The King's Commander (Kingdoms of Meria Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “Despite the man’s nature?”

  If she is incredulous, we were as much so.

  “You know their teachings as well as I. They claim God’s will can only be interpreted through signs they alone can read. They consider this the ultimate sign of his will: sparing a man who should have perished.”

  She watches me for any glimmer of deceit. But there is none.

  “I ask just for an audience.”

  “And if he refuses to leave with you?”

  “Then we go without him. We’ve no edict to force him, nor would our interests be served in doing so. No man can be made to accept the crown.”

  “How can you know what kind of king he would be?”

  The question is an easy one to answer. “Galfrid has kept watch over him for many years. Would you deny he’d make a good king to Meria?”

  Wetting her lips, though an innocent gesture, makes me forget for a moment about my mission, my attention snared by the possibility that Aedre may allow me to kiss her before I leave Murwood.

  Just once.

  It is a weakness I never knew existed in me. Every one of my previous dalliances has been with widows or women not tied to the precarious strings of nobility. Never have I compromised a woman before, or even considered doing so. Perhaps this weakness was simply waiting for Aedre to release it.

  “Nay, I cannot deny it. Very well.”

  My jaw drops. I’d not expected her to agree so easily.

  “But there is no longer any need for us to meet. You need nothing else from me, except this one boon. Which I grant as a grateful gesture for your offer to speak to the Elderman.”

  I’m grateful for her agreement, less so for her decision to no longer meet with me.

  We stare at each other for a moment, so close it would be an easy thing to pull her to me, but I don’t. The moment passes, and Aedre flees from the cave as quickly as she did from the rock by the shore.

  I decide her habit of fleeing is not my favorite thing about her.

  You do not need me.

  True or not, it matters little. Aedre has spoken, and I’ve little else to do but heed her words. Though I have gained something extremely valuable this day, an audience with the future king of Meria.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aedre

  “Do you suppose it will work?”

  I hand the mixture to the midwife and bid her to drink it.

  “Better than placing fish inside you. Where did you learn such nonsense?”

  My friend Aloisa has a sheepish look. She’s only been the town midwife for less than a year. Before her mother’s death, she didn’t show much interest in the calling, but she’s since become a fine midwife. Except for her belief in tall tales.

  “You know more about women’s bodies than most. Can you not see ’tis a silly notion?”

  Aloisa drank the mixture I gave her and placed the empty cup on the table next to her. She and her husband share a modest two-story, timber-framed cottage right in the very center of the village, but a short walk for me. And so we visit each other often.

  But this is no casual meeting.

  When Aloisa first told me she was having difficulty becoming pregnant, I was more surprised than I should have been. If I can practice as a Garra, never having been in love myself, then surely a midwife could have difficulty with the very thing she practices every day.

  “’Tis not magic, Aloisa, as well you know. The mixture will simply relax you, for I’m sure your worry is not easing matters.”

  Amma believes pleasure during sexual relations is not a sin. And that it can even be beneficial to conception. Aloisa is likely too overwhelmed by her concerns to find any joy in the act, and I’m hopeful the mixture I’ve given her will indeed help.

  “A fish . . . ,” I begin.

  The very idea.

  “Aedre.” Aloisa’s husband opens the door and steps inside. A fisherman, he most often does not return home until much later in the evening. But the storm that arrived yesterday has lingered. It is raining even now, so I put up my hood before venturing outside.

  “Are you well?” I ask.

  “Well indeed.” He stops me as I make to leave. “You may wish to wait, the rain will be coming down harder soon.”

  Though I adore them both, I do not wish to be trapped here all eve, nor does Aloisa wish it, I suspect, from the way she is looking at her husband.

  Offering a silent blessing, I make toward the door.

  “Then I shall hurry. Good eve to you both.”

  Closing the door behind me, I walk quickly.

  But not quickly enough. Just as I pass Sailor’s Inn, the rain falls as heavily as if someone were standing above me pouring brimming buckets over my head.

  Ducking inside the tavern portion of the inn, I wonder if I made the best choice. Will it indeed rain all eve? If so, I shall simply walk home after a quick meal, resigned to remain wet.

  I turn, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of candles and few lanterns, the shutters closed to ward off the rain. Then I make my way to the back of the great room and sit on a stool at the long board. I’m not far from the table where I sat with Vanni.

  “Beef stew for ya, Aedre girl?”

  The innkeeper himself slides a mug of ale toward me without asking. Father and I have come here many times throughout the years, the owner Neill, having been a friend of his since childhood.

  “Aye, if it pleases you.”

  “Pleases me plenty.” The old man shuffles off, leaving me to my thoughts, but is back again before long.

  “Our finest bowl of stew, my lady.”

  “Many thanks.” I toss two coins onto the board. “’Tis less crowded than I’d have thought, with the rain.”

  Instead of answering, Neill looks behind me. So I turn, my heart thumping with the hope that Vanni might be behind me. But I groan as soon as I see the man making his way toward me.

  “Father Beald.”

  “A woman alone in an establishment such as this would be heartily frowned upon in many places,” he comments, giving me a look full of judgment.

  I glance around for Neill, but I’m not the only one who dislikes the Elderman. He’s nowhere to be seen. I’ve been left to ward off the Elderman myself.

  “Much like a man of God who preaches love and spews hate.”

  I’ve attempted in the past to garner the man’s favor despite his obvious dislike for me, but no honeyed words can overcome blind hatred. I had long ago stopped trying.

  His smirk makes my blood run cold.

  “You’ve left Murwood End to learn the truth of your words?”

  I’ve not. And he knows it well.

  Leaning toward me, he whispers for my ears alone. “I’ve visited your grandmother. The great Lady Edrys did not appear very well. Such a shame. So few Garra remain. I shouldn’t be surprised if there’s one less one day soon.”

  Tensing, I do not even attempt to hide the anger that courses through me.

  “You are an evil man.”

  He does not seem the least bit bothered by my words.

  “The only evil here, Lady Aedre, is a brazen woman who preaches pleasure. Who caters to the devil’s whims, flaunting herself as if proud. And proud of what? You are less than nothing.”

  I want to flee. To rid myself of his presence. But I can’t allow him that victory. So I turn back to my ale as if his words do not make me want to toss the contents of my mug in his face.

  After a moment, no longer able to feel his cloying presence next to me, I glance over my shoulder, wholly unprepared to see Vanni standing between us.

  He says something to the Elderman, who, with one final glare back at me, turns to leave. It comes as little surprise when Vanni follows him out.

  Attempting to steady my hands, which are still shaking, I take a drink. And another. Only when a second ale is placed in front of me, Neill apologizing for leaving when he sees my face, does Vanni return. He does not say a word but rather nods to the table where we sat seve
ral days earlier, one affording more privacy.

  “That will be the last time Father Beald speaks to you again.”

  I’m not prepared for the controlled anger that simmers beneath the surface of his words. But then, neither am I prepared for another conversation with the man I’ve thought about nearly every moment since leaving that cave.

  Vanni sits and leans forward across the table.

  “Tell me what he said to you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vanni

  This was the closest I’ve come to injuring a man of God.

  I fought a Shadow Warrior once, a guest of Castle d’Almerita. Though Father Aiken arrived with the Prima, I immediately sensed something different about him. While many of the Eldermen and their warriors shared their leader’s extreme views, this one held his tongue during his time as the king’s guest.

  Father Aiken and I challenged each other each day of his visit. He defeated me the first day. And I him, on the second.

  As I got to know the man, I found there was little to dislike. Our beliefs were different, but he was a good, honorable man, and one of the best warriors I’d ever had the pleasure of fighting.

  So I know there are good men and bad in the church. But I am equally certain Father Beald belongs to the latter group. He is no warrior, however, so I could not challenge him as I did Father Aiken. I had to use words, and the ones I chose were sharper than any blade. The Elderman, as I said to Aedre, promised never again to return to Murwood End.

  “How did you know he was bothering me?”

  I take a deep, steadying breath. So much for my reputation for even temperament. Still angry, I remind myself it is over. He won’t bother her again.

  “I saw you as soon as I came in.”

  I don’t tell her that it was as if I felt her presence. Nonsense, of course, but I was not surprised to see her here.

  “Your expression.”

  Aedre says nothing but pulls her ale closer.

  “What did he say to you?”

  I drink, waiting for her answer. It takes a moment for her to speak.

  “‘I’ve visited your grandmother,’” she finally says, her voice cracking. “‘The great Lady Edrys did not appear very well. Such a shame. So few Garra remain. I shouldn’t be surprised if there’s one less one day soon.’”

  I almost regret making her repeat it.

  “Aedre . . .”

  Wanting to comfort her, knowing I cannot, I choose instead to explain my own exchange with Father Beald. I glance around before speaking, but no one is paying us any mind. Our table is at a distance from the others, as intimate a setting as possible in the midst of a small hall.

  “King Galfrid has little patience for Father Silvester.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Their relationship has been strained for years, and it will only worsen if the church attempts to interfere in the naming of a successor.”

  “Their recommendation of Lord Hinton, you mean.”

  “Aye. But even so, Silvester needs the king’s support, and for the time being that king is still Galfrid. He’s threatened to take away Avalon before. Nearly did so last winter. I simply reminded Beald of my position at court and of Galfrid and Silvester’s tenuous relationship.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “The king would excommunicate the Prima from Meria?”

  I pause, looking at her stew. After a long day of training, more and more locals challenging me in wake of my defeat of Agnar, the smell prompts me to ask for a bowl as well as a serving maid walks by.

  “Eat,” I say when she pauses.

  Aedre picks up the pewter spoon, and I try not to watch her lips too closely as they open. Imagine, to be jealous of a beef stew. Shifting in my seat, I force my eyes upward.

  Since she sees me clearly, I don’t hide the direction of my thoughts.

  “What were we discussing?” I say.

  Amused, she takes another bite of stew.

  “Ah, yes.” I lower my voice, even though we sit at a distance from any others. The shutters are closed, but the sound of heavy rain still penetrates. A low murmur of conversation and the fire in the hearth make this particular inn, and this moment, more peaceful a setting than I’d imagined I would find in Murwood End.

  As a boy, this place seemed ominous, almost scary to me. Now, it holds a tantalizing feeling of possibility. The people here are notoriously fierce, independent, and wary of strangers, this particular woman more so than most. I’d expected to be here for a very short time, wishing every moment to leave.

  Now, I’d prefer to be here than any other place on the Isle.

  “We were discussing nothing more than the excommunication of the Prima from Meria,” I continue, shaking myself from my thoughts.

  “Just so.”

  My own stew arrives, and I thank the serving girl for it.

  “To answer your question, aye, he would. I simply reminded Beald of the situation, hinted that he would learn of further discord in coming days, and asked if he really wished to contribute to faltering relations.”

  Finally, she pushes her bowl away. “You threatened him.”

  “Aye.”

  “Because of me.”

  I finish chewing. A fine stew, though different than what I’m accustomed to.

  “Aye, because of you. Because I dislike the man. And because Galfrid would be as intolerant of him as I am.”

  She seems surprised to hear it. Aedre thinks little of the king, a fact which I hope to alter.

  “You believe so?”

  “I know it. You accused me of antiquated notions, and perhaps the role of women here is different than in the south. But neither Galfrid nor I tolerate injustice. He is an honorable man, Aedre. Why do you think so little of him?”

  I eat, content to listen to her explanation.

  “He allowed his wife to cast out his son to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. A father who abandons his child can have no redemption in my eyes.”

  Reminded of her close friendship to Aldwine, I choose my words carefully.

  “For his own protection. The queen is not known for her tolerance. And Aldwine’s mother chose to flee to Murwood End. The king did not require it.”

  My men come inside, soaking wet. Seeing us, they speak among themselves and disappear up the stairs, presumably to their rooms. I do not need to guess what they think of my friendship, as it were, with Aedre.

  They’ve not ceased their jests about the matter since we arrived.

  “The king married her, did he not?” she says loftily.

  “The marriage was arranged.”

  “He made the choice.”

  “Nay, he had none. Choice is a privilege, Aedre, reserved for some.” She clearly disagrees with me. “There is another side to him as well. A generous one. He brought me up in Castle d’Almerita after both of my parents died.”

  I told her not for sympathy but to prove my point, and yet Aedre’s eyes fill with tears. “How did they die?”

  “The sleeping illness. My father served the king.”

  I can see she understands why I’ll not be swayed by her words against him. Like any man, Galfrid has made mistakes. But he is a good man, one who cares deeply for others, much like Aedre.

  She would not risk herself to practice as a Garra otherwise.

  “My mother died in childbirth.”

  I stop eating, but Aedre forges ahead.

  “My father is overprotective because of it. But I’m grateful for his love. And for my grandmother.”

  Not knowing what to say, I finish the stew in silence. Not an awkward silence, but a companionable one, shared by two people who know the pain of not having a complete family.

  The crack of thunder reminds me of being with her in that cave. The desire to reach out and touch her is nearly overwhelming.

  When the serving maid takes away my bowl and slams down a tankard of ale, apologizing for it slipping from her hand, Aedre and I exchange a glance.

  “’Tis still raining
,” I comment.

  “Aye.”

  “Can you stay or will your father worry?”

  I refill my mug, waiting for her to answer.

  “He will know I’ve taken shelter. I can stay.”

  I still don’t move.

  “Do you want to stay? The other day you said you no longer wished to see me.”

  I’ve thought of nothing else these past few days—the glances Aedre stole when she didn’t think I was looking, the feeling of connection we had, and the way she left me in that cave without a backward glance.

  A woman like no other.

  “I said ’twas not necessary for you to retain my services.” Aedre nods to the mug. “Nothing more.”

  I fill her mug, hope swelling inside me.

  Perhaps I should feel guilty for enjoying myself so thoroughly with Meria on the verge of collapse, but I push such ominous thoughts aside.

  I may not have time for a woman such as Aedre back at d’Almerita, but for the few days I remain in Murwood End? I savor the thought of more pleasant conversations with this extraordinary woman.

  Even if I’d prefer much, much more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aedre

  It’s dark now, and the rain has stopped. Father no doubt will be looking for me. Though I don’t wish to leave, it is time.

  “I will walk you home.”

  We stand in front of the Sailor’s Inn, the docks quiet after the storm. I hold onto my skirts in order not to muddy the hem, an effort sure to end in failure.

  “I’ve made the journey alone many, many times. ’Tis safe enough for me here.”

  None in the village would harm me.

  “It may be safe, but still, I would walk you home.”

  Father will certainly learn of the time we spent this eve, for enough people saw Vanni and I together that someone is sure to tell him of it. Perhaps he might worry less knowing the commander is an honorable man.

  I need no protection, but Father does not always agree.

  So I simply nod and lead the way toward the vast darkness that is the Merian Sea. We walk in silence along the water, and I think on what I’ve learned about Vanni this day. His parents’ death and his upbringing at Castle d’Almerita. Three things have become clear this day.