Sword tip pointed to his neck, I back away, addressing the small crowd that has gathered.
“I am Lord Vanni d’Abella, Curia Commander to King Galfrid. Aye, a Southerner. But I’ve no fight with you. Our purpose here is a peaceful one.”
I pull away, sheathing my sword, and reach for my opponent’s hand.
And wait.
Finally, to a round of cheers, he shakes it. Thomas hands the man his sword.
“I have no fight with you,” I repeat.
He responds by snatching his sword and thanking Thomas with a scowl. But my purpose has been served. Although not as fruitful as I would have liked, the day was hardly a disaster.
“Come. ’Tis time to find our beds.”
Thomas follows me back into the inn’s small hall, and I take a deep, calming breath, giving silent thanks no blood was shed this night.
Chapter Seven
Aedre
“Amma!” I sit up in my bed, surprised to see her in my chamber so early. My grandmother has never been an early riser.
“Good morn, my child.”
Though she uses the term each day, I smile every time. Opening the shutters, she moves toward my bed and sits. Amma moves more slowly of late, and it worries me.
“You spoke to your father last eve?”
Though our manor house is no castle, it is large enough to provide ample room for my father and me, my grandmother, and one maidservant. It is a comfortable home, the only one I’ve known.
“Aye.”
It was not a pleasant conversation, especially since I had to tell him I’d not be at the forge today. Balancing apprenticing for him and training with Amma has been a lifelong struggle, and one that I very much long to end.
“He was not happy, but I secured two bushels of grain from Lord Bailor for easing his joints, so Father was much appeased.”
“You kept the mixture in the pot until ’twas deep red?”
I throw off the coverlet and rise from the bed.
“Aye, Amma. And used hallowleek as well.”
“Oh?”
Plump, grey-haired, and always smiling, Amma is the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I look at her now as she waits for me to answer. For a moment, I’m overcome with a feeling of abundance. She’s so much more than a grandmother to me—she’s a friend and adviser. A teacher. What would I do without her?
Such silly thoughts this morn. Though no sillier than those I had as I laid my head down to sleep. The dark-haired commander refused to go away, even in my dreams.
I make my way to the basin on the table and pick up the cloth that sits beside it. “Do you remember the book Agnar brought back from his last voyage? From the healer in Stoughrock who told him of the hallowleek?”
Amma nods. “I remember.”
“I believe it worked, but will check on Lord Bailor today.”
“Agnar is in love with you, Aedre.”
My hand freezes over the bowl of lavender-scented water.
“Nay. He is but a friend.”
“Aedre?”
“Very well,” I admit. “Still, he is but a friend.” I resume my ministrations, running the wet cloth along my forearm.
“Your father is becoming impatient.”
I know it well.
“I’ve seen just twenty-five summers. Not an old maid . . .”
“But neither a youngin.”
Finished, I slip on a new shift.
“I will marry for love or not at all.”
Amma knows this, so I wonder what has prompted this discussion.
“He blames me for that sentiment.”
I hate when she frowns so. It doesn’t fit her usual disposition.
“And yet, he loves you well.”
Father may wish Amma weren’t training me to be a Garra, a title given only to those with both the blood and training, but he loves us both. Just as he did my mother.
A Garra would never marry a man without love, for she knows the consequences all too well.
“Hmph. So tell me of the commander.”
Wincing, I open my trunk and stare at the gowns stored within it.
“Aedre?”
Pulling out a simple one of deep blue, I close the trunk and shake out the fabric, laying it across the top. A breeze from the open window blows a strand of hair onto my face. Brushing it away, I sit in the wooden chair opposite my grandmother.
“So you already heard about him,” I ask.
Amma knows everything that happens in Murwood End, perhaps even more so than Father. Though I planned to tell her about Lord d’Abella, I wanted to gather my wits about me first.
“You spoke with him?” she presses.
“I did. He shared little of his purpose for being here, so I snuck into Sailor’s Inn and listened to his men. Overheard them speaking of Kipp.”
Amma’s eyes widen.
“Of Kipp?”
She is as protective of him as I am. When Kipp’s mother was cast out of Castle d’Almerita with him, the king’s babe, she made her way here, to Murwood End. My amma and Kipp’s mother grew very close. Eventually, she married the mercenary who’d accompanied her here. I saw less of Kipp in those years as he traveled often with his father, but his mother fell ill and died. Our shared pain over being motherless brought us closer again.
“Aye. They said, ‘His instructions were clear. We don’t return without him.’”
My grandmother crosses herself. She is not an overly religious woman, preferring the teachings of her ancestors to the church’s increasingly zealous guidance. The Shadow Warriors, men who fight for the church, are as feared here in Murwood as they are in the south. At times they’ve been used against both kingdoms when the church disagrees with their edicts. Other times, they fight for the people. Some see them as a force of good against evil, but others dislike their blind devotion to the Prima.
“Why does the king send for him?”
“I do not know but aim to find out. The commander caught me listening to his men, teased me for it, and said he could use a Garra to treat his overly amorous ways. So”—I forge ahead—“I agreed to it. I’m to meet with him this afternoon.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her response.
“Does he truly suffer from such an affliction?”
My heart races at the question. At the thought of meeting him again.
“Nay.”
“What is his intention with you?”
Warmth floods my cheeks.
“He is attracted to you.”
“I believe so.”
Father would forbid such a dangerous arrangement. The very idea of spending time with a man who thinks of me in that way, especially one who has shown a clear disdain for capable women . . .
But it is a risk I will gladly take, for Kipp.
And because you’re attracted to him too, insists a traitorous voice in my head.
“You will meet in a crowded place.”
“Of course.”
“Noblemen cannot be trusted, my child, whether they be from the south or the east. You know what you are.”
“I know it well.”
The lessons of our ancestors, one of whom was killed by such a lord for her skills, linger. That we should be so feared for remedies that can be found within nature, within ourselves, once confused me. But no longer. I see now that as Garra learn, and become stronger, they begin to transcend what can be explained in the natural world alone.