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

by Cecelia Mecca

  Another song starts, this one led by a flute off in the distance, and seemingly every person in attendance begins to sing. Thomas and I exchange a look. The tune is upbeat and joyful, but the words speak of darkness and death. A curious combination.

  “We leave on the morrow?” he asks over the singing around us.

  I don’t answer.

  How can I leave Aedre now?

  How can I justify staying any longer when Hinton is even now gathering support for his claim? I’m needed in d’Almerita. We all are.

  And Galfrid needs to know that Aldwine has rejected his offer. He will have to formulate a new plan, and quickly.

  “Aye.” Knowing what I must do does not make the decision any easier.

  Aedre looks at me. Her smile falters, and I see the deep pain behind it. The pain she only feels comfortable showing to me, for some reason. She needs me.

  “Or perhaps the following day,” I say, striding toward her. I can feel Thomas’s eyes on my back, but we can make up time on our journey home. It is just one day.

  “How do you fare?” I ask as I reach her. She gestures to indicate she can’t hear me above the singing, and we move to the edge of the crowd. There are easily over three hundred people here, gathered on the edge of the village, not far from our spot.

  “How do you fare?” I ask again when we are separated from the others.

  The words feel insufficient. I would prefer to hold her in my arms again, the way I did in her grandmother’s chamber. It felt as if she belonged there.

  “’Twas a beautiful ceremony, was it not?” she says.

  “Aye, it was.”

  Aedre looks as if she wants to say something, but hesitates.

  “Tell me,” I prompt her.

  As the singing dies down, the soft lapping of the waves is once again evident. We’re far enough away that none seem to notice us here, and we stand side by side, watching the revelry from afar.

  “When I came home the night of the feast, she told me all would be well.”

  The need to hold her nearly overwhelms me this time, but with her protectors close by, I dare not.

  You are her protector too.

  I shove away the thought.

  “I said nothing to her . . . nothing about us, I mean. I was too embarrassed. But she knew something had happened anyway.”

  I can’t help but smile. “A Garra, embarrassed?”

  But Aedre doesn’t smile with me. Of course she doesn’t. Her Amma just passed away.

  She looks down at her feet. “I do not deserve that title.”

  “Of course you do.” Lifting Aedre’s chin, I force her eyes to mine. “Of course you do,” I repeat. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Now that I’m touching her, I don’t want to break our contact, however small.

  “I never truly understood desire . . . love.”

  Until now, no feeling has ever matched my yearning for my parents to be alive again. My drive to please the king. My devotion to my country. But this longing I feel for Aedre is so deep it stays with me, waking or asleep, and resurfaces at all hours. Every muscle in my body aches to hold her. To comfort her. Every thought in my head is for or of her.

  But your situation hasn’t changed, a voice in my head reminds me.

  Reluctantly, I drop my hand.

  “Can a motherless woman care for a child?” I say.

  “Aye, for certain.”

  “Can a midwife help a woman give birth to a new babe even if she’s never carried?”

  Understanding glimmers in her eyes, and she nods. “You will leave on the morrow.”

  She changed the topic utterly without warning, but I’m becoming accustomed to her ways. To her habit of cutting to the point.

  “Nay,” I decide, knowing the men will not agree. They have reason to object, and yet . . .

  Had Aldwine not returned, we’d still be waiting for him.

  “I would meet you,” I say.

  If but for one last time.

  Aedre glances at the crowd before she answers, and part of me fears she’ll say no. Mayhap she should. “I would like that very much.”

  “Come, we’ll find your father.”

  Though I want to take her hand as we walk back, I have no right to do so.

  “I’m sorry, Vanni,” she says quietly. “I know Kipp has told you he’ll not go south.”

  It moves me so much that she’s thinking of my disappointment, after losing such an important person in her life, and I find it hard to answer. Instead, I stop and look into her eyes.

  She seems to understand.

  I am sorry too. About Kipp. About Lady Edrys.

  About us.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Aedre

  All day I’ve waited for him, working alongside my father, letting the hammer’s rhythmic strike on the anvil lull me into some sort of peace. Not the kind that stays with you, but the fleeting kind that keeps the demons at bay.

  But it never lasts for long. No more than a few minutes pass before I’m reminded that Amma isn’t sitting just outside the forge. Or the door will open, and I’ll look up, expecting Vanni to fill the frame. Instead, it’ll be a patron of my father’s or his apprentice, Amery.

  This time, it’s neither.

  “Agnar,” I greet him from my perch on a high stool. Punching is my least favorite duty, but it needs to be done. Still, if there’s any excuse to stop, I’ll take it.

  “A ship has just arrived,” he announces.

  “A regular occurrence here, but thank you for the information, Agnar,” Father says. He has not lost his humor, at least.

  “From Breywood.”

  Not a regular occurrence. We trade regularly with Highlanders, but almost never with the Edingham royal court. It is most unusual indeed.

  “Breywood Castle?” I clarify.

  “Aye,” Agnar says. “They say the queen’s commander is on the ship.” He scowls. “We’ve one too many of those already in Murwood.”

  That surprises me.

  “I thought you and Va . . . Lord d’Abella have gotten on? From what I hear, you’ve been training with him.”

  In answer, he grumbles something and nods toward the door. “Are you coming?”

  When an interesting ship comes to port, many of the villagers gather to meet it. I shake my head, about to say no, when Father answers for me.

  “Take her. Go, Aedre.”

  Normally my father is attempting to get me into the forge, not out of it. I’m about to ask the reason for the sudden change when I realize he’s attempting to distract me.

  Mayhap I need to be distracted.

  “Go,” he says, more forcefully than is his custom. “Bring back news of the visitors.”

  “I will finish that,” Amery says, taking the punch from me and gently guiding me off the stool. When I’m next to him, I realize the boy we’ve come to depend on so much is now a young man.

  “When did you grow so tall, Amery?”

  He straightens even more. “Some time ago, Lady Aedre.”

  I smile at him, forgetting for the moment that my world has been turned around, and hand over my tools. Taking off my apron, I hang it and bid Father farewell. I wash outside in the wooden bucket, then join an impatient Agnar, who talks the entire way.

  I have little to say.

  Amma is gone. Vanni will be leaving. I chastise myself for not having spoken to him again last eve before I returned home, unable to abide the crowd of revelers any longer.

  By the time we arrive, we’re not the only ones hoping to get a look at the newcomers.

  “I see nothing,” I say, angling for a better view.

  It’s then I realize we’ve been separated in the crowd. Agnar is nowhere to be seen, leaving me to navigate toward the docks myself. I make my way toward the water’s edge and get a glimpse of blue and silver.

  Agnar was right. It seems these men are from the queen’s court. How peculiar for there to be two commanders in Murwood End at the s
ame time. Does Vanni know about it?

  “Oh!” Grabbed from behind, I’m unable to reach my knife in time. But it seems I don’t need it.

  Vanni pulls me by the hand, guiding me away from the crowd.

  “What are you . . .”

  Shoved sideways by the press of people, I’m grateful for the anchor of Vanni’s hand. He has a tight grip on me and doesn’t seem inclined to let go.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the inn.”

  The inn?

  Indeed, although it catches me by surprise when he leads me not to the front but through the courtyard—his makeshift training yard—and then up a set of wooden stairs after looking around, presumably to be sure no one is watching.

  Vanni released my hand as we first started to climb up, and has yet to say a word to me since.

  How did he even see me in that crowd?

  Where are we going?

  When he opens a door and steps inside, I follow. I’d seen this back entrance to the rooms on the second floor before, but I’ve never been up here.

  Squeezing past me, Vanni takes out a key and opens the last door at the end of the hallway. He pushes it open, and I follow him in.

  “This isn’t how I’d planned to meet you today,” he says. “I went to the forge this morning.” He closes the door behind me. “But you weren’t there yet. I’d have returned sooner, but a ship appeared on the horizon and . . .”

  He opens the shutters just slightly for air, both sets of them, partially illuminating a small but well-appointed room. There is not much inside but a bed, two chairs, and a wooden stand with a bowl of water and a strip of linen cloth next to it.

  “This is where you’ve been staying.”

  “Aye.”

  Before I can ask another question, he’s there in front of me.

  He takes me in his arms and draws me to him, his lips lowering to mine. I care not that it is highly improper for us to be here, in this room, alone. He is leaving and, like Amma, he will be gone forever. And maybe that’s why he dragged me from the docks to be here.

  I give him back all of me.

  Our tongues tangle in a kiss that consumes us both. A desperate one, at least on my part, born of loss and need to get even closer to him. Something takes over, and that something has me tugging on his tunic, wanting . . . more. Needing it.

  Vanni says nothing as he pulls his tunic over his head. He watches me as I stare at his bare chest, now on full display. And when I reach out, hesitant, he covers my hands with his own and presses down, wordlessly giving me permission to explore. My touch is hesitant at first, but then my hands stray everywhere, savoring the warm, hard ridges of his chest. Vanni’s groan is the only sound between us, the room as still and silent as the courtyard below.

  Everyone but us is down at the docks.

  Two brass brooches at my shoulders hold the material of my mantle together. He must know this, because he reaches for them and looses them in but a moment. The overcoat spills to the ground, leaving just a long-sleeved shift behind.

  When Vanni pulls me back to him, this time it is an entirely different experience. Without so many layers between us, I can feel his desire for me in every touch. In the melding of our lips. And in the way his hands work their way up from my hips, trailing along my waist and then moving higher. He cups my breasts, both of us all hands and touches, as if desperate to memorize each other. When he kisses my neck and then dips lower, I can no longer remain silent.

  “I need all of you.”

  “Aedre . . .”

  “Do not deny me this.”

  His breath is shallow, as if he were in pain.

  “You don’t know—”

  I press my finger into his chest. “If you tell me I don’t know what I’m asking, then I will remind you of who I am. I’m a Garra, Vanni. Like my grandmother before me. I’ve lost her, but I will not lose the chance to be with you before you leave. Maybe we did not plan for this, but you will give me all of you this day.”

  I can tell he wasn’t expecting those words.

  Well, I was not really expecting them either. But I will not take them back. If I cannot give my virginity to the man I love, for there is no longer any doubt about my feelings for him, then who should I give it to?

  “I did not intend this. I just . . .” Vanni runs a hand through his hair. “I saw you and needed to be with you.”

  I raise my chin. “And you will be. Do not make the same mistake as you did the day we met.”

  He might have southern sensibilities still, but he should know I am no gentlewoman of his courts. In Murwood End, we can be captains. We can be blacksmiths. We can wield our sexuality as well as any man. We can make decisions for ourselves.

  Though he might be relenting, I can see he’s still worried.

  “I will not grow with child.”

  I was correct. From the look on his face, that was precisely the source of his concern.

  “I know the mysteries of a woman’s body. ’Tis not my time to beget a child.”

  Vanni just looks at me for a moment, regarding me with a look that sends my heart racing. Does he respect me enough to take what I offer?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Vannni

  I didn’t mean for this to happen.

  I’d thought to speak with her, to kiss her again, and then to leave.

  But when I saw Aedre in that crowd, something inside of me would not be held back. Last eve, being so close to her, unable to comfort her as I would have liked . . .

  If the rumors are indeed true, I should be down at those docks. I should be trying to determine what Queen Cettina is planning—and how I can stop it. Instead, I’m here, actually contemplating taking this woman’s virginity.

  I cannot do it.

  “Aedre.”

  My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.

  Do not make the same mistake as you did the day we met.

  I remember her words that day.

  You’ve much to learn, Southerner.

  And I have learned much since arriving in Murwood End. I’ve learned that its people are more than willful and wild. That they’re resourceful and intelligent too, Aedre more so than most.

  Do not deny me this.

  I’m losing the war with myself, my resolve slipping away as she waits for me to decide. This goes against everything I’ve been taught. If we do this . . .

  Never in my days have I disrobed so quickly. As I do, Aedre’s keen eyes roam down from my chest, which she’d been admiring, to the evidence of my desire for her. I reach for the hem of her shift and lift it up, Aedre’s arms reaching high to assist me.

  She kicks off her leather shoes and, seeing her nude, I know my biggest challenge will be to take this slow. As we come together, our bodies blessedly touching everywhere, I wonder if such a thing is even possible. My hands are everywhere, and hers . . . ah God. She cups my backside and my hips jerk forward in response.

  Kissing Aedre has become like life to me, as necessary as eating or drinking. And then she does something so unexpected, I hardly have time to react.

  “Aedre? What are you doing?”

  Kneeling, she wraps her hand around me, as if positioning us both.

  “’Tis evident, is it not? You gave me pleasure and I will return it.”

  She cannot think to . . .

  When her lips wrap around me, I clench my fists in her hair, careful to do so gently. At least, I try to be gentle, but this innocent woman takes me in her mouth as skillfully as a practiced courtesan.

  Garra, I remind myself. Not experience but having been trained in the art of loving. But it is so unexpected for a woman whose kiss was tentative at first that I know this cannot last. If she continues, I’ll spill my seed in her mouth, and I cannot allow that to happen.

  Lifting her up is the single hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Her lips are wet, eyes curious. It takes just seconds for me to move us to the bed.

  Is this a dream? Will I wake t
o find this simple chamber empty, Aedre no longer with me? But it feels so very real. Squirming under me, getting into a comfortable position, Aedre stares up at me, her eyes never leaving mine.

  As my hands move from her breasts downward in a sweet exploration, I push her thighs open and slip my finger inside to be sure. Aye, she is ready.

  But am I?

  “You are the most beautiful woman in the Isle, Aedre,” I say, hoping she believes that truth. I withdraw and position myself above her, unable to believe this is truly happening.

  “This cannot be undone,” I say with a groan. “Do not look at me like that, Aedre. I’m determined to take this slowly.”

  Her hands rest on my shoulders.

  “I am no delicate vase, Vanni. I will not break if you drop me.”

  Positioning myself with my hand, I vow to her, “I will never drop you.”

  Though I’ve never taken a woman’s virginity before, I know it will cause her pain. Entering slowly, I reach the barrier and wait.

  Throbbing. My hands shaking as they hold my body over her.

  It feels as if this is my first time making love to a woman, though it’s hardly that.

  “Aedre?”

  I remember the first time she gave me her name. Aedre, daughter of Dal Lorenson, descendant of Athea.

  And know her answer even before she nods. We will be joined this day.

  When she nods slightly, giving me permission, I don’t hesitate, wanting the pain to go quickly for her.

  She does cry out then, and I’m sorry for it. I still myself, closing my eyes and calming my racing heart . . . or trying to.

  Finally, I open them again, hoping her pain has eased.

  Aedre looks down between us, curious.

  “Does it hurt?”

  She blinks, then shakes her head. Smiles.

  I start moving then, my hand gliding up to her breast. I would tell Aedre she has captured my heart, but she must know I’d not be inside her if she hadn’t. The strain of holding back, of resisting the urge to thrust, makes my arms shake.

  Rewarded with a soft whimper, I grow bolder. Move faster. Circle my hips, intent on just one thing.