“Kipp?” I ask again, this time more urgently. “We do not involve ourselves in Merian affairs. You cannot. No matter what the price. Please tell me you will not think of it.”
When he smiles, that sly, intelligent smile that’s so very Kipp, I realize I’ve been played.
“Have you fallen in love with Lord d’Abella because he’s an outsider? I don’t believe so, though I can’t say I understand what you see in him. Still, you are in love with him, that much is clear. Marry him. Or do not. ’Tis your choice.”
He can be such an arse sometimes. But for all his protests, I can tell something has shifted in him, though I don’t know when or why. If his dislike for Vanni were as strong as he claims, he wouldn’t encourage me to remember one of Amma’s greatest lessons.
That we all choose our own fate.
She held that belief more dear, even, than her faith in love.
If only Vanni agreed.
“I do love him,” I admit. “I’m not sure how it happened, Kipp. But I do.”
Kipp grunts in answer.
“But he just assumed I would marry him. That I would leave Murwood End, not to mention Father and you, and join him in d’Almerita. Does he not consider a Garra may not be welcome there? Or that I might not care to swear my allegiance to his king?”
Heated now, my hands flailing, I stop, struck by the knowledge that the king is Kipp’s father. That he could be the king one day, if he accepted the man’s offer.
“Have you thought of it, even for a moment? That you could be the next King of Meria?”
“No.”
He’s such a liar.
“Not even for one moment? As you lay your head down at night, dreaming of all that is possible? You’ve not considered it once?”
Kipp’s amusement is evident. “Dreaming of all that is possible? Is that what you do?”
I roll my eyes. “So what do you think of as you fall asleep?”
He gives me an impish grin that immediately conjures thoughts of Vanni. Of the way he felt on top of me, moving inside of me . . .
“Incorrigible,” I murmur.
“While we were in Midenear, there was a widow named—”
“Save your thoughts for the pillow.”
Kipp’s laugh lifts my spirits as it always does, and reassures me I’m making the right decision. I could never leave him. Or Father. Certainly not for a man who presumes to make decisions for me despite having only known me for a sennight.
Even so, the thought he may have already left Murwood . . .
What will happen to him if the Voyagers pledge their support and Edingham attacks? Kipp will not participate, I know, but he does not control the others. And what if the king’s nephew gains enough support to successfully challenge the king’s successor, whomever he chooses? What will happen to Vanni then?
“Aedre?”
I push aside thoughts of a problem I cannot solve.
“We will both remain in Murwood End,” I say flatly. If part of me questions it, there’s nothing for it. There is no other decision to make.
Kipp raises his mug. “Let us drink in memory of Amma. No talk of Meria or your commander or the king. Aye?”
I lift my mug too, though it feels heavy. “Aye.”
With naught left to say, we drink in silence.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Vanni
This meeting with the queen’s commander is reminiscent of the one I had with Aldwine. Same inn, same table. Stokerton gives off the same air of confidence, even, and is approximately the same age.
But the similarities stop there.
Whereas Aldwine is reticent and suspicious by nature, Stokerton is anything but. Every time we’ve come in contact before, I’ve been left with the impression that, were we not enemies, the commander and I could be friends.
Good-natured, often smiling or jesting, he is well-liked by most, including the queen. The rumors of Queen Cettina and Lord Stokerton rival even the most scandalous stories about the Merian court. Some say they’d be married already if she were not a queen.
Thomas and I stand to greet the commander and one of his men.
My mind should be firmly on this meeting and what I hope to gain from it, and yet I find my thoughts straying to Aedre. I deliberately did not seek her out last eve, knowing she was wroth with me. But I went to her house this morning, expecting to find her, only for her father to tell me she’d spent the night at Nord Manor.
It was as if her father had punched me in the gut. An unmarried woman, staying overnight as a guest of an unmarried man?
As Aedre herself would tell me, the rules are different here, or rather there aren’t any. And I’ve observed myself that she and Kipp act like brother and sister. Which might comfort me more if the two were related in any way.
A jab in the arm from Thomas pulls me back to the present.
“Lord d’Abella. Sir Thomas. What a fine meeting place you’ve chosen,” Stokerton says. He nods to his companion. “Sir Alex McGreghere.”
I shake the older man’s hand. As is typical for a Highlander, his grey hair is worn long and loose. But I know better than to discount him because of his age—behind his bushy beard are intelligent green eyes, striking in their color.
“We met once before,” the knight says, “many years ago at Castle d’Almerita. I believe it was the very year Galfrid welcomed you there. There was quite a bit of talk about the young boy whose sword skill would someday be unmatched.
Despite myself, I like the man already. He deftly avoided saying the year your parents died, and though it amounts to much the same, I appreciate his tact.
“I am sorry to have forgotten it, McGreghere.”
We sit then, the two men across from us, a tankard of ale and four mugs already gracing the table.
“You were a boy. And this”—he pulls on his beard—“was more brown than grey then.”
“And this,” I say as Thomas pours ale into our mugs, “is Sir Thomas Hawthorne.”
“The best amongst us,” Stokerton says, “for he pours the ale.”
My attention shifts to the commander.
As in Meria, the members of the queen’s Curia retain their titles for life unless otherwise decreed by the monarch. Which means he will remain as the second commander until the first commander dies. The duties are similar, as evidenced by the fact that we are both here, in Murwood, to do our liege’s bidding.
The purpose of this meeting is for me to learn what, exactly, their liege has bid them to do.
“We were surprised to learn of your presence,” Stokerton says, getting straight to the heart of the matter.
“As were we,” I admit. “You first?”
His laugh makes it impossible not to smile.
“D’Abella is not one for niceties,” he explains to McGreghere. “But the rumors are true. He is quite deadly with a sword.”
Since there is no hint of malice, I thank him for the compliment. “Unfortunately, it seems I will be forced to use it before I would wish.”
Stokerton does not flinch.
“Perhaps if you’d not sent a ship full of your best men against us, such things could have been avoided.”
He says it as if reporting that day’s weather.
“Word reached the capital quickly. As usual, Breywood is well informed.”
“Not as quickly as it reached you, it appears. They say you’ve been in Murwood for near a fortnight now.”
Less, but I do not correct him. Nor do I correct his assumption that we’ve come here to solicit the Voyagers’ help. It serves my purpose to let them think such a thing. Clearly, they know nothing of Aldwine, and I would keep it that way. Although he might not join our cause today, or tomorrow, as long as the king’s son lives, there is hope he might yet be persuaded. Though not, it seems, by me.
“We were provoked, Stokerton, as well you know.”
Thomas adds, “Women and children were never fair game in this fight between us.”
To his cred
it, the commander seems genuinely saddened by the thought. His smile flees.
“That the borders grow more lawless each day should not surprise you. When Galfrid last requested a parley on that very matter, your queen denied him,” I say.
At the words “your queen,” Stokerton’s eyes narrow. “Cettina wants peace along the borders as much as he does.”
I try not to laugh, knowing it will only incite him.
“Willing it so will do little to make it happen.”
McGreghere jumps in. “I live where the Loigh Mountains meet the Northern Mountains. None wish for peace there more than I do.”
A true Highlander, then, living in a place known for its danger.
“Galfrid has forgotten us,” he says, which is where I cannot help but jump in.
“He is not your king. Your ancestors saw to that.”
And round and round we go, as always, for the rift is bitter and old and full of blame.
Halfway into a second round of ale, I put a stop to the never-ending discussion. “We will not negotiate peace here at this inn, a place where neither of us hold sway.” I pause, calculating, then say, “You’ve also come to solicit the Voyagers’ support?”
No matter what Stokerton says, his eyes share the truth of my words. A fool’s errand. They will never fight for Edingham.
Or Meria.
“Lord Bailor remained coy when I asked of your negotiations.”
Because there were none. But his admission confirms my guess.
“Lord Bailor does not speak for Murwood. Gaining his support will not ensure you get help from any of the others.”
How much does Stokerton know of the people here?
How much do you know? According to Aedre, not very much at all.
“They say you’ve spoken to the mercenary?”
I can feel Thomas tense against me.
“Aye, he’s one of many men we’ve spoken to here,” Thomas says.
McGreghere watches me closely.
Stokerton says nothing for a time. But he’s the one who breaks the silent stand-off, by saying, “I’ve neglected to offer our sympathy on the passing of Prince Matteo.”
Again, I detect no hint of malice. He seems to mean what he says.
“I would not have expected your sympathy”—given that the ship was headed to Edingham’s shores—“but thank you for it.”
“An unfortunate turn of events, having Lord Hinton as successor.”
I watch for any indication he knows of Aldwine or connects our presence to him, but I see none.
“It is not an ideal situation,” I admit. “Much like having Lord Whitley at the queen’s heels, I would imagine.”
Stokerton’s face darkens at the mention of the queen’s brother-in-law.
“Just so,” he says, drinking.
His companion gives nothing away, nor can I ascertain from the commander how much truth there is to the rumors about the queen’s troubles.
“’Tis a shame we are on the brink of war,” I offer. And although I am not authorized to do so, I take the opportunity given, especially since Aldwine will not be returning south with me. “Perhaps rather than playing tug-o-war with the Voyagers, we could discuss terms for a truce?”
Thomas nearly spits out his ale. I will have to speak to the man about improving his ability to hide his surprise.
Stokerton puts down his mug and looks me in the eye.
“You’ve not been given leave to offer such a thing,” he states correctly.
“Nay,” I admit. “I have not.”
He and McGreghere exchange a glance, but it’s evident, despite their age difference, Stokerton is the one in charge here.
“Go on then.”
I’ve thought about this quite a bit since learning Stokerton was here in Murwood. My next words carry great risk, but the potential reward makes it worthwhile. Besides, he will learn soon enough of Galfrid’s reluctance to name Hinton his successor.
“It is true the king sent nearly two hundred men to your shores. If we’d intended a coup against your queen, I’d have been among them. The intent was a show of force at the border, nothing more.”
Can he sense the truth of my words?
“Galfrid recognizes Edingham, as his father did before him.”
The rulers of Edingham have always suspected us of secretly wishing to overthrow their “rogue” kingdom. And that may have been true at one time. But now we simply want our people to live in peace.
Unfortunately, Queen Cettina’s father did not believe it. As for his daughter, the queen has not been in power for long enough, less than a year, in fact, for her motives to be clear.
“Tsk. Two hundred men to squash a border squabble?”
“It was no squabble, but a brutal slaughter.”
McGreghere cuts in. “And now that Meria is weakened because of your tragedy, you wish to make peace?”
“Recall that we are here for the same reason,” Thomas says. A reason that has naught to do with peace.
Both men grow silent, thinking, considering.
“Galfrid is reluctant to name Hinton as heir,” I admit, “but the man is gathering support from the church. The same church that crosses the border.”
Neither kingdom is immune to the meddling of the Prima, his Eldermen, and most importantly, his Shadow Warriors.
“Hinton will be no friend to the queen.”
I can tell Stokerton is surprised I’ve offered so much, but surely he knows the king’s nephew well enough to realize I speak the truth.
“Who will Galfrid name instead?”
“I do not know.”
Realizing I’ve lost him, I rush to add, “Truly, I do not know. I left for d’Almerita the day after the sinking.”
“To gain the Voyagers’ support against us, or against Lord Hinton?”
Neither, but I do not wish to lie to him.
“To know where those in Murwood End stand before we move forward.”
A partial truth.
“And you?”
His chin rises defiantly. “The same.”
Neither of us will reveal any more. Will it be enough to avoid an all-out war with our neighbors to the east?
“Think on it. We’d planned to leave this very day but can delay until tomorrow.”
Which will give me time to talk to Aedre as well.
“What say you?”
Again, he smiles as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Since we last met, the queen’s commander has grown bolder, but he’s certainly not lost his sense of humor.
“I say we drink and meet again tomorrow, midday.”
McGreghere pounds his mug on the table then, a sign of good faith.
I was in the capital of Edingham the first time I saw a Highlander do that. And while some of my companions stared in horror at the men who slammed their mugs down in unison, I admired the gesture. Stokerton joins him, and I smile at the public show of unity. If it is meant to be a warning, as some in Meria suggest, then I am so warned.
But if I’m to drink with my enemy, I might as well get some measure of enjoyment out of it. Since there really is nothing else at the moment to bring me any pleasure.
I failed to convince Aldwine.
And the disastrous way Aedre and I parted . . . I still know not what I will say to her. She seemed quite adamant about not returning to the capital with us. Or marrying me.
My only consolation is the possibility that she will change her mind. Although I hadn’t thought to take a wife, I’ve become more accustomed to the idea of Aedre at court with me.
At home with me.
In my bed, night after night.
And so, I drink.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Vanni
“My lord, there is someone here to see you.”
I ignore the squire, hitting the quintain again and again and again.
I should have gone to the forge earlier, before the tide rose again, but Thomas and I didn’t part ways with Stokerton and McGreg
here for some time. And how was I to know she would hide from me for a second full day? When her father told me she was still at Nord Manor, I was of half a mind to tell him everything. Demand he send for her. Would he not agree we should marry if he knew the truth?
Restless in my need to strike something, I was almost jealous of the hammer he swung upon his anvil . . . so I decided to come back to the inn to await the opportunity to go to her at Nord Manor.
“My lord?”
I spin toward Christopher, prepared to share my displeasure at being interrupted, when I see the man standing behind him.
“Aldwine.”
I drop my sword.
“Why did you not tell me he was here?”
Christopher makes a strangled sound and marches off. I can hear the calls of men coming into port, indicating the end of the day for the fishermen of Murwood End. The end of another day without any communication with Aedre.
“Is she with you?”
Aldwine shakes his head. “Nay.”
Which means she is stranded at Nord. Did he take a boat?
“I need to speak to her,” I say, without preamble. “Take me back with you.”
Aldwine’s face is hard. “She does not wish to see you. So, no.”
I am liking Galfrid’s son less and less.
“I will not leave Murwood End without speaking to her.”
He approaches cautiously. “Does your king not anxiously await your return?”
“It matters not to you, as you’ve made clear.” I am angry enough to lash out at the very man I came here to woo.
He shrugs. “You’re right. It does not.”
My jaw aches from grinding my teeth together so forcefully.
Aldwine leans against the wall of the inn, crossing his arms. “If she were here, what would you say to her?”
I refuse to answer.
“I know about your tryst, d’Abella. And would challenge you because of it if Aedre had not convinced me ’twas her idea.”
She told him.
“What did she say to you?”
Before the words are even out of my mouth, I know he will not tell me. The man would no sooner betray Aedre’s confidence than he would return with me to claim the throne.
The King's Commander (Kingdoms of Meria Book 1) Page 16
