He shrugs, unconcerned. “My name will mean little if our kingdom does not remain secure. My duty is to the king.”
A loud clap of water against the cliffs captures our attention. A storm is coming.
“So you will never marry?”
His answer is immediate. “I do not plan to do so.”
Why does his answer annoy me so? I decide the wording is what grates on me, not the sentiment, so I say, “The heart does not plan. Love does not adhere to one’s will.”
Vanni looks to the sky and breathes in. The air is more pungent, the winds changing.
“When do you think the storm will arrive?” he asks.
So he will ignore my words about love, ones I should never have uttered. He is a noble. Of course he does not believe in love. Southerners marry for advantage, believing matters of the heart mean very little.
But our traditions are different.
“Soon,” I say.
“I would ask questions of you today. Two, if I may. In exchange, I will grant you answers to two of your own.”
His words startle me. Two questions of me. Aye, I would agree to that.
“Very well.”
“You said you were raised here, in Murwood, with Aldwine. What do you know of him?”
I’ve thought much about this, and while I’d never give away Kipp’s secrets, it’s obvious Vanni already knows about his parentage. Kipp bears no love for the father who cast him aside.
Though King Galfrid has never sent his own Curia here before. That the second-highest-ranking man from court should come . . .
And yet, I cannot outright say what I know, if only because I promised Kipp I’d never speak of it. So I settle for a vague answer.
“I know everything there is to know. We are quite close.”
His eyes widen. “Close?”
I realize he mistook my meaning. For some reason, I feel the need to correct him. “Our parents enjoyed a friendship that saw Kipp and I raised akin to brother and sister.”
“You meet with me to protect him?” he correctly guesses, and I add shrewd to the ever-growing list of Vanni’s traits.
He speaks into the silence that follows his question. “You know of his father?”
“I do.”
“Not the mercenary.”
“Nay, not the mercenary.” I pause. “But the very man you serve.”
His shoulders rise and fall, and for a horrifying moment, I wonder if I’ve misjudged the situation entirely. If he didn’t know. If he was sent out here unwittingly, like the others, to check on Kipp. How could I blurt out one of my most precious secrets as if it were nothing?
“Aldwine has never told anyone before. Rumor of it would have spread far and wide.”
I could weep with relief. “And he’s told no one now, except my family. Kipp does not recognize the king as his father.”
To clear up his confusion, I condemn myself even further. “As I said, his mother and my family were quite close. In town, none other than my grandmother, my father, and me know of Kipp’s true origin.”
He allowed me two questions, but I need only one.
“What do you want of him?”
Vanni considers what to tell me. So I share another secret.
“I have been taught not to trust those in power, and you, the king’s Curia Commander, are such a man.”
The slight lift of his lips on one side shows Vanni’s amusement at my words. They are not meant to be amusing.
“And yet,” I continue, “I told you a most treasured secret, one I have little right to tell.”
“Because you realized I knew it already.”
I shift on the hard rock, bothered less by the discomfort—I’ve sat on this very stone for hours and hours—than by Vanni’s ever-present gaze. Desire, I know, is both natural and necessary. Even so, I’ve never felt more than a twinge of it before.
Yet now, without herbs or stones or words of encouragement or any of the other enticements we use, my body screams for his touch. The longer he looks at me so, the more I wish for it.
“Perhaps.”
“Very well.” He looks out at the increasingly turbulent sea. “You’ll learn soon enough of the events unfolding in the south. Your honesty for my own.”
He sits up and leans slightly toward me. We aren’t touching, but it wouldn’t take much to change that—he need only move slightly forward.
“You know of the fighting along the borders?”
I nod. “Of course.”
Though the Terese River has separated Edingham from Meria since the Treaty of Loigh, formed nearly thirty years after the two kingdoms split, it does little to quell the unrest that has plagued the borders.
“And of the attack on Saitford?”
News of the border town’s trouble has reached us. Although violence along the Meria-Edingham border is not a new occurrence. “Aye.”
Murwood might lie on the north side of the Loigh Mountains, apart from either kingdom, but ships bring not only cargo but news. We know much of what happens in both Meria and Edingham.
“They say a Highlander set fire to it,” I say, “killing a mother and her children in the blaze.”
Vanni is no longer smiling. “More than one mother and her child. The fire, set in the dead of night, claimed nearly half of those who lived in Saitford.”
I shudder, thankful we see little fighting along our shores.
“King Galfrid mounted a retaliatory attack on Edingham.”
“An occurrence as old as the split between the kingdoms.”
He frowns. “This would have seen more than two hundred of his best soldiers near Galmouth Bay.”
Despite myself, I’m drawn in. I’ve not heard of such a sizable attack.
“Would have seen?”
Because I am trained to see emotions more than most, I can already tell Vanni is preparing to share something extremely painful to him.
“A new ship, its captain one of the most renowned in Meria, was commissioned. But it sank not long after leaving the shore.”
A fluttering in my belly intensifies.
“The king’s son was among those who perished. The Prince of Meria is dead.”
My hand rushes to cover my mouth. A quick calculation tells me precisely why Vanni is here. I know of the king’s nephew, whose reputation is as bleak as his father’s. Even those who dislike King Galfrid acknowledge he’s a far better man than his brother. Whereas words like “fair” and “honorable” are used to describe the king, his nephew is known for being treacherous and cruel. Capricious. It’s little wonder the king is so anxious to avoid naming him successor. Which brings me to my next question.
“Is the king prepared to recognize Kipp as his successor?”
My guess is met with a nod. “Aye.”
“He will not do it.” Blurted before I can think better of it, my words don’t seem to surprise Vanni at all.
“I’m told he cares little for his father.”
“For the man who abandoned him and his mother?” I ask. “Nay, he does not.”
“Galfrid loved Aldwine’s mother, and the queen knew it well. She would never have allowed her to remain in d’Almerita. He sent her away with coin and protection. And has not failed in all these years to ensure his well-being.”
“Lord Hinton will be your next king,” I say. It is not a question. Kipp has heard all of those arguments before. None will sway his thinking.
“He cannot be.”
I agree, such a state is not desirable for Meria. Or, truly, for any of us. But Kipp is as stubborn as the king is purported to be. He will never agree to meet with the man, let alone take his crown.
“You’ve been sent on a fool’s errand.”
“Perhaps.”
We fall silent. As Vanni admires the looming Cliffs of Murh, I admire his profile, his strong jaw, now clenched in frustration.
“You visited my father this morn. Why?”
He turns back to me. “Your second question?”
<
br /> “Perhaps.”
“To appease my curiosity.”
“About me?”
“Aye.”
He is a nobleman. A king’s man. A Southerner. Even so, I feel myself being drawn to him. His openness today only makes him more appealing.
“I’ve not met a woman like you before, Aedre.”
His words do little to calm my rapidly beating heart.
“A Garra?”
“Nay. A woman. Garra or no.”
How easy it would be to let myself be charmed by him. Fooled into trusting where I shouldn’t. I look to the dark, roiling sky.
“We should go.”
My words come too late. Two small drops appear on the rock in front of us. We stand as more appear. By the time we climb over the rocks, drops have begun to fall in earnest.
“Take off your boots,” I say, unlacing my own as quickly as I can. I don’t wait to see if Vanni listens to me. I hike up my skirts with one hand and cling to my boots with the other as I run across the sand rather than toward the village.
For this will be no light rain, and the village is much too far for us to reach without getting drenched. Indeed, we should have left the shore much earlier.
When I reach the cave’s entrance, I peer inside, knowing it will be empty but needing to reassure myself of it. Entering, then turning back, I see a very virile Vanni standing under the rocky archway, framed by the angry sea beyond him.
Chapter Twelve
Vanni
This does not bode well.
My thoughts are increasingly absorbed by the woman standing before me, boots in one hand, skirts in another. If our rock perch felt intimate, safe from prying eyes, this seaside cave is even more so.
Which reminds me . . .
“You take too many chances with a stranger,” I warn her. “Leaving the village. Coming to this place.” I place my own boots on a large rock, my sword following it there.
A crack of thunder follows my words, bringing a heavy rain with it.
“Would you prefer for us to be stuck in that?” Aedre adds her own boots to my collection.
Rolling my breeches up, I don’t relent. “For a woman who trusts Southerners so little, you have put yourself in a dangerous position. Being alone with me in here.”
Neither of us move.
“I could rape you.”
“But you will not.”
“Another man might.”
“I’ve seen twenty-five summers without being touched by a man. Surely I can continue to defend myself without your guidance.”
“Never been touched by a man?” I repeat, the words more of a challenge than any I’ve faced with my sword.
“In the way you speak of.”
Ah. Which means . . .
“But you have been kissed?”
Not my question to ask, but I do so anyway.
“’Tis none of your concern.”
Aedre’s annoyance is obvious. Mayhap she resents my meddling, my unwanted warnings. But I suspect there’s more to it.
Another loud crack fills the cave. Although not deep, it’s wide, and the stone overhead high enough to easily accommodate us. Only a few steps would bring me to her.
“I don’t wish to insult you.”
“Would you tell one of your men not to find himself alone with another even for the sake of staying dry?”
I am about to remind her my men are, in fact, men, when I remember her trick with the knife.
“You surprised me once, but it would not happen again.”
Aedre rolls her eyes, obviously annoyed by the discussion.
“You will not rape me, so can we stop speaking of it?”
“And you know this for a fact?”
“Aye.”
“How do you know it?” She is right, of course, but I still wish for her to understand the danger.
“Though a Southerner and a noble, you are also an honorable man.”
She says it with such disgust, as if she wished it were not so, and I laugh.
“You believe so?”
“Aye.”
Aedre doesn’t explain the basis for her judgment, but since her words are indeed accurate, I’ve no argument to give.
Instead, sitting beside my belongings, I say, “Tell me of the Elderman.”
Aedre moves toward me and hikes up her skirts as she takes a seat, giving me a brief glimpse of her bare legs before I look away. When I imagined this journey, not once did I consider the possibility of finding myself trapped in a seaside cave during a raging storm with a beautiful Garra.
“Father Beald is a hateful man who wishes to establish a church here in Murwood.”
“He does not know your history well, then.”
When the kingdoms split, a group of men and women who disagreed with some of the views of King Onry of Meria’s second son came here. Determined not to allow the Prima and his army of religious men to control them as King Onry had, they took to the sea for trade. Only years later, when both kingdoms accepted they would not be able to claim Murwood End as their own after many failed attempts, did they open once again to trade with those who inhabit their own island.
Voyagers were born. Their ties to Meria, Edingham, and certainly to the church, were severed.
“He is a fool. But a dangerous one.”
“How is that?”
It strikes me this is the first time I’ve seen a look of hatred on Aedre’s face. She’s never looked at me this way, not even when we first met.
“He has the ear of the Prima.”
Father Silvester.
From humble beginnings in Galona, he rose through the ranks of the church like an arrow, once even managing to convince the king to award him the port town of Avalon, now the seat of the church in Meria. The man’s ambition is endless. Galfrid dislikes him but is forced to tolerate him. The church’s involvement in both kingdoms has caused more tension than not throughout the years.
“I will speak with him.”
Aedre startles. “Why?”
For a simple reason. “Because he scares you.”
She opens her mouth to argue but then shuts it again. The truth of my words is evident to us both. I’ve no need to ask the reason. Though it’s been some time since the Garra were openly persecuted, their history of harassment at the hands of the church is long and storied.
“I commit no crime here.”
“Nor would you be considered a criminal if you were in Meria. But that does not stop him from harassing you.”
She does not deny my words, which means I am due a stern discussion with this Elderman. While Galfrid is still king, Silvester’s men are not to torment our people. Even the Voyagers of Murwood, who do not recognize any authority beyond their own.
“You cannot do such a thing.”
“I can, and I will.”
As we speak, the rain begins to slow. The beauty of the moment strikes me. Aedre is beside me, framed by the opening of the cave: a wall of water, only sand and sea beyond it.
When I look at Aedre, she is gifting me with a rare smile.
“You think highly of your skills.”
“Just my connection to men your Elderman would rather not anger.” I find it necessary to add, “I am not the enemy, Aedre. I’ve no wish to harm you or your grandmother. You’ll find most Southerners more tolerant than you believe.”
“And some who are not.”
I cannot refute her words.
“You’ve no dishonorable men or women here in Murwood?”
Her chin rises. “Aye. But even the most dishonorable among them understand the danger of being beholden to the whims of kings or Eldermen.”
The rain stops as quickly as it started, but neither of us move. Looking at her here, in the murky light of the cave, the distance between us so small, I wonder again what it would be like to kiss her. She’s been touched by a man before, but how?
Does it matter?
I will leave when Aldwine returns, never to see her again. Surpri
singly, the thought of leaving her untouched, of leaving her forever, is unsettling.
“That very look has gotten young women with babes in their belly.”
Caught by surprise again, I laugh. “Has it now? A fine Garra you are indeed, if you think ’tis done that way.”
I stand, and she does so with me.
“I know how ’tis done,” she says, smiling.
Two smiles in one afternoon. It is a miracle indeed.
“I’ll not deny my desire for you, Aedre. ’Tis plain to see, as you’ve pointed out.”
As is hers for me. I suspected before, but now I’m sure.
“And yet, you restrain yourself. ’Tis why I knew I would be safe with you in here. You’ve looked at me thus since the first time we met. But we’ve been alone before, and you’ve never once tried anything.”
Her forthrightness only makes her more desirable.
I take out a coin purse and move toward her. “Will you meet me on the morrow? I’ve gotten to know much of Murwood from our meetings.”
I take her hand. Aedre does not pull it away.
Unprepared for the spark such innocent contact ignites, I place the small bag in her palm and step back as if scorched.
“You do not need me,” she says softly.
She’s wrong. So very wrong.
I’ve lived only to serve Galfrid these many years. But being with Aedre reminds me of what I’ve given up . . . a life of my own.
“Help me gain an audience with him.”
Aedre moves past me to take hold of her boots. My eyes linger on her backside, but I glance away quickly as she turns.
“He will be wroth with me for it.”
“I know you care little for Meria, but you are a healer, Aedre. Your nature is to help people. If Lord Hinton becomes king, all will suffer.”
I remember one fact about the sinking which we did not discuss earlier.
“He was on the ship that day. The king’s nephew. He was to sail with it, but after too much revelry the eve before, the simple act of standing on deck was too much for him. Before it went to sea, Hinton disembarked. The church, seeing his survival as a sign he should be named as successor, immediately offered him their support. I left only days after the king’s son perished, but already word of Hinton as the church’s chosen one had spread.”
The King's Commander (Kingdoms of Meria Book 1) Page 6