“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.
“Most especially a Curia commander. But you must go.”
“Aye,” I agree, “I must.”
She stands, with some struggle. I leap forward to help, but she shoves my hand away. Amma will not allow any to coddle her, even me.
“Kipp could return at any time. We must learn why the king has sent for him,” she says.
“He will not go with them.”
“No.” She appears thoughtful. “He will not. But Kipp will be better prepared if we learn their purpose. ’Tis been many years since the king has attempted to claim him.”
So why now? Does it have anything to do with the latest disputes at the border?
“Be careful, my child. If I were stronger, I’d accompany you.”
I hate that Amma rarely leaves the manor. These days, her longest walks are to the forge. Distances and stairs pose difficulties for her.
“I will be well,” I assure her, tying a gold-threaded rope belt around my waist. “He is kind enough, for a nobleman.”
Amma lifts her chin. “Do not mistake cunning for kindness.”
“Of course.”
“And I will deal with your father.”
I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the scent that is uniquely my grandmother. “Thank you, Amma.”
She lets go.
“Be well, child.” She looks into my eyes. “I do not like this. Not at all.”
Amma’s instincts are never wrong. Her words send a chill through me, but I end our conversation by saying, “But all is well in Murwood.”
I’ve grown up with that expression, used to end all conversations about happenings in the two kingdoms we distance ourselves from.
“All is well in Murwood,” she repeats.
But her expression belies her words.
Chapter Eight Vanni
“How are the men?”
Thomas winks at a maid, who smiles back at him as she passes us. Another day, another maid for Thomas to flirt with. Standing at the front of the inn, waiting for Aedre, my companion attracts more attention than I would wish.
“Going mad,” he answers.
We’ve been in Murwood End for one full day. I’m restless and imagine the others feel the same way. While they spent the
