My Highland Bride (Legends of Meria #2) - Cecelia Mecca

1

Erik

Breywood Castle, Kingdom of Edingham

“Do you love her?”

The upper chamber of the gatehouse becomes completely quiet, and for good reason. It’s an impertinent question—beyond impertinent—but I can almost admire my new squire for his bravery. Then again, the boy came to us from a small village a sennight ago, knowing nothing about knighthood, so perhaps he does not realize he is being brave.

“Did yer ma never teach you to shut yer mouth, boy?” scoffs Boyd, one of my guards.

Ignoring the boy’s question, which I have found is the best approach, I say, “Boyd, the smith’s son spotted a riding party on his way back from the village. He thought they might be from the king.”

My squire jumps from his seat. “I met the king once!” he says, as excited as I’ve ever seen him. “I remember it, aye. The King of Meria.”

Boyd and the others snicker.

“You met the king, did you?”

The guardsmen clearly do not believe young Bradyn. To be fair, when he arrived at Breywood on the back of a cloth wagon, he hardly looked like a boy who’d once met a king.

“Do you remember his colors?” I ask him.

Bradyn nods eagerly. “Aye, Lord Stokerton. Red and gold.”

The men still aren’t impressed. Personally, I don’t much care if Bradyn is being truthful or remembering incorrectly. If indeed the king’s men are coming this way, I need to know immediately. A perfect job for an eager young squire.

“Climb up to the watchtower. As soon as you see red and gold banners approaching the gate, run to the training yard as fast as those two legs will carry you to tell me. Aye?”

“Aye, my lord.”

Without waiting, he immediately does as he was bid, scrambling up the circular stone stairs.

“Why would the king’s men come here?” Boyd asks as the others break away and go about their duties.

A good question. One I don’t have an answer to. Our men, led by the first commander, Lord Scott, set out for the king’s court to treat with him. Surely they have arrived by now, but would they have returned so quickly? And if so, why didn’t the smith’s son mention the two parties were traveling together?

“Could they be returnin’ with Scott?”

I move to the slit on the westernmost wall and peer out. Nothing but grass and trees.

“He made no mention of the queen’s banners.”

Boyd grunts. “Is she aware we may have guests?”

“Nay, but I’m off to tell her now. She’s at the yard. Make sure the boy sends word once he sees them.”

This grunt, different from the last, tells me he’s displeased. My choice of squire has raised his ire, which is too damn bad. Does my new squire ask too many questions? Aye. Does he know anything about being a squire? Nay.

But he jumped down from that wagon in the courtyard of Breywood Castle just after we had learned about the raid along the border that had seen his parents slaughtered. I hadn’t thought to saddle myself with a squire again so soon after my last one received his spurs. Indeed, I’d vowed to remain squire-less for the foreseeable future, but I made the mistake of meeting the boy’s eyes.

Besides, turning a homeless and parentless farmer’s son into a knight is not the most difficult task I’ve ever undertaken.

I take my leave and begin walking toward the training yard. Though it would be faster to walk the allure, I need time to think on the implications of this royal visit from our longtime enemies.

After I met with King Galfrid’s commander earlier this month, Cettina agreed to send a contingent to discuss terms with the king rather than mount an immediate counter-attack. Though the queen had the support of the Curia, many outside her inner council thought she was being soft.

They want war against Meria, always.

Especially after learning Galfrid sent two hundred of his best knights against us. That those men sunk to the bottom of the ocean in a shipwreck before arriving at our shores, the king’s only son and heir one of them, matters little to the warmongers among us.

But the more I think on it, the less I believe these men have any connection to Lord Scott. Our banners have not been spotted. Which means these representatives of the king come of their own accord.

“Commander.”

Nodding in greeting to the smith’s apprentice, I hurry forward, anxious to speak with Cettina.

Do you love her?

I’ll need to give Bradyn a talking-to. The rumors about Cettina and me are persistent enough without any help. There is