Page 6
For all of this Garra’s bravado, she speaks to me for a reason. And I’d know that reason before returning to my men. The call of seagulls drowns out my next words, so I wait until they pass to repeat myself.
“Southerner. King’s man. Call me what you’d like, my lady, but it is you who approached me, not the other way around.”
Her intelligent eyes narrow. “I saw how you looked at her, as if she was a puzzle to solve.”
If there is a puzzle to be solved here in Murwood End, it is not the ship captain but the woman standing before me.
“We’ve no female ship captains in d’Almerita.”
It’s an honest answer, but she clearly dislikes it.
“Or in Meria,” she says, flinging the fact at me like an insult.
“True enough.”
“And how many women serve in the King’s Curia?”
“None.”
“You ask why I’m not hidden? Perhaps you ask the wrong questions.”
Her words echo a sentiment I’ve heard back home—a choir of voices that has grown louder since Edingham crowned their first queen. But none have ever spoken to me quite so openly, so brazenly, as this woman. I goad her, knowing I should not.
“’Tis not the Merian way to insult strangers. But I’ve been told Voyagers have formed their own traditions.”
“Ha! Been told? Have you not been so far north before?”
“Have you been to the other side of the mountains?”
The way she straightens her shoulders is answer enough.
“I am a mere blacksmith’s daughter, not a man who represents a king. Unlike you, who are so well traveled but seem only to know the customs of those who reside in the lofty castle walls of d’Almerita.”
My jaw clenches. I’ve faced opponents who’ve flung worse insults at me. Stared down well-armed soldiers intent on ending my life. Yet somehow this woman has inflamed me more than all of them combined. I nearly say something I’d surely regret, instead settling for a simple question. “What is your name?”
Her eyes narrow.
“You’re correct—I’m the king’s representative. If that means ’tis my responsibility to know all in the kingdom, I’d start with learning your name.”
Despite her low opinion of me, I bow and introduce myself.
“Lord Vanni d’Abella, Curia Commander to King Galfrid of Meria.”
Enjoying her momentary look of surprise, I add, “And I am indeed a stranger to these parts. I’ve been to Murwood End just once, as a boy, with my father.”
When her chin rises, I’m sure my Garra will not reciprocate, but she surprises me.
“Lady Aedre, daughter of Dal Lorenson, descendant of Athea.”
Athea, the first Garra.
The one who broke our kingdom, if the church is to be believed.
I let the name slip from my tongue. “Aedre, you may call me Vanni.”
She is unimpressed that I’ve offered her leave to use my given name. In fact, I am certain very little impresses Aedre, daughter of Dal Lorenson, descendant of Athea.
Myself included.
