Page 65 of Taken By the Elderman

Aiken

We’d been expecting a missive. Instead, Hilla and I find ourselves riding away from Sailor’s Inn on borrowed mounts.

After finding us at the inn, the messenger—now riding ahead of us—gave us no time to break our fast. If we wanted to speak to Aldwine, he would escort us immediately to Nord Manor, to stay the night as his guests as we would be trapped there for the evening on the tidal island. Having spied Nord Manor as we sailed into Murwood End, we immediately understood. On the eastern edge of the village, the impressive structure is built atop a massive rock island, the base of which becomes submerged at high tide, making it impossible to come or go.

Quickly packing our bags, bidding adieu to Salvi and the others who had not received such an invitation, despite—or perhaps because of—being official representatives of the king. Hilla glances my way now as we ride down a long, wet sand path that leads up to what some might consider a small castle. Built, I’ve been told, by Aldwine’s father. Not Galfrid, but the man who had raised him.

The sight before us is a beautiful one. The vast sea, cold and unforgiving, lies just behind the lone structure sitting atop a rock outcropping. It is an even more magnificent sight up close. But not as magnificent as the one to my left.

We rode so often together, I’ve rarely seen her astride a horse herself as she is now. Hilla has never looked more like a princess than this moment, except perhaps when she first entered Galfrid’s throne room. Back straight, her fur-lined mantle covers both her and the borrowed mount, her hair spilling around her in every direction courtesy of the cool gusts of wind around us.

She catches me looking.

Early this morn I woke, leaving her and promising to return. But I did not do so immediately, simply dressing and taking my leave. At first, I lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling above me, thinking only one thing.

How could I leave her?

If Aldwine refuses, which we are all prepared for him to do, then I return south. To join the battle. To serve Silvester, possibly. My course is uncertain and will be determined by the Legion. Either way, tis no life for a princess, especially if I continue to play the role of Elderman.

Hilla will return to Breywood Castle, to take her rightful place as the sister of the queen. A widow beholden to no one. As she deserves.

As always, the thought of it, of us parting, feels as if my chest is being ripped open. As we make our way through the gatehouse to a small inner courtyard, I attempt to turn my attention from the woman riding by my side.

Dismounting not far from the front doors of the large manor, our horses quickly being taken away by a stablehand, we follow the Voyager who had come to fetch us. The bright morning sunlight streams in through more windows than I would expect from such a fortress. I suppose the tidal island enjoys some natural fortifications.

A servant approaches us. “Father. My lady. I would take your mantles from you. Master Aldwine is waiting abovestairs, in the solar.”

With no sign now of the man who brought us here, we follow the gangly servant, who has seen no more than twenty summers, up a winding staircase. He leaves us at the entrance of the last door in a corridor so long it must run the length of the manor.

Pushing it open, the servant bids us enter.

Before learning of Kipp Aldwine’s true identity, I’d already heard of the man’s name many times. Rumors swirl around the Isle of the man’s strength and deftness with the sword. His talent from his father, no doubt.

Dressed simply in braies and a linen tunic, he stands as we enter. No one—not King Galfrid nor even Baldric, indeed no Shadow Warrior or Voyager or any man whom I’ve met in my life—has made a chill sweep my body with his mere presence as this man is provoking in me now.

My eyes dart to Hilla, who is openly staring. No face is more perfect. No man’s body is more finely sculpted. Awash in jealousy over the look she gives him, I am stunned as Aldwine bows deeply.