He knows a little about Aedre, those facts which were important for me to relay in terms of Aldwine. 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
