Page 52 of The King’s Commander

“Then you’ve heard we have visitors?”

A visit by the king’s men would likely be one of the first pieces of news Kipp learned of upon his return. Not because everyone knows his secret, for they don’t, but because it is the most significant thing to have happened in Murwood End of late.

“Aye.”

Suspicious now, Kipp’s jaw ticks as it is wont to do.

“What were you told of them?”

Crossing his arms, Kipp leans back in his chair, legs outstretched. I will not tell him, for his sorrow at his adoptive father’s passing has not yet abated, but Kipp reminds me very much of him at this moment. In this position.

“There are four of them. Their leader is King Galfrid’s commander.”

I nod.

“The commander has bested many men, including Agnar, since he arrived less than a sennight ago.”

“You are well-informed.”

He frowns. “Though not as well-informed as you, I presume?”

If only Kipp knew the whole truth. I debate telling him, as I usually share everything with him, more so even than Amma. But this feels . . . different.

Something in my expression must put him on alert, for he leans forward, no longer relaxed at all. Knowing Kipp as I do, I blurt out the news so as not to delay the inevitable.

“The prince is dead. Drowned in a shipwreck. They’re here to convince you to return with them.”

I wait for him to grasp the full import of my words.

“Return with them . . .”

Bracing for his reaction, I say, “To be named as King Galfrid’s successor.”

Eyes wide, Kipp jumps from his seat, curses tumbling from his mouth.

I stand, look out to the sea, and wait for him to calm.

“Whoreson. He thinks I would do such a thing?” I do not answer, knowing he is speaking to himself. “After all these years . . . he only cares to remember who I am now that his precious son is dead. God rest his soul.”

Kipp is not a cruel man, so I’m thankful he added the last bit, though the sentiment surprises me too. He has never been a religious man.

He turns to me. “No,” he says adamantly. “Never.”

Sighing, I push the shutters open wider. From up here, we can hear the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. Who could live apart from the sea? I could not dream of it.

“There is more I should tell you.”

Kipp’s shoulders rise and fall, his anger understandable. If Prince Matteo had not died in that shipwreck, Kipp would not be in the line of succession at all. And I know he’s never gotten over his anger at his true father—the man who seduced his mother, then exiled her from court.

Still . . .

“I have gotten to know the commander.”

Kipp turns to me, eyes narrowed.

“I told him I would gain an audience with you.”

Kipp is already shaking his head.