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

by Cecelia Mecca

  You do not demand marriage from a woman like Aedre.

  The last time I drank enough ale to fill the Bay of Sindridge was after Albertus died. Even then, I didn’t wake with a sword clutched to my chest the next morn. Still, I can remember pieces of my discussion with Thomas.

  “Well?” As if I conjured him, Thomas appears behind me.

  “’Tis done.” There are too many witnesses around for us to discuss the meeting.

  “The innkeeper has offered to serve us a meal as the horses are prepared.”

  “Go,” I tell him. “Take as many provisions as you’re able. I will be back by the sixth hour.”

  Thomas looks at our shadows cast by the sun. “We will be ready.”

  He looks as if he wishes to say something else, but he simply clasps my shoulder, nods, and turns back to the entrance of the inn.

  I’d not planned to leave the inn before our departure. The need for some space, some quiet, some reflection steals over me. My feet move before I can consider where they take me. Away from the village, certainly. Though I know she is still at Nord Manor, I squint at the buildings as I pass them, looking for her.

  You do not demand marriage from a woman like Aedre.

  And how does Thomas know anything about women like Aedre? There are none like her in Meria. Mayhap none like her here in Murwood End. Climbing these rocks for the last time, I sit on the one we shared, watching as boats come and go. Watching the waves, so predictable yet unpredictable.

  For the first time, instead of pushing away thoughts of Matteo and the others clinging to pieces of wood, I let them come. They must have been terrified in those final moments. Although they’d sailed into battle, the warriors among them prepared for what that might mean, falling in battle is a different matter from drowning. They had no chance. No ability to fight for themselves.

  Death never used to scare me before. I’d seen from my parents how quickly life could be taken away—and accepted I’d probably lose mine in service to the king. Nay, death never used to scare me, but life . . . that is a different matter entirely.

  I do not like you.

  Indeed, she did not. With good reason, given her lineage. I wish the Meria her grandmother told her of no longer existed. Many would welcome her, and those who did not . . . could they not learn, as I have?

  If a nobleman—a king’s man, as she so often said with accusation—could fall in love with a woman who rejects the very king he would give his life to serve, could not others do the same?

  Aye, they could—easily—but they will never get the chance.

  Just as I will never get the chance to feel her pressed against me again. To touch her, to love her . . . to tell her I am sorry.

  Looking up at the sun, I know it is time to leave. Scrambling down from the rocks, I glance one last time at the Cliffs of Murh, trying not to remember the cave Aedre brought me to . . . all while knowing I will never forget. Aedre will never forgive me. But just in case I’m wrong, there’s just one more place I need to go before leaving Murwood End for good.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Vanni

  Castle d’Almerita, Kingdom of Meria

  “Goddammit, Thomas. We leave for Highburn in the morn.”

  Thomas winks at the woman on his arm, who giggles.

  “Look around, my lord. The evening is young. Tomorrow is a wicked master, but it can easily be kept at bay for now.”

  I do look, the hall as glittering as ever, revelers abounding, despite the ominous promise of tomorrow. Lord Hinton’s support has only increased since we’ve returned, which makes this meeting with him necessary, however it rankles Galfrid. If the next day is a wicked master, it bows to the sun, which will usher it in sooner than Thomas thinks.

  “Pay him no mind,” he tells the woman, whom I don’t recognize. “Lord d’Abella has forgotten how to enjoy himself.”

  I cannot wholly disagree.

  “I will enjoy myself once the matter of King Galfrid’s heir has been settled.”

  By now all at court know the king’s nephew is in open rebellion, demanding to be named Galfrid’s heir. In response, the king has finally announced his intention to name Lord Calderone as his successor. A distant relative, he is a powerful border lord, though he very rarely attends court. The man is also reluctant to accept, which makes him less than ideal, especially since many blame his inaction as a reason for such violence in the Eastern Marches.

  Imperfect, aye.

  But a better man than Hinton by far. Unfortunately, too many side with the king’s nephew even as they agree he is dangerous. The Prima has put the full weight of the church behind him, and that still means something.

  Nor could I have predicted how difficult it would be to return to a life I thought I loved.

  “Will you enjoy yourself even then?” Thomas says in parting, a flippant question with a serious edge. Only he knows the full extent of what happened weeks ago with Aedre. And only then because my judgment fled when I drank more than I should have that eve.

  * * *

  Conversation flows around me. I watch the king and his wife, their conversation stilted. Theirs was an arranged marriage, and even after all these years, it shows. With Prince Matteo dead, there is even less binding them.

  It stung to inform the king of our failure, but Galfrid admitted he’d expected no different outcome. His words relieved some of my disappointment in myself. But only some. I will never stop blaming myself for my failure with Aedre.

  Since returning, I’ve kept occupied preparing for negotiations with Lord Hinton, attempting to convince Galfrid to treat with Queen Cettina, and training the men for a battle that looks increasingly inevitable.

  When my companions attempt to lure me into conversation, I politely turn the conversation back to them. Until one of them, a landed knight with no title whose name escapes me, points toward the entrance of the hall.

  I see it at the same time he does, a flash of bright royal blue, as vibrant as the tapestries hanging from every corner of the hall. A latecomer. Indeed, the meal has nearly ended, King Galfrid having just given permission for those present to leave even as he and his queen enjoy the sweetmeats that are, as the king puts it, “his ever-endearing pleasure.”

  “Who is she?”

  From my vantage point, I see nothing but the hem of a blue gown. But whoever has entered the hall must be a stranger to court. Whispers grow louder and then . . .

  Nay. It could not be possible.

  A rush of excitement, and heat, courses through me as Aedre scans the hall. When I notice Thomas is no longer with his widow but standing by Aedre’s side, I realize he must have intercepted her on his way out.

  Aedre. Here at court.

  Is it possible?

  Aye, very possible, given the evidence is there before me. I stand, my legs weak.

  She sees me, her eyes locking on mine.

  I stride through the hall, reaching her quickly—needing to reassure myself it is indeed her.

  “Good evening, Lord d’Abella.”

  How can she speak so calmly when I cannot even find my voice?

  “You are surprised to see me here.”

  Surprised? The word hardly does justice to what I’m feeling. I look at Thomas.

  “I noticed her being escorted to the hall,” he says, his companion still nowhere to be found.

  My mind works quickly. “Your father told you?”

  She nods. “Is there a place where we may speak privately?”

  Though she looks beautiful in a gown fit for court, her hair neatly plaited, as is the current style, to me she was just as beautiful when covered in ash from the forge. Or, better yet, nude and lying beneath me.

  Even still, it is a surprise to see her like this. And I’m not the only one to notice. We are the center of attention. Even . . .

  I look to the dais and, as expected, Galfrid watches us.

  He knows a little about Aedre, those facts which were important for me to relay in terms of Al
dwine. He does not know I left my heart behind with her in Murwood.

  “By coming here, into the hall, you’ve made it necessary for me to introduce you,” I whisper, knowing of her distaste for the king. “How did you get here? When did you arrive? And this gown . . .”

  I guide her to the side of the hall, wishing we were alone.

  “Father and I came by ship. We arrived this morn. The gown was a gift from Lady Bailor. She’s not visited court in years and warned me it would not be fashionable any longer. But it suits my purposes.”

  Both king and queen watch us, so I begin to guide her toward them.

  “What are those purposes, Aedre?” Her presence here answers my question. But I ask her anyway because I can hardly believe this is happening. “I thought I might never see you again.”

  I tuck her arm in mine, every step toward Galfrid lighter and more joyous than the one before it.

  “Father did not give me the message straightaway. But he did ask many questions. Some easier to answer than others.”

  “He is here?”

  She nods. “Marveling over the chamber he was given. He’s vowed never to leave it.”

  And he never would. If I’m interpreting her presence correctly, this is her home now. Our home.

  I’d dwelled on the passage of time over and over and over again. Each day that passed, I became more convinced she would not come.

  It was a lot to ask of her.

  Forgiveness.

  Trust.

  Uprooting the only lives they’d known to come to a place that no doubt makes them both uneasy, despite my assurances of their safety.

  “And when he gave it?”

  “Lord d’Abella,” Galfrid booms as we stand before him. “Who is the lovely woman by your side?”

  I hesitate, looking at Aedre instead of my liege. By now the hall has quieted. Everyone will be speaking of this for some time.

  Aedre looks at me and nods, smiling. Answering my question.

  The words I said to her father run through my mind, as they’ve done so often since I left.

  Your daughter asked me to leave Murwood End without seeing her. So I would ask that you deliver her a message. I love her and would marry her. Tell her I am sorry for not sharing my suspicions of her relationship with Kipp sooner. I leave my heart behind, though I do not wish to do so, because it is Aedre’s choice to love me back or nay.

  He pressed me, of course, for details that were not mine to share.

  I refused to say anything more, but I gave him the pin Galfrid had given me in recognition of my post. And I vowed that if he should ever find himself in d’Almerita, there would be a place for him as a castle smith. He could spend his days forging shields and swords instead of nails and hinges.

  I ended by telling him, “You will be welcomed into court, where I will gladly be honored to make Aedre my wife.”

  Assured by her nod, I turn back to the king as Aedre offers a deep curtsy.

  “I would introduce you . . .” I remember how she introduced herself to me. Not ashamed of her ancestors but proud. Meria will accept her. I will see to it. “I would introduce you to Lady Aedre, daughter of Dal Lorenson, descendant of Athea.”

  Galfrid does not flinch, but that last bit certainly did not go unnoticed by the crowd at my back. None speak of Athea here, blaming her for having broken the kingdom into two. But that was many, many years ago. And if she broke it, then Meria was fragile indeed.

  “And,” I add, “my future wife.”

  I’ve managed to surprise him.

  And Galfrid doesn’t like surprises.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Aedre

  “Will that be all, my lady?”

  “Aye, thank you.”

  Though Vanni’s bedchamber is dark, the maid has set out enough candles to cast a soft glow. Assuring me of her discretion, Vanni left us, promising to return soon.

  This particular wing of the castle is meant for the Curia alone. My father’s chamber is so far away, I fear I might never find it again.

  I will have to, of course. It would not do well to stay the night here. But I will admit, as I wait for him to return, the excitement of being with him again has helped to push aside any trepidation.

  Where is he?

  I move to the open shutters, marveling at how much warmer it is here than back home. Or what was my home.

  The Kingdom of Meria.

  I’d always thought of it as some distant place on the other side of the mountains. And now, Father and I will live here.

  Father didn’t tell me about Vanni’s offer at first. Not until I admitted I did indeed love him.

  I was miserable after he left. Father and Kipp had to coax me to dress, to eat. I chastised myself for sending him away. For refusing to at least speak with him before he left. My mind was so fixed on him, on our time together, that I could feel him, at times, in the bed beside me.

  My misery was such that Kipp finally told my father what he knew about my involvement with Vanni . . . which was when it became clear to Father that my heart was indeed broken, not just from Amma’s death, but from losing Vanni. He told me of Vanni’s message, of the token he had given him, and tears flowed down my cheeks for a different reason: I knew we would be separated from Kipp. He promised to find a way to see us, however, and Father said we would return to Murwood on occasion too.

  We left three days later after a tearful parting with friends, acquaintances, and Agnar, who I will miss dearly. And, of course, Kipp. The journey was an interesting one. I saw things I’d never dreamed of, such as the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, a very different sight than seeing those same waves from the safety of the shore. And through it all, I felt a strong sense of anticipation. Of being with Vanni again. Of kissing him again. Of doing more.

  Walking into that hall, I was more nervous than I’d ever been in all my life. Until I saw him.

  Then I knew right away I’d made the right decision.

  As Amma had said, all would be well.

  In d’Almerita.

  The door opens. No fur-covered blankets adorn the massive bed inside. Instead, airy curtains give the chamber a very otherworldly feel.

  Vanni closes it, turning the key with a click, which announces his intentions clearly. I’ve thought about this moment so many times that when he reaches me, his hand sliding behind my head, I wonder if this is actually happening.

  Without a word, he closes his eyes and kisses me. Tenderly, with a longing and need that I completely understand. The kiss is tentative at first, but it quickly grows deeper. I pour all of my frustration and sadness, my hope and love into him.

  When he pulls away, I’m left utterly breathless.

  “What took so long?”

  “Mmmm,” he responds, kissing behind my ear. “I had to make arrangements.”

  His lips move down my neck, trailing a path of fire in their wake.

  “What type of arrangements?”

  He stops his ministrations to pull away and look at me.

  “We were to leave tomorrow for Highburn Castle, to meet with Lord Hinton.”

  “Were?”

  “Aye. The journey has been delayed for a day.” He pauses, looking into my eyes. “For our wedding.”

  I open my mouth, but before words can come out, he adds, “I’ve learned my lesson, Aedre. If you would prefer to wait, we’ll wait. But I didn’t wish to be parted from you for any reason, and things are different here than in Murwood End. I’d not have you travel with me amid whispers of impropriety. Unless you wish it, then whispers be damned. ’Tis your choice, but I would very much like to make you my wife on the morrow. If you’ll have me.”

  I rest my hand on his cheek.

  “’Tis what I came here to do. But is it safe, to go to Highburn Castle with you?”

  His hand covers mine.

  “Aye. I would never put you in danger.”

  Vanni doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead, he spins me around to face away fr
om him, the move so perfectly executed it’s as if he’s planned that all eve. I can feel the dress loosening with each tug.

  “How did you know it was tied back there?”

  His laugh has a dangerous edge. He finishes loosening the ties, slipping my sleeves down ever so slowly. If I thought the anticipation of seeing him again could not be outdone, I was sorely mistaken.

  I step out of the dress and reach down to slip off my shoes. When I stand back up, he’s behind me again, and I can feel every inch of him.

  “How could you have undressed so quickly?”

  I try to turn around, but he won’t let me. Instead, Vanni presses against me. One hand wraps around to my breast as the other slides up my thigh.

  “I’ve skills you have yet to learn about, Aedre,” he whispers in my ear.

  And then his hand is there, at the core of me. As is a chair that he apparently moved closer without my noticing.

  “I guess you do,” I say, referring to his trick with the chair.

  “Lift your leg. There.”

  When I prop one foot on the chair, his fingers enter me fully, his entire length pressing against me from behind.

  “Tomorrow we wed,” he says, his breath tickles my ear. “But tonight I make you mine, Aedre.”

  Last time, the pressure built and built until it finally spilled over. This time, maybe because the anticipation has been building for so long, I begin to shudder almost immediately.

  When I look down to see his bare arm around me, strong and sure, the tremors intensify. With the same deftness that saw him disrobing so quickly, he lifts my shift over my head, moving us toward the bed.

  Once on it, Vanni lies back and pulls me on top of him.

  “You are in control as much as I am,” he says, reaching up to touch me just about everywhere. I’ve never felt so . . . worshipped. “In bed and out of it.”

  I get into a more comfortable position, knowing how this works even though I’ve not yet experienced it.

  I am, after all, a Garra. So, reaching down, I stroke Vanni as if I’d done so many times before. His moans of pleasure encouraging, I guide him toward me. Seeing me struggle, Vanni lends his help, sinking in deeper and deeper.