“I know Aedre told you of the shipwreck. Two hundred men perished, including the prince.”
“Two hundred men to attack Edingham?”
His tone reeks of disapproval.
“After Saitford was attacked in the middle of the night. A Borderer set fire to the village, claiming nearly half of those who lived there. Women and children included.”
When Kipp recoils at that, my hopes are buoyed a bit.
“Could the king not have appealed to Queen Cettina?”
The way he says “the king” leaves no doubt: Kipp hates his father. I cannot blame him for it, but Galfrid wishes to atone for his mistake . . . and the only way he can is if Kipp grants him an audience.
“Their last negotiation left the very man responsible for the attack in charge of the Marches in Edingham.”
A buffer on both sides of the river had been agreed to, anger at the Highlanders for having left Meria lingering even so many years later often boiling to a bubble. Or sometimes spilling over the pot.
Kipp makes a sound of disgust. “You mean Death Mountains?”
A term I dislike.
“Calling them so incites the Borderers to the very kind of violence that saw so many innocent people die in Saitford.”
“Yet your king’s solution to the violence is more violence?”
“He makes decisions with the Curia’s input. If you disagree with them, blame me as well as Galfrid.”
Kipp shrugs. “Very well. Then you are equally culpable.”
“Unlike you, we do not have the luxury to be so separated from our enemy that they can be ignored.”
Though not impossible to cross, the Loigh Mountain are a natural barrier between Murwood and both nations. Murwood is easily reached by sea, of course. Yet they remain stubbornly independent from the rest of the Isle.
“We can debate the merits of the attack, but I can assure you, Master Aldwine, the character of the king’s nephew is not in question. None who know him think he will be anything but a disaster, both for the Kingdom of Meria and for those who are close to us. The king will never name him as heir.”
From Aldwine’s expression, it’s obvious he knows his cousin’s reputation well.
“Lord Hinton will take the throne by force?”
“He will not need to. The church sees his survival as a sign from God of his divine right to rule. In truth, it’s naught but a sign of his weakness. Hinton was on the vessel but disembarked before it sailed. They say he had no stomach for it after a night of drinking.”
If Aldwine was disgusted before, he is more so now.
“The Prima is a fool, his followers even more so for their blind allegiance to him. I’ve no qualms with the church’s teachings, but Father Silvester has led too many astray.”
I drink, not disagreeing with him. But many in Meria would do so. Unfortunately, some find it difficult to separate the flawed leadership of the church from the religion they practice.
Despite the hard edge of Aldwine’s tone, I am more hopeful as he continues to listen and ask questions.
He tilts his head, studying me. “What did Father Beald do to earn your ire?”
An abrupt change of subject, but it is an easy enough question to answer.
“He threatened Aedre and spoke ill of Lady Edrys. In this very hall.”
Aldwine grabs his mug, his expression neutral, and sits back against the wall behind his stool.
“You care for Aedre?”
Every word he speaks sits atop a sword’s edge. Kipp Aldwine is not a man I would wish as an enemy.
“Aye.”
“Yet you will leave here, never to return?”
He stares at me with an intensity that matches—or exceeds—the look Aedre’s father gave me, and the inquiry in his eyes reminds me of her grandmother. The question is not a foreign one. I’ve been asking myself the same thing, over and over, since last eve.
After leaving Aedre, I returned to the very spot where she allowed me to give her pleasure. Where we spoke at length for the first time. Where, against the background of stormy seas, she crept inside my soul.
I imagine riding from Murwood End, looking back to watch her as I take my leave. The image fills me with despair. And yet, I likely won’t be able to return. Meria is poised on the brink of war. With itself. And with Edingham, always. Nor is it an option to bring her with me. I know she will never leave her family.
Another thought haunts the back of my mind. I lose focus here in Murwood. There is a reason the Shadow Warriors take the same vow of celibacy as the men they serve. If I marry, I’ll worry more about my wife’s safety than my king’s.
I take a sip of ale, trying to calm my seething thoughts. “We were discussing the church and Meria’s future.”
I don’t think Aldwine will let it go, so I’m not surprised when he says, “Neither the church nor the future of Meria concerns me overly much.”
“And when Lord Hinton becomes king, do you not care for his distaste of the Voyagers’ independence from Merian rule? His thirst for war?”
It is the best argument I have, knowing Aldwine cares little about the south and even less for his father.
“If Hinton attempts to take Murwood End, many lives will be forfeit for the effort.”
He says it with such calm certainty that I don’t doubt him.
By sea, they are unmatched. By land, any advantage of larger numbers will be lost with the difficulty of fighting in the difficult terrain of the Loigh Mountains. The potential gain too little for such a steep price. But Hinton might be dull-witted enough to try it, his distaste for the “savages” well known.
“That’ll be little comfort to those who die on both sides. We need you, Aldwine,” I state plainly. “Your father needs you.”
His only reaction is to take a long swig of ale. Mug empty, he leans forward to fill it from the tankard.
“My father was killed fourteen years ago.”
“I’m sorry for that,” I say sincerely. “He
