It is true none know firsthand the true measure of Kipp Aldwine, but from reports Galfrid has gathered throughout the years, we know he is both strong and honorable. A man unlike Hinton.
“To think Edingham was our biggest threat mere months ago,” I muse. Now, those skirmishes along the border seem inconsequential compared to the chaos our kingdom will endure if this mission fails.
“If the boy refuses to come, Hinton cannot be the answer.”
Though he speaks the words softly, I shake my head. This is not the place to discuss such matters as a vision of Matteo, the man who should have been king, flashes before me.
Once again, I feel the strange pang of knowing I could have been on that boat.
Pushing the thoughts back down, I say, “He is no boy. Master Aldwine has seen more than thirty summers.”
Galfrid still speaks of him as the babe he sent away those many years ago, but Kipp Aldwine is a strong, capable man. From what we’ve heard in the south, he’s reputedly the fiercest of all Voyagers.
“Also not a boy? Your opponent this evening.”
I’m not surprised Thomas has taken notice of the man as well. And he’s right to do so. If we are to stay in Murwood End, the vitriol he’s sending our way, stares that are becoming harder to ignore, cannot be tolerated. It will only encourage bad behavior.
“Shall I get the others?”
“Nay.”
I stand.
“Christ’s body,” Thomas mutters behind me.
Unwilling to spill blood in the very place we’re taking shelter, I break eye contact with the man and stride out the door. The smell of sea air, more crisp than in the south, welcomes me. The docks are dark, quiet, and largely empty, though the moon provides enough light for me to see my adversary as he strides out the door after me.
“Southerner.” He spits on the ground in front of me.
“A king’s man,” one of his companions warns, as if to dissuade him. At least one of the local men has some wits about him.
“The king’s commander,” Thomas informs them both. If he intended for the words to caution the man, they seem to have the opposite effect. He unsheathes his sword.
I sigh. Loudly.
“We have no king here.” He spits again and advances, barely waiting for me to unsheathe my own weapon before raising his against me.
If I were not so weary from travel, I might have enjoyed a bit of sport. But this has been a long day, one I’m ready to end.
So instead of engaging with him, I simply wait for his thrust. When it comes, I rebuff it, knocking his sword from his hand after just three attempts. Not an easy feat given his size and strength, but unlike my opponent, my intent was not to harm or maim.
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
