“I could, but will not.”
“Mmm. ’Tis a shame. Perhaps I could be persuaded to tell you more of our mission here if you were to allow me to retain your services.”
My mouth forms into a wide O, my jaw nearly dropping to the ground.
“You would not?”
I say it even though I very much believe he would hold his purpose here hostage.
“Aye,” he says. “I would.”
My mind works quickly. As much as I would like to gain access to his information, I could never agree to such an outrageous proposal.
First, he has no actual ailment, only a contrived one.
Second, my father would never agree to it.
Third, his intentions are not clear to me.
“Why do you make such an offer?”
Is he a lecher after all? I do not believe so, but what other reason could he have? The commander has no way of knowing I am aware of the circumstances of Kipp’s birth. Few people are aware the king has a bastard son, although he has clearly informed his Curia. If the commander is not using me to gain access to Kipp, why does he want me to treat an ailment he does not possess?
“You intrigue me,” he says.
I watch for signs of ill intent. Of dishonesty.
But he does not look away. Nor does he use his hands overly much after saying those words that set my heart to racing. His voice is strong, his eyes equally so.
“I do not like you.” While not a lie, it is also not precisely the truth.
“Perhaps one of the reasons I am intrigued,” he says, his lips tipping up.
“Nor do I believe you need treatment.”
“There is but one way for you to find out.”
Father will kill me.
“My fee is high.”
“I will pay it.”
“Why?” I ask again.
The commander leans forward, putting his ale on the table between us. “You looked me in the eyes the moment we met.”
True enough. Then again, I do not believe it is a sin to do so. Despite what the church teaches, the mere act of looking directly into a man’s eyes cannot tempt him into sin. And if it were possible, it would be a mark of the man’s weak character.
“And I do so now,” I prod.
“Indeed.”
I can hear my very heartbeat in my ears as we look at each other. In the end, there is but one answer.
I need to find out more information for Kipp.
Or so I tell myself.
“I will do it. But you must tell me why you are here.”
His men grow silent, proof that they’ve been listening to our conversation despite their chatter.
“I’ll answer one of your questions each time we meet,” he offers.
“About your reasons for being in Murwood End?”
“Aye. One each visit.”
I empty my ale, stand, and say, “Very well. Then we shall meet here tomorrow at this time.”
The bargain is one that favors me. Vanni d’Abella will get nothing from it he does not already have. So why do I feel like I’m about to lose everything?
Chapter Six Vanni
“’Tis a foolish plan.”
The others have retired to the private quarters provided by the innkeeper. Only Sir Thomas and I remain in the common room, though I’m beginning to regret the decision to stay for one more ale.
“You’ve a better one?”
As the night wears on, the crowd decidedly more bawdy than before, I ignore the urge to engage with those who watch us. If we’re to stay in Murwood End to await Master Aldwine’s return, we must not engage in battle with the people here. But one man in particular, who’s been watching us all eve, his jaw tight with aggression, makes my fingers twitch.
“Than seeking treatment by a Garra for a made-up condition so you can gain information that will give us access to the boy? Aye. We intercept him on his return.”
There was no mention of her being a Garra, but if this is the same woman rumored to be as a sister to Aldwine, I may gain more than just information. But I could be wrong and will keep the thought to myself.
Thomas, a good friend in addition to his role as Knight Commander in the Curia, raises his hand to the maid, whom we’ve learned is the innkeeper’s daughter. Comely, perhaps having seen twenty or so summers, she appears, like most women, to have fallen for Thomas’s charms.
“Ale, my lord?”
“He is the only lord here, mistress. I am but a humble servant of the king.”
“Humble servant indeed,” I mutter. The irony is not lost on me. He may be pressing me about Aedre, but he’s a merciless flirt.
The maid smiles coyly at Thomas as she walks away.
“Careful, Thomas,” I say. “If we’re to stay here, you’d do well not to dip your oar in that water.”
“Says the man who’s meeting the Garra for no good reason.”
True enough.
“Does she so freely practice here without repercussion?” he asks.
“Apparently.”
Thomas’s maid returns with his ale, and while he speaks with her, I think of Aedre. Did she agree to meet me simply for coin? Or did I detect a hint of attraction from her?
“I don’t like it.” Thomas, finished with the maid, leans forward. “Hinton will be gathering support even now. And yet we sit here, idle, doing naught about it.”
“Naught but securing the one man who can challenge his claim.”
I wave my hand, ignoring my drunken foe, who’s looking at me even now.
“This is the most important battleground, Thomas. If we leave here without him . . .”
I drink to avoid finishing that thought. If we leave here without him, Meria is doomed to be ruled by a cruel and inept king. A man who cares for naught but securing the power his father, the king’s brother, was never able to claim. Of course, King Galfrid could name another heir. Some distant kin with tenuous ties to the royal family. But Hinton has a silver tongue that belies his base nature. Some men care more for advancing their own positions than they do for the good of the realm. And those
