Page 76 of The King’s Commander

“When I came home the night of the feast, she told me all would be well.”

The need to hold her nearly overwhelms me this time, but with her protectors close by, I dare not.

You are her protector too.

I shove away the thought.

“I said nothing to her . . . nothing about us, I mean. I was too embarrassed. But she knew something had happened anyway.”

I can’t help but smile. “A Garra, embarrassed?”

But Aedre doesn’t smile with me. Of course she doesn’t. Her Amma just passed away.

She looks down at her feet. “I do not deserve that title.”

“Of course you do.” Lifting Aedre’s chin, I force her eyes to mine. “Of course you do,” I repeat. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Now that I’m touching her, I don’t want to break our contact, however small.

“I never truly understood desire . . . love.”

Until now, no feeling has ever matched my yearning for my parents to be alive again. My drive to please the king. My devotion to my country. But this longing I feel for Aedre is so deep it stays with me, waking or asleep, and resurfaces at all hours. Every muscle in my body aches to hold her. To comfort her. Every thought in my head is for or of her.

But your situation hasn’t changed, a voice in my head reminds me.

Reluctantly, I drop my hand.

“Can a motherless woman care for a child?” I say.

“Aye, for certain.”

“Can a midwife help a woman give birth to a new babe even if she’s never carried?”

Understanding glimmers in her eyes, and she nods. “You will leave on the morrow.”

She changed the topic utterly without warning, but I’m becoming accustomed to her ways. To her habit of cutting to the point.

“Nay,” I decide, knowing the men will not agree. They have reason to object, and yet . . .

Had Aldwine not returned, we’d still be waiting for him.

“I would meet you,” I say.

If but for one last time.

Aedre glances at the crowd before she answers, and part of me fears she’ll say no. Mayhap she should. “I would like that very much.”

“Come, we’ll find your father.”

Though I want to take her hand as we walk back, I have no right to do so.

“I’m sorry, Vanni,” she says quietly. “I know Kipp has told you he’ll not go south.”

It moves me so much that she’s thinking of my disappointment, after losing such an important person in her life, and I find it hard to answer. Instead, I stop and look into her eyes.

She seems to understand.

I am sorry too. About Kipp. About Lady Edrys.

About us.