Page 71 of The King’s Commander

“Aye.”

“Yet you will leave here, never to return?”

He stares at me with an intensity that matches—or exceeds—the look Aedre’s father gave me, and the inquiry in his eyes reminds me of her grandmother. The question is not a foreign one. I’ve been asking myself the same thing, over and over, since last eve.

After leaving Aedre, I returned to the very spot where she allowed me to give her pleasure. Where we spoke at length for the first time. Where, against the background of stormy seas, she crept inside my soul.

I imagine riding from Murwood End, looking back to watch her as I take my leave. The image fills me with despair. And yet, I likely won’t be able to return. Meria is poised on the brink of war. With itself. And with Edingham, always. Nor is it an option to bring her with me. I know she will never leave her family.

Another thought haunts the back of my mind. I lose focus here in Murwood. There is a reason the Shadow Warriors take the same vow of celibacy as the men they serve. If I marry, I’ll worry more about my wife’s safety than my king’s.

I take a sip of ale, trying to calm my seething thoughts. “We were discussing the church and Meria’s future.”

I don’t think Aldwine will let it go, so I’m not surprised when he says, “Neither the church nor the future of Meria concerns me overly much.”

“And when Lord Hinton becomes king, do you not care for his distaste of the Voyagers’ independence from Merian rule? His thirst for war?”

It is the best argument I have, knowing Aldwine cares little about the south and even less for his father.

“If Hinton attempts to take Murwood End, many lives will be forfeit for the effort.”

He says it with such calm certainty that I don’t doubt him.

By sea, they are unmatched. By land, any advantage of larger numbers will be lost with the difficulty of fighting in the difficult terrain of the Loigh Mountains. The potential gain too little for such a steep price. But Hinton might be dull-witted enough to try it, his distaste for the “savages” well known.

“That’ll be little comfort to those who die on both sides. We need you, Aldwine,” I state plainly. “Your father needs you.”

His only reaction is to take a long swig of ale. Mug empty, he leans forward to fill it from the tankard.

“My father was killed fourteen years ago.”

“I’m sorry for that,” I say sincerely. “He was, as I understand, quite a man.”

For the first time, Aldwine loses his bored, unattached manner.

“You were trained by the Legion of Ash,” he says.

I fill my own mug. I’d suspected he would pick up on that. The move I showed Agnar and Christopher was one any with similar training would recognize.

“I was.” Though I don’t think it will help my cause, I’d be honest with him. “And so was your brother.”

He does not react to that.

“My father served Galfrid. When my parents died, your . . . the king raised me at court. I was trained with the prince.”

With so few members of the Legion remaining, it is likely Aldwine and I are two of the last men to have been trained by them.

He snorted. “He should name you his successor.”

He said it casually, without bitterness or malice. Aldwine does not seem to resent the fact that Galfrid raised me as his own. Worse, he genuinely seems not to care. Kipp Aldwine sees Galfrid as his father as much as I see Father Beald as a man of God, and he is utterly indifferent about our cause.

“He would name his son instead.”

Again, no reaction. Thankfully, he seems less inclined to challenge me to a duel than he was on our first meeting. But my words do not seem to have moved him.

“His son, I am sorry to say, is dead.”

I look around, ensuring we are not overheard. But none are looking our way or are even within earshot.

“Prince Matteo is dead, aye. But you are very much alive. And if you would return with me to d’Almerita, the king would name you as his successor. And Meria would be better for it. You are clearly a natural leader.”

I hold his gaze, Aldwine looking at me with equal parts confidence and challenge. I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. Though I could continue listing all of the reasons he should come with me, I do not doubt Aldwine already understands the ramifications of his decision. Nor will it help to tell him that the king sent him and his mother here, in the company of a man he handpicked to keep them safe. That Galfrid has routinely sent men here to check on his well-being. But he’s been told as much in the past; if it didn’t move him then, it won’t now.

“Come back with me,” I implore him once more.

He opens his mouth to answer me.