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

by Cecelia Mecca

  He turns to me. “No,” he says adamantly. “Never.”

  Sighing, I push the shutters open wider. From up here, we can hear the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. Who could live apart from the sea? I could not dream of it.

  “There is more I should tell you.”

  Kipp’s shoulders rise and fall, his anger understandable. If Prince Matteo had not died in that shipwreck, Kipp would not be in the line of succession at all. And I know he’s never gotten over his anger at his true father—the man who seduced his mother, then exiled her from court.

  Still . . .

  “I have gotten to know the commander.”

  Kipp turns to me, eyes narrowed.

  “I told him I would gain an audience with you.”

  Kipp is already shaking his head.

  “Please, ’tis just an audience. I already warned him you will not go back to Castle d’Almerita. For me?”

  Covering his face with his hands, Kipp rubs his eyes in annoyance.

  “I’m sorry, Kipp. Please do this. I promised him.”

  He folds his hands together, aggrieved, and asks the one question I cannot answer. Not unless I plan to tell him all.

  “Why would you promise such a thing?”

  Kipp is angry with me, something that has only happened once before. I snuck onto his ship once as a young girl of ten and two, Kipp being five years older. He found me after less than a half day at sea and promptly turned back to the shore, refusing to speak to me until we spotted land. We laugh at the incident now, yet it is still a matter of debate between us. Young boys voyaged, and yet I was not allowed. He argued it was my father’s wish, but even so, the inequality rankled.

  “I . . .”

  Part of me wishes to lie. But despite that one occasion when he sided with his father over me, Kipp has always been my staunch defender. And I know down to my bones he would never, ever lie to me.

  So neither can I lie to him.

  How do I say this? Or, more precisely, what do I say? That Vanni has already launched over the walls I spent years putting up?

  “Aedre?”

  I swallow.

  “If he has dishonored you . . .”

  “Nay, he has not. Do you think so little of me that you’d believe I would beg a favor for a man who has done me wrong? Vanni is all you’ve been told, and more. He’s honorable and kind, and has done nothing to incur your wrath.” I add quickly, “Certainly nothing involving me.”

  For he is, after all, King Galfrid’s man. And that ensures Kipp will never call him a friend.

  “Tell me.”

  We’ve discussed plenty of sensitive topics before—the sort of things some people dare never speak of aloud. My training as a Garra ensures I’m not overly sensitive. And yet, I feel my cheeks warm.

  “He kissed me.”

  Kipp waits as if to say, Is that all?

  “’Twas nothing like the others. Not even a bit.”

  Kipp knows about my insecurities—my fear that I’m a hypocrite for helping others with love and desire when I’ve never experienced much of it myself. And so he softens, if just a little.

  “I’m glad for it, Aedre. Truly, I am. But of all the men you could choose . . .”

  “But I did not. Not truly. He is a noble, nearly a royal. And yet, when we met, I could not deny my attraction to him.”

  Kipp seems to have calmed, though I worry about what that means. He has to agree to meet with Vanni, even if just to tell him no himself.

  “So what happened?”

  What indeed?

  “’Tis a story for another time, but for various reasons, I have found myself in his presence almost every day since he arrived.”

  Kipp makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Reasons? Ones contrived by you? Or by the very noble commander?”

  I cross my arms. “Maybe by Vanni. But that matters not.”

  “Ha! It matters, my dear Aedre. He seduced you.”

  Seduced me to gain an audience with Kipp. I’ve considered as such, and even if I do not truly believe it, I’m practical enough to recognize there might be some truth to Kipp’s words.

  “He could not have known. I only admitted to knowing your secret after he revealed his true purpose.”

  Kipp is not convinced.

  “Did he know we were friends?”

  I think back. “Not at first.”

  “But when he learned of it?”

  In truth, I cannot guess at Vanni’s true intentions. I don’t know the man that well. But I do know one thing. “He desired me from the start.” I add in a small voice, “And I him.”

  Before Kipp can answer, I tell him about the incident with Father Beald. Angry again, but this time for a very different reason, Kipp clearly wishes to pick up where Vanni left off. Though he might actually do the man harm, if his expression is any indication.

  “He’s banished him, of sorts,” I quickly explain, and there’s a slight softening in Kipp. Very slight.

  “So he used his influence to help you. Still, I suspect his motivations.”

  “Ugh.” He can be so maddening. So very stubborn.

  “Come, eat with us. ’Tis enough talk of Galfrid’s man.”

  I try to argue, but he tugs my hand as a brother would.

  “Will you see him?”

  Kipp doesn’t answer but fairly pulls me from the solar instead.

  Maddening.

  The whole lot of them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vanni

  “Be patient,” I insist. “She will gain us an audience.”

  Christopher looks behind me as we finish our practice session. My men are impatient for news about Aldwine, especially now that he’s returned, and there’s no better way to pass the time than in training. Accepting challenges, honing our skills for the dark days ahead. Whether or not we return with the bastard king, I fear we will be called upon to fight for Meria’s future.

  The widening of Christopher’s eyes tells me who stands at the entrance to the inn’s courtyard. “It seems your faith in her was not misplaced,” he says, leaving. “She is here.”

  I gasp like an untrained lad when I turn to see her. Aedre has always dressed simply before, but not this eve.

  She stands before me in a deep blue velvet gown lined in gold, her hair pulled away from her face with a simple gold circlet.

  In a flash, I find myself envisioning her by my side at court.

  None would rival her.

  It takes me a moment to realize she’s staring back with an equal degree of intensity.

  I walk toward her, feeling my body react to her presence. To her admiration. Aedre’s lips open, just slightly, her eyes trained on my bare chest.

  “Pardon me, Lady Aedre.” I make for the wooden quintain and grab my shirt.

  “You need not . . .”

  Sheathing my sword, I pause for her to finish.

  “. . . beg my pardon, for intruding on your practice.”

  Smiling, I take a step toward her.

  “I thought you might say I need not put this on.” I gesture to the shirt, which I then pull over my head.

  She gives me a skeptical, weighing look—the same way she regarded me that very first day, when we met along the quay.

  “I’ve seen men without their shirts on before.”

  I glance around. Since we are alone, I decide to test her bravado.

  “Aye?”

  Another step toward her.

  “Aye,” she says more firmly, so close now her lavender scent reaches me. I breathe it in, aching to reach out and touch her.

  Closing the remaining distance between us, I pray Aedre will not be offended by my words. “And have you allowed many of those men you’ve seen as such to kiss you?” I search her eyes for the truth. “To taste your sweetness as I have done? To awaken something inside”—I venture a guess now—“that you’ve never felt before?”

  A guess based on my own experience.

  This . . . thing bet
ween us is unique. Even as I rebel against it, knowing my duty requires me to leave her—knowing also she would never wish to come to court with me—I cannot deny that.

  “You are bold, sir.”

  “And would be bolder still, would you allow it.”

  “Is that so?”

  It should not be so at all. But her eyes burn in a way that invites me to speak.

  “Aye.”

  No additional words are spoken, for none are needed. But Aedre is a lady, and a virgin. The code of honor dictates that we cannot lie together.

  And still, I find myself saying, “Were circumstances different, I would not have put it back on but would have instead taken your hand and laid it on my chest. I’d have kissed you already, Aedre, and shown you just how dearly I wish you would touch all of me.”

  A final step toward her.

  I dare not move any closer.

  I’m sure she will slap me at any moment. But this is no simpering maid. This woman has held a knife to my throat. Her manner of speaking is so bold, so brazen, it never fails to surprise me.

  “I came here for a reason.” Her voice, thick, is not unaffected.

  I should care very much about her reasons for seeking me out, especially given her connection to Aldwine, but first, I’d know one thing.

  “Do you wish to touch me, Aedre?”

  Though we are alone at the moment, the courtyard having cleared as all who practiced or watched headed indoors for supper, such a fact could change at any time. Even so, I cannot help myself.

  “Aedre?”

  Before I can help myself, I reach for her. Aedre does not recoil from my hand, instead allowing it to graze her cheek. It feels as her gown looks, so soft and smooth.

  Her eyes close, thick dark lashes against her cheeks. Part of me aches to forget everything and taste her again. Yet the sight of my rough hand against her flesh is reminder enough of who I am and why I am here. I am a warrior, a commander. My hands were made for fighting, not loving.

  I pull my hand away. “You did not come here to be mauled by me.”

  “Hmm,” she murmurs. “Mayhap I did.”

  Her words do not help, even though I asked for such torture. Another vision, this time of me hauling her up against the stone building behind her, using it as leverage as I hold her at my waist, sinking into her, claiming her . . .

  Groaning, I step back, attempting to regain control.

  “You said you’ve come for a purpose, and ’twas likely not to be mistreated by me.”

  “Nay,” she says adamantly, “you would never do that.”

  I look into her eyes.

  “Nay, I would not.”

  After a moment, one no words could sufficiently fill, she says, “I came to tell you that I’ve seen Kipp.”

  Before I can respond, she rushes to add, “Lord Bailor is hosting a feast in honor of the men’s safe return. I am on my way there now.”

  Ah, the reason for her gown.

  “Kipp will be there. And he will receive you on the morrow.”

  I want to wrap my arms around her.

  “I’d have come here sooner, but when I returned home, Father was not feeling well. So I dressed, hoping . . . hoping you might escort me there.”

  “To Anbarth Castle?”

  Aedre nods. “My father and I were invited, but perhaps you could escort me instead?”

  “Would it be proper, for me to escort you, alone? Your father . . .”

  “Trusts that I can judge a man’s character well. He knows that I am here, asking you this very question.”

  “Such strange customs.” I stop myself. “Nay, not strange. Different than my own. Thank you.” I’m not sure what I’m thanking her for, exactly, arranging our meeting with Kipp or inviting me to spend the eve with her. It will likely be our last chance to do so. Once we meet with Kipp, there will be no further reason to stay. Galfrid needs us, needs me, in the south.

  The thought is a heavy one, but I won’t allow it to ruin our night.

  “You are an angel.”

  I would hug her. Kiss her.

  I would make her mine, if I could.

  “Come into the inn while I prepare. I’ll do so quickly.”

  “Vanni.” She lays a hand on my shoulder before I can walk away, staying me. I resist the urge to grasp it. To kiss it. To touch the inside of her wrist with my lips, my tongue . . .

  “Do not thank me yet. You may have an audience, but I do not believe you will have your king.”

  I don’t let her words affect the gleeful mood I suddenly find myself in.

  “We shall see.” I smile. “I can be quite persuasive.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Aedre

  When Kipp agreed to meet Vanni on the morrow, my victory felt hollow. He only agreed for my sake, and I know his answer will not be to Vanni’s liking. My heart felt heavy too, burdened by the knowledge that Vanni will leave after their meeting.

  By the time I reached home to news of Lord Bailor’s invitation, Amma knew something was wrong. The blasted tears would not stop flowing.

  Holding me to her chest, she stroked my hair as if I were a young girl. She did not chastise me, although I would have understood if she had. I’ve known Vanni for less than a sennight. But Amma reminded me of the heart’s wayward notions.

  “There is nothing as unpredictable as love,” she’d said.

  My stupid heart chose a man that I cannot have.

  When father returned home with the invitation from Lord Bailor and said he felt too weary to attend, Amma and I exchanged a glance. I knew without asking that we shared the same thought—a surprising turnaround given her attitude the first time we discussed Lord d’Abella.

  “Mayhap the commander could escort me?”

  Amma was quick to add, “He is an honorable man, the king’s commander. I think ’tis a fine idea.”

  Father attempted to argue, but Amma didn’t make it easy on him.

  “Who should she ask instead? Agnar? He covets the child still, and you know it well, Dal.”

  Child.

  I tried not to grin at Amma’s words.

  “Agnar would not dishonor her,” he says hesitantly. “We know little of this commander.”

  “’Tis not true, Father. I know the king trusts him with his life. And that he is loyal and respectful. I’ve learned from you well and would not risk myself for any man.”

  It had taken a bit more convincing, but he’d relented in the end. As Vanni said, our ways are not so rigid here. The people of Murwood End pride themselves on flaunting the conventions of the south and east. Of the very courts they fled from.

  As I wait for him in front of the inn, watching the fishermen unload and the final flurry of activity of the day, I think of myself a few days hence, watching the same scene knowing Vanni will not emerge from the inn behind me. He will be long gone, a distant memory.

  I’ve healed so many of the ache of lost love, but can I heal myself?

  “Apologies if I kept you waiting overly long, my lady.”

  I turn, amazed at how quickly he’s transformed. Hair still damp, he is otherwise impeccably put together, the king’s seal emblazoned on his tunic. This is the commander I met that first day. It’s a much-needed reminder that he isn’t a Voyager, even if he and his men have taken to dressing like our people.

  “You look . . .”

  Commanding. Magnificent. Handsome.

  “. . . like a king’s man.”

  Instead of being offended, he bows ever so formally.

  “A king’s man at your service, my lady. I shall not abuse the duty your father has entrusted me with as your escort.”

  I’m not disappointed by his words. I thought only of spending time with him, being near him. Any further intimacies would only make our future separation that much harder. And yet, the thought of kissing him again . . .

  The sound of hoofbeats coming from the courtyard behind us distracts me. One of Vanni’s men—his squire, I believe—leads a
massive warhorse toward us.

  I shake my head.

  “Nay. I do not ride.”

  Vanni seems surprised by that. “I know you’ve few horses here, but surely you’ve ridden one before?”

  “There is no building in Murwood End I cannot walk to, so nay, I’ve never ridden a horse before. Most of our people travel by sea, and no visitors have ever offered to take me for a ride. Nor would have I accepted if they had done so.”

  “Dex will not harm you.”

  He takes my hand and leads me to him, placing it on the horse’s mane. His hair is rough yet surprisingly smooth despite it. Such a large animal. Yet he has gentle, patient eyes. A calm comes over me as I stroke him, the horse’s energy easily identifiable as peaceful.

  “Shall I bring him back to the stables, lord?”

  Vanni looks from his squire to me, the question plain in his eyes. While I’d prefer to walk, mayhap this is a night for adventure.

  “I would ride with you?”

  “Aye.”

  Vanni will keep me safe. So I nod.

  He mounts easily despite the horse’s size.

  “Give me your hand,” he commands. “Hike up your gown and put your foot there.” He points to the stirrup. “Toss the other one over Dex’s side.”

  I do as he says and, as easily as if I were a child, he pulls me up in front of him. Settling in, I rearrange my gown, but my gaze finds the ground. It is so far down.

  “I’m scared,” I admit, whispering so his squire does not hear me.

  Vanni leans forward, his breath tickling my exposed ear.

  “There is no need to be afraid when you are with me, Aedre.”

  Though I know his promise only extends to this eve, I can’t help wishing it meant something more. Something longer.

  Wrapping one arm around my waist, he takes the reins from his squire with the other.

  I jolt a little as we begin to move forward, but he tightens his grip.

  “I’ll not let go,” he says in my ear, sending a very different jolt through me.

  The sight of a horse making its way along the quay is not so unusual as to garner much attention, yet everyone who sees us stares. Perhaps it’s Vanni they’re looking at—I know I won’t be able to stop staring at him all night—or it may be the sight of us together that interests them so.