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Meria was once the only kingdom on this isle, which was simply called Meria back then. More than a hundred and fifty years ago, a noblewoman, Lady Edina, sought out a Garra, a love healer, to make the king fall in love with her. He did, and King Onry and Queen Edina’s twin sons were later born. When the king later chose his younger son as heir, Prince Aidan, the elder twin by mere minutes, fled Meria with his supporters.

Those men made homes in the previously uninhabited Loigh Mountains. Their community grew. Fifty years and many battles later, the Treaty of Loigh was signed, recognizing the Kingdom of Edingham. With Meria to the west, Edingham to the east, along with the smaller contingent of fierce, independent people who inhabit the frigid north, Murwood End, the Isle was split into three kingdoms, or at least, two official ones.

No king, or queen, reigns in the north. Nor likely ever will.

Although peace has always been a tentative one, when the border village of Saitford was attacked, innocent Merians losing their lives, King Galfrid sent more than two hundred of his best knights across the sea toward Edingham’s Galmouth Bay in retaliation. None know what the outcome of battle might have been as the ship carrying Galfrid’s only son and heir sank. All but one man was lost.

The tentative peace was threatened once again as Lord Whitley, the husband of my companion, and his warmongering allies thought to recreate the attack on Saitford village in order to provoke a counterattack. For such men, war means instability. Which threatens the queen’s rule. Men like Whitley, who see a woman ruler as unnatural, would like nothing better than for Cettina to fail.

Meanwhile, the man I serve, the leader of the church, is a bigger threat than anyone in Meria, or Edingham, realizes. Tis my mission to stop him from seizing more power before it becomes impossible to waylay him. Lady Hilla is not part of my plans.

“You wish for me to believe you’re no threat to your sister. And yet, I find you sneaking away from where you were holed up with your traitorous husband. Now, I ask a simple question, and you cannot answer truthfully.”

“Simple?” Her nostrils flare. “Tis anything but a simple question, Father.”

I wince internally. I’m long past feeling guilt for posing as an Elderman.

“Aiken. You may call me by my given name.”

The lady blinks. “’Twould be disrespectful to do so.”

I point out the irony of her words. “Disrespectful to a man who took you against your will?”

She considers that point.

“Very well, Aiken.”

I nearly smile at the vitriol with which she says my name.

“You do realize, speaking of my captivity, I could simply begin to scream and alert the others to my identity rather than sit amicably with a man who, as you say, took me against my will?”

I realize the fact well. Which is why I’ve watched closely for signs of Lady Hilla doing just that.

“Aye, you could do so. But then, you may end up in the hands of a man with ill intentions toward you. One offering his body instead of a hot meal and bed.”

Her eyes widen.

“I should be grateful that you’ve not raped me?”

Although we are separated from most others, the hall is filled with both villagers and travelers. Most ignore us, though a curious few have looked our way from time to time. Mostly wondering, I am sure, what a woman such as Lady Hilla is doing with an Elderman, alone.

“You should consider your options carefully.”

She takes a long sip of ale.

“Besides, if you can answer my questions, I will happily give you what you want.”

Hilla looks at me, hopeful.

“To return me to Cettina?” she whispers.

Though she may be lying to me even now, her fervent wish to return to her sister plays into the lady’s innocence. Either she was an unwilling participant in her husband’s duplicities, as she claims, or else Lady Hilla has the utmost confidence that she can convince the queen of her innocence.

Cettina is an intelligent woman. Surely she knows her sister better than any other and can discern any malicious intent.

Of course, those who love us most also have the ability to do us the greatest harm.

“Perhaps if you told me why you are so keen to help my sister I would feel more compelled to answer your question.”