful one.”
I pull away, sheathing my sword, and reach for my opponent’s hand.
And wait.
Finally, to a round of cheers, he shakes it. Thomas hands the man his sword.
“I have no fight with you,” I repeat.
He responds by snatching his sword and thanking Thomas with a scowl. But my purpose has been served. Although not as fruitful as I would have liked, the day was hardly a disaster.
“Come. ’Tis time to find our beds.”
Thomas follows me back into the inn’s small hall, and I take a deep, calming breath, giving silent thanks no blood was shed this night.
Chapter Seven
Aedre
“Amma!” I sit up in my bed, surprised to see her in my chamber so early. My grandmother has never been an early riser.
“Good morn, my child.”
Though she uses the term each day, I smile every time. Opening the shutters, she moves toward my bed and sits. Amma moves more slowly of late, and it worries me.
“You spoke to your father last eve?”
Though our manor house is no castle, it is large enough to provide ample room for my father and me, my grandmother, and one maidservant. It is a comfortable home, the only one I’ve known.
“Aye.”
It was not a pleasant conversation, especially since I had to tell him I’d not be at the forge today. Balancing apprenticing for him and training with Amma has been a lifelong struggle, and one that I very much long to end.
“He was not happy, but I secured two bushels of grain from Lord Bailor for easing his joints, so Father was much appeased.”
“You kept the mixture in the pot until ’twas deep red?”
I throw off the coverlet and rise from the bed.
“Aye, Amma. And used hallowleek as well.”
“Oh?”
Plump, grey-haired, and always smiling, Amma is the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I look at her now as she waits for me to answer. For a moment, I’m overcome with a feeling of abundance. She’s so much more than a grandmother to me—she’s a friend and adviser. A teacher. What would I do without her?
Such silly thoughts this morn. Though no sillier than those I had as I laid my head down to sleep. The dark-haired commander refused to go away, even in my dreams.
I make my way to the basin on the table and pick up the cloth that sits beside it. “Do you remember the book Agnar brought back from his last voyage? From the healer in Stoughrock who told him of the hallowleek?”
Amma nods. “I remember.”
“I believe it worked, but will check on Lord Bailor today.”
“Agnar is in love with you, Aedre.”
My hand freezes over the bowl of lavender-scented water.
“Nay. He is but a friend.”
“Aedre?”
“Very well,” I admit. “Still, he is but a friend.” I resume my ministrations, running the wet cloth along my forearm.
“Your father is becoming impatient.”
I know it well.
“I’ve seen just twenty-five summers. Not an old maid . . .”
“But neither a youngin.”
Finished, I slip on a new shift.
“I will marry for love or not at all.”
Amma knows this, so I wonder what has prompted this discussion.
“He blames me for that sentiment.”
I hate when she frowns so. It doesn’t fit her usual disposition.
“And yet, he loves you well.”
Father may wish Amma weren’t training me to be a Garra, a title given only to those with both the blood and training, but he loves us both. Just as he did my mother.
A Garra would never marry a man without love, for she knows the consequences all too well.
“Hmph. So tell me of the commander.”
Wincing, I open my trunk and stare at the gowns stored within it.
“Aedre?”
Pulling out a simple one of deep blue, I close the trunk and shake out the fabric, laying it across the top. A breeze from the open window blows a strand of hair onto my face. Brushing it away, I sit in the wooden chair opposite my grandmother.
“So you already heard about him,” I ask.
Amma knows everything that happens in Murwood End, perhaps even more so than Father. Though I planned to tell her about Lord d’Abella, I wanted to gather my wits about me first.
“You spoke with him?” she presses.
“I did. He shared little of his purpose for being here, so I snuck into Sailor’s Inn and listened to his men. Overheard them speaking of Kipp.”
Amma’s eyes widen.
“Of Kipp?”
She is as protective of him as I am. When Kipp’s mother was cast out of Castle d’Almerita with him, the king’s babe, she made her way here, to Murwood End. My amma and Kipp’s mother grew very close. Eventually, she married the mercenary who’d accompanied her here. I saw less of Kipp in those years as he traveled often with his father, but his mother fell ill and died. Our shared pain over being motherless brought us closer again.
“Aye. They said, ‘His instructions were clear. We don’t return without him.�
��”
My grandmother crosses herself. She is not an overly religious woman, preferring the teachings of her ancestors to the church’s increasingly zealous guidance. The Shadow Warriors, men who fight for the church, are as feared here in Murwood as they are in the south. At times they’ve been used against both kingdoms when the church disagrees with their edicts. Other times, they fight for the people. Some see them as a force of good against evil, but others dislike their blind devotion to the Prima.
“Why does the king send for him?”
“I do not know but aim to find out. The commander caught me listening to his men, teased me for it, and said he could use a Garra to treat his overly amorous ways. So”—I forge ahead—“I agreed to it. I’m to meet with him this afternoon.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her response.
“Does he truly suffer from such an affliction?”
My heart races at the question. At the thought of meeting him again.
“Nay.”
“What is his intention with you?”
Warmth floods my cheeks.
“He is attracted to you.”
“I believe so.”
Father would forbid such a dangerous arrangement. The very idea of spending time with a man who thinks of me in that way, especially one who has shown a clear disdain for capable women . . .
But it is a risk I will gladly take, for Kipp.
And because you’re attracted to him too, insists a traitorous voice in my head.
“You will meet in a crowded place.”
“Of course.”
“Noblemen cannot be trusted, my child, whether they be from the south or the east. You know what you are.”
“I know it well.”
The lessons of our ancestors, one of whom was killed by such a lord for her skills, linger. That we should be so feared for remedies that can be found within nature, within ourselves, once confused me. But no longer. I see now that as Garra learn, and become stronger, they begin to transcend what can be explained in the natural world alone.
“Most especially a Curia commander. But you must go.”
“Aye,” I agree, “I must.”
She stands, with some struggle. I leap forward to help, but she shoves my hand away. Amma will not allow any to coddle her, even me.
The King's Commander (Kingdoms of Meria Book 1) Page 3