Page 39
When I do, the king looks at me. I do not flinch.
How Aiken’s man procured this gown, a perfectly fitting light blue and silver creation, so quickly, or even how he gained this audience the very night of our arrival, I do not know.
Since we came to d’Almerita, Aiken has been more like the man I first met than my companion of this past fortnight. Gone was the relaxed man who had been open to talking and sharing or even smiling, replaced by the man of silence and mystery. That establishment he took us to, the Ale and Bedde, was no less an enigma, unlike any inn we visited along the way, and despite how many times I asked about that strange place, it remained yet as mysterious as my companion.
There was little to complain about with my bath at the inn, however. Though the wooden tub was smaller than most, after so many days on the road, it was most luxurious and most welcome. Then a lady’s maid appeared from nowhere to dress my hair and offer the perfectly fitted gown I wear now. At the height of fashion, its sleeves are long and as low as its neckline, its silver-belted chain glittering with blue gems that match the gown itself.
“Princess, welcome to Castle d’Almerita.”
“My thanks, King Galfrid. It has been many years since we’ve met. I am sorry for your loss.”
He nods but says nothing of the loss of his son as his onlookers watch the exchange. “Many rumors swirl upon your arrival. Tell me how you’ve come to be here.”
As he’s known for his bluntness, the question does not surprise me.
“My husband, Lord Whitley, had planned to attack your border village of Craighcebor. He and his allies continue to press my sister for war against Meria as retaliation for Oryan,” I say, equally as blunt. “I had no choice but to accompany him, which is where Father Aiken—” pausing, I look at Aiken, who knows what I plan to say, “—found me.”
“Found you?” asks one of the king’s Curia. A commander by the looks of him.
“May I be permitted to address you and your king, Lord d’Abella?” Aiken says, stepping forward.
“Greetings, Father Aiken,” this Lord d’Abella says. “Aye, you may.”
The king turns his attention to Aiken, who opens his mouth to speak, glances quickly at me, and then closes it.
He knows Aiken. The glimmer of recognition is unmistakable. But, oddly, he addresses him as one would a stranger.
“I found myself in Craighcebor, circumstances beyond my or the lady’s control having thrown us together. Fearing for her safety from those who may not separate her husband’s deeds and her own, we came here.”
Aiken holds back the truth, that he abducted me. It would not serve my cause to plant the same seed of doubt that Aiken initially had with regard to my involvement. The ease with which the Elderman lies is one of many qualities these past days I’ve had difficulty reconciling Aiken as a man of God.
Such as the way he looks at me, especially.
“We request safe passage to Breywood for Lady Hilla,” he finishes.
The king clearly has many questions. But instead of asking them, he leans forward.
“You’ve my protection while you remain at d’Almerita, Lady Hilla.”
“Many thanks, King Galfrid,” I say, offering a deep curtsy. If he would offer his protection, I will use the opportunity to further my sister’s goal of peace between our kingdoms. I’d expected his skepticism about my motives, but instead he seems content to take Aiken at his word.
“And of course”—he inclines his head slightly to acknowledge my silent offer of a temporary truce—“safe passage to Breywood.”
He looks at one of the other men beside him.
“Ren, see to the lady’s comforts.”
And then to me.
“We will meet again tomorrow?”
I curtsy again, thankful for the opportunity but confused at how easily he’s accepted our story.
“I look forward to it, my liege.”
The man named Ren waits for me just as the king stops Aiken.
“I would speak to you, Father.”
