Page 25 of Taken By the Elderman

Of course my first thought was, why does an Elderman have scouts? But he did not give me any time to dwell on this revelation before launching into what he discovered.

He learned two things.

First, word had already begun to spread that Whitley had been apprehended after attempting to attack the border town and that his wife had gone missing. Apparently, my sister’s men still lingered along the border looking for me even now.

Second, the men following us appeared to be following us still, and Aiken did not believe they were my sister’s men. They’d not reached this town—yet. He had hoped they would have retreated by now, but apparently that did not happen.

I asked how he learned all of this, and of course, he gave me no answers other than to admit he had help in gathering the information.

Oddly, I remain rather unperturbed by the news. Maybe tis the knowledge that, for the first time in as many years, I am free of Whitley. Having been concerned with my own safety, understandably so given the fact that I’d been taken captive, I’d not thought much beyond my present situation.

But now, knowing Aiken truly does believe me and that he does not pose a danger to me, along with hearing confirmation of the fact that Whitley was apparently still my sister’s prisoner, a sense of freedom I’ve not felt, well, ever washes over me.

Free of Whitley, I can feel the relief blooming within me, but so too a sense of unease, arising from the looming sense of danger. It is a strange mix of emotions. But with every ale I am able to forget both.

“Another, my lady?” the serving maid asks as she takes away our empty tankard.

I look at Aiken, who says nothing.

“Aye, if it pleases you, Mistress Coraline.”

When she smiles at my use of her name, her teeth not completely straight, tis a beautiful sight. I’ve not met a person before who isn’t more pleasing to look at when they smile.

Except Whitley, of course. When my husband smiled, ’twas usually cause for concern.

The inn fills, the workday now done. My eyes wander to a man standing near the door as if on guard.

Aiken’s words draw my attention back. “You remembered her name.”

There was a man once, perhaps five or six years ago, who came to court from Murwood End. He was large, like Aiken. And extremely handsome. He looked at me all through the meal, and my insides felt then as they do now.

At the time I thought the Voyager was the most handsome man on the Isle. Even more so than Cettina’s commander, whom all the women at court swooned over. But even he did not hold the appeal that this Elderman does for me.

Such a silly thing, to stare at a man who’d pledged his troth as thoroughly as I had to Whitley. Aiken was married to God, and I’ve no right to stare at his chest so.

“There is nothing so personal, so important, as a person’s name. Tis part of who they are. And so of course I remembered her name,” I say.

Aiken sits back in our little corner of the darkened but lively inn, watching me.