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Aiken darts a quick glance at me as I allow Ren to escort me from the chamber. More convinced now than ever that there is more to Aiken than I’ve been led to believe, I leave with the knowledge that, before this night is over, the Elderman will provide answers.

19

Aiken

A

s the chamber doors close behind Hilla, the commander approaches, giving me his hand. Shaking it, I’m surprised to see Galfrid standing to approach us as well.

“Well met, my friend,” d’Abella says. “I do hope you will be in the capital long enough to finally settle our contest of skills.”

The last time I’d stayed here at Castle d’Almerita, the commander and I challenged each other during his visit, his skills with the sword renown. He defeated me the first day. And I him, on the second. We agreed on a rematch when I next returned.

Exchanging a glance with Baldric’s son Roger, I nod, just barely, as King Galfrid extends his hand to me. I reach out with my own, unsurprised his grip is so strong.

“We’ve much to discuss this night,” I start, fully cognizant of Roger’s continued attempt to assess my motives. I’d have spoken to him first but had been brought to the king the moment I announced Lady Hilla’s presence to gain this audience with His Majesty.

“Come.” The king leads us to a large circular table in the corner of the chamber. “Sit, and explain how you came to be at the tournament at the behest of the Prima but are here now after warning my men of an attack. Vanni offered few details,” he admits.

I sit and catch Roger’s eye again.

He shakes his head.

The king, and Vanni, believe me to be Silvester’s man. But more important is the oath. That no living man or woman should learn the truth unless lives will be lost in keeping our secret. A tricky thing, determining whether or not a life is truly at risk.

I open my mouth to explain when Roger interrupts.

“The princess,” he asks. “What have you learned from her?”

Galfrid looks between us, clearly confused by his man’s behavior. When the king asks a question, an answer is expected. But I bide my time, answering Roger first. He is delaying, making certain this is the correct move. The king knows of Baldric, and the Legion, but not of my true identity. Lord d’Abella knows neither. Are Roger and I breaking the oath by telling them?

Nay, I do not believe so. Not with the kingdom in peril if Hinton is not defeated.

“I’ve learned,” I say honestly, “she has no love for her husband. She’d been forced to travel with him to Craighcebor and was glad he had been caught.”

At my words, all three men stiffen. An uncomfortable silence fills the air. Do they question her loyalty to Whitley? Our travel had been slow, so word of the attack had already reached them before we arrived. Had the whispers of her potential involvement reached them as well?

“I will not allow Lady Hilla’s name to be disparaged any further,” I say as sternly as I’m able in the presence of the king. “She had no foreknowledge of the attack and, in fact, had been feeding information to her sister against him. I believe,” I say, leaning forward in my seat, “tis as they say. Queen Cettina desires peace with Meria. This attack on Craighcebor was instigated by traitors to the Kingdom of Edingham. The fact that Queen Cettina’s men defended a Merian village and thwarted the attack proves they do not conspire against you, King Galfrid. The princess simply has the misfortune of being married to a detestable man who is a traitor to his own queen.”

“Father Aiken,” d’Abella interrupts, but I continue. If the king believes Hilla guilty of conspiring with her husband, it will not go well for her. “You will remember she had no choice on the marriage. I learned much of her on our journey here.” I cannot say anything further without breaking Hilla’s confidence. But I will not have the king thinking poorly of a woman who is guilty of nothing more than loyalty to her sister.

“Aiken,” Roger says, drawing the attention of both d’Abella and the king. Galfrid knows I am no Elderman, but the commander does not. The pretense of my title dropped, my longtime friend, and brother-in-arms, ignores the others and addresses me alone. “Hilla is not married to a traitor any longer.”

I look between him and the others, not understanding.

“Lord Whitley is dead,” d’Abella says.

His words are like the point of a sword finding its mark. “Dead?”

“Aye,” Roger says. “He was promptly tried and convicted of treason. Executed that very same day. A merchant sailing from Galmouth Bay brought the news two days past.”

The chamber grows silent. Tis the very bay in which the Oryan was set to land. If they’d done so it would have been one of the largest attacks on Edingham in recent years. Instead, the ship sank, and with it, Galfrid’s son and heir.

Whitley is dead. Hilla, a widow.

I look to the king.

“Is this merchant to be believed? I’ve heard no rumors of this since arriving.”