Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (10 page)

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing all too well the pressures that came with a title. “They’d never accept an elf as a queen. I understand.”

“A week after the decision of succession was reached, that was it. Neither of us was happy about it, but we agreed it was better to end it. She left, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

Arden pinched her eyes shut, trying to keep her head from spinning. “But you still love her.”

Returning to the bench, he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “And so it’s now your choice, asahana. I won’t force you to marry a man whose heart lies elsewhere. If you wish it, I’ll find a way to call this off that spares you and your family any shame. You deserve far better than what I’m capable of giving you.”

A million thoughts whirled in her head. She considered her parents, and how long they’d been together. There was never any great passion between them, but it was a happy marriage, filled with loyalty and the comfort of being with a person who knew the other better than anyone could. They were partners in all things, but did they love in the sense Darius spoke of it? She doubted it, but neither would change their fates if given the chance.

“You’ve not said anything yet.” His face was etched with lines of concern, the scars on his cheek darker in the moonlight than she noticed during the day. The man undoubtedly cared for her, and she could see how much it pained him to tell her his truth. How many other men would be so honest in his position? And then there was all she might do as queen to a king who actually listened to her opinions…

“It’s… quite a lot to think about, Your Highness.”

“And there isn’t much time for you to consider my offer,” he said, gently squeezing her fingers. “And for that I’m also sorry.”

“There’s little for me to consider, honestly.” She freed a hand and touched his face, the stubble on his jaw prickly against her skin. “I thank you for telling me, but there’s no need to change what’s already been planned.”

“You’d marry a man that’s outright told you he loves another?” He stared in disbelief. “Why?”

She pulled away from him and stood, smiling as best she could. “There are different types of love in the world,
kendala
.” It seemed so fitting to call him such. “Wounded one” spoke to the deepest places she saw in his eyes. “Mountains are founded on cracks in the earth, and stand for millennia. Boats are built in a manner of days and easily sunk. Love can be a mountain untouched by time, or a boat on a sea of storms. I know which I’d ask for if given a choice. I’d rather outlast the shifting soil than be a fast boat waiting to be scuttled. I think you can find either if you’re open to them.”

She turned away, heading back towards the castle. He didn’t follow, but she was glad for it.

If she looked at him even once more, she was sure her tears would’ve drowned her.

Chapter 10

Darius

His head pounded, helped little by the knocking on the door of his study.

“Come in already,” Darius barked.

“Pardon, Your Highness.” A page stuck his head inside. “But there’s a General Ehlren to see you? He’s very insistent.”

“Let me through already.” The dwarf shuttled aside the boy and barged in without further argument, making sure to slam the door behind him. Darius cringed at the sudden noise. “Ha! Can’t hold your wine anymore, eh?” He laughed as he plopped down in a chair across the desk, his armor from the day before replaced by leather and linen.

“It was a trying night,” Darius grumbled as he reached for his water glass.

“Parties with politicians always are.” Ehlren chuckled. “Where’s Old Horsefeathers? Didn’t you say he’d be joining us?”

Before Darius could answer, the elf in question rapped once on the door before entering, not waiting for permission to do so. Vennic’s smile was much broader than Darius thought it would be to see Ehlren again, given their often tense relationship.

“Who let the child in?”

Ehlren stood, chest puffed out. “The same person that let a dung-rolled fairy in, I imagine.”

The two laughed before sharing a hearty embrace, which Darius likely would’ve been much happier about were it not for his headache, then took their seats once the pleasantries were out of the way.

“Careful for His Royal Highness’s delicate sensibilities this morning, Vennic,” Ehlren said with a wink. “His constitution’s none improved with this soft palace lifestyle.”

Rather than laugh at Darius’s misfortune, Vennic’s expression turned to concern. “Drinking heavily last night? Surely it wasn’t such a terrible party. I thought you were growing accustomed to them?”

Forgoing his water, Darius left his seat and poured a large amount of wine instead. “It turns out that honesty can drive a man to drink.”

Vennic groaned into his hand. “Oh, tell me you didn’t. At your engagement party? Do you have some unfounded hatred for the poor girl?”

He downed the wine, hoping it would chase away the worst of the consequences a night of drinking led to. “She had to know, Vennic, while there’s still time for her to avoid it.”

“What the devil are you two on about?” Ehlren asked. “Who had to know what? Who do you hate?”

“He told Arden about Naya.” Vennic’s tone held a disapproval Darius hadn’t heard since he told him he went after a dozen haegaroi on his own and nearly got himself killed.

Ehlren shot to his feet. “You did what, you brainless bintbug?”

“Stop yelling.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve never claimed to be the smartest of people. It didn’t make a difference, anyway. She said she wants to go forward as planned.”

“Of course she does,” Vennic said, disgusted. “She’s rational and understands her position in society, and is also a much nicer person than you, so it would seem. Honestly, why would you do such a thing, at a party of all places? Were you trying to make her cry in front of the other nobility?”

Darius lifted his glass in cheers, as they hadn’t said anything worse than he thought of himself yet. “And hence my horrendous hangover this morning. I didn’t see that I’d have another shot at it before it was too late, and so…” He drained the goblet. “Further proof that making me king was likely a very poor decision on Ingram’s part.”

“Gods alive, did you tell him the news yet?” Ehlren flopped back down into his chair. “I imagine not, as you haven’t been strangled where you stand.”

He retreated back to his chair with a refilled glass. “Astute observation. No, I have not. Probably best to keep it from him, as I don’t think he’d appreciate my attempts to free the Lady Arden from a miserable marriage.”

“What did she say about it, exactly?” Vennic leveled an icy stare at him, and he shivered.

“After sweetly calling me ‘kendala,’ she made a beautiful metaphor with mountains and boats that made me hate myself even more fervently.”

“She gave you an elvish pet name?” Ehlren shook his head. “What’s that one mean?”

He sighed. “Wounded one.”

Vennic crossed his arms, still glaring at me. “You’re a fool if ever there was one, Darius.”

He raised his cup in cheers once more. “And again we agree.”

Ehlren snorted. “You insult the girl by telling her you’re in love with someone else and don’t want to marry her, and she returns the favor with an endearing nickname? What do you intend as an encore, bintbug? Bring another woman to your marriage bed and make her watch?”

“That’s quite enough,” Darius growled at him. “I’m not purposely trying to hurt her, I just seem to muck it up at every possible opportunity.”

“That would be an understatement,” Vennic mumbled, then let out a huff of frustration. “So how do you intend to fix it?”

“Fix it?” That actually made him laugh. “As I’ve done such a phenomenal job of that up until now, it’s likely smarter I stop trying to do what
I
think is right and do what I should probably spend the rest of my life doing.”

“And what’s that?” Ehlren crossed his arms, looking at him as if he
were
actually a bintbug.

He shrugged at them. “Listen to Arden.”

Vennic’s expression softened at last. “That’s the first smart thing you’ve said all morning.”

Arden

Arden somehow managed to get through the remainder of the party with a smile, and avoided questions from Paitra and Elena by claiming exhaustion. It wasn’t exactly a lie, as she felt like the majority of her insides had been drained away in the course of a few hours. The hollow sensation was overwhelming.

When she’d been told her eventual husband was in love with someone else, and would likely never hold her in as high regard, how else could she feel but exhausted knowing the rest of her life she would always be second best?

Queen, yet still incomparable to a woman she’d never met.

She laid in bed the following morning, pretending to still be asleep as she thought about her situation. Honestly, was it really all that terrible? Darius wasn’t cruel or violent as far as she could tell. He valued her thoughts and opinions. He was concerned with her happiness and respected her enough to tell her the truth. He’d be a king who would likely share ruling responsibilities with her and heed her council in important matters. Could so many women say as much? Perhaps love was more than she should’ve hoped for. She needed to be happy and grateful for what she’d been granted. There were more ways to have a fulfilling life than one based on a passionate romance.

And so, she kept it to herself. She got up and out of bed thinking of all the things she wanted to work toward. She finally had a connection to dwarves, on top of ones she already had with elves, and, if things went well, the Prasta might become allies also. In small steps, she could help bring about a fellowship the likes of which hadn’t been seen in millennia.

It was enough to bring the smile back to her face.

“So, tell me all about the party,” Paitra said as she combed out Arden’s hair.

“It was lovely,” she replied. “You should see what I was given by the dwarves. It’s the most remarkable gift I’ve ever received. Have you heard of Gordian weapons before?”

“Gordian? Wait, you were given a weapon as a gift?”

Excited to tell the tale, she turned in her seat to relate what she knew. “There was a master smith amongst the dwarves, many centuries ago in the Dhagba Mountain. Tyvus Gordia created swords, daggers, axes— cutting weapons— that could poison Torn Ones with a single small slice. Something in their properties reacted with their blood, like it boiled away the darkness. Gordia became an instant hero amongst all races plagued by the monsters, and crafted an entire cache of his blades to outfit a small army. But when the Danahoi tore in the Fifth Age, it caused a massive earthquake that collapsed the entirety of the Dhagba colony, taking Tyvus Gordia and almost all of his creations with it.”

Paitra raised an eyebrow. “Almost all?”

“A handful survived the destruction, and are priceless not only historically, but in that they’re so effective in killing Torn Ones.”

“And this is important because…”

Jumping up, she hurried over to her wardrobe where she’d tucked the beautiful box away. She returned to her vanity and pushed back the lid to reveal the precious prize. With utmost reverence, she lifted the wavy blade from its satin bed, fingers gently displaying it from underneath. “The Yar of Ogtern Mountain gifted me with a Gordian dagger used at the battle of Orinda Valley last night. Can you believe it? I think I caused quite an uproar in how I thanked the dwarf presenting it, but truly, it’s the most remarkable and precious gift I’ve ever received.”

She studied the dagger while Paitra looked on, curious, but not touching. Even the leather wrapped around the pommel was intact, though stained with what was certainly blood from Torn Ones fallen victim to its blade. “I’m loathe to suggest it, but I’d love to run tests on the metal, perhaps try to replicate the process for making these. Can you imagine what a boon that would be? But I’d likely end up destroying what’s already exceptionally rare. The chemicals I’d use would react with the dagger, and while I could learn the composition that way, the sample would forever be lost.”

Paitra laughed. “Presented with an invaluable gift and the first thing you wonder about is how to destroy it. Why not simply ask about pieces of a broken one? I’m sure your husband-to-be would be more than happy to inquire about it for you.”

Arden instantly slammed closed the door on her emotions, hoping she hadn’t let any reaction to the mention of Darius slip out and give away her heartache. Instead, she turned her attention to replacing the dagger and its beautifully jeweled box back in her wardrobe. “Perhaps eventually, but there’s too much going on at the moment to bother anyone with that request. I’ll keep it in mind for when I’m asked for ideas for birthday gifts, though.”

“I did hear some whispers about the party this morning,” Paitra said when she returned to let her finish with her hair. “I suppose you’re the cause for the mentions of dwarves going around.”

She chuckled at the memory. “Likely. I was a bit overwhelmed by the general’s gift last night, and I sent him away with a kiss as a thank you. If we weren’t under such public scrutiny at the time, I’m sure my mother would’ve lectured me for hours over it.”

“You kissed him?” She nearly dropped the brush.

Arden waved it off. “Just a peck on the cheek. Don’t fuss over it. It seems he’s an old friend of the prince’s from the war. I was hoping to see him again today if I could. Want to help me track him down later?”

“You’re just set on getting into as much trouble as possible, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be melodramatic. If you and Elena are both with me, that’s plenty of supervision. My mother would have no room to complain then.”

“Have I mentioned that I greatly dislike being used as a front for your subversive activities?”

“Oh, only once or twice over the last decade, but as you’re still with me, you can’t hate it too much. Would you rather I was some stuffy, stuck-up lady with no interests outside of draperies and dresses?”

“Not for a moment.”

Arden grinned at her in mirror. “Then you should hurry up with whatever unnecessary business you’re doing with my hair back there. As soon as Elena returns with breakfast and we’ve eaten, I’ve a mind to get to work.”

Darius

Darius wiped the sweat from his brow, relishing the burn in his muscles. It had been months since he had any sort of challenge in a sparring match, as the guards at the castle refused to fight for either fear of hurting him, or getting hurt themselves.

Ehlren had no such qualms, fortunately.

“You’ve gotten slow, Prince Dustypuff,” Ehlren chuckled as he hefted his sword once more. “Has your cushy throne made you soft?”

Darius grinned and leapt forward with a mighty strike, and their battle resumed. The spins and jumps of fighting were far preferable to dancing, and a damp shirt was hardly considered a social faux pas when you had a weapon in hand, rather than a woman. The clang of steel rang through the training grounds, broken only by Vennic’s occasional shouts of admonishment for careless mistakes. Normally such corrections would prompt him to hurl a knife at the person spouting them, but Darius learned long ago his friend’s elven eyes were far keener than a human’s, able to spot the slightest weakness in an enemy from a hundred yards away. Vennic’s talent was more with a bow at a distance, however, so while he made for an excellent coach, his close combat skills were no match for Darius.

After thirty minutes of hacking and slashing at one another, he thought he finally had the upper hand. Ehlren was slowing, his attacks less brutal, and if Darius could time it just right…

A familiar laugh and movement in his peripheral vision distracted him. From the wooded path leading around the castle, Lady Arden and her two handmaidens emerged, happily chatting away. Her sudden presence pulled his focus, even more so when she stopped to stare at the fight unfolding before her. She’d been smiling just then. Was she honestly all right with their situation? He expected—

A loud roar from Ehlren accompanied the whistle of a blade as it sliced through the air towards his head. Darius reared back and away, but not fast enough, the tip of Ehlren’s sword leaving a small gash on the left side of his face.

“What in the bowels of bleeding badgaroks?” Ehlren shouted as he lowered his weapon. “Where’s your head at, man? I could’ve shredded your face clean off your skull if you hadn’t—”

Before he could get any further inappropriate comments out, Vennic cleared his throat. “Why, Lady Arden. To what do we owe the honor?”

As Ehlren whirled around to see, Darius continued studying his fiancée, her reaction utterly placid despite having stumbled into their sparring session. She shifted into a smile and approached, her handmaidens two nervous steps behind her. She stopped in front of Ehlren.

“I was actually hoping to run into you again before you left, General.” She curtsied and took a handkerchief from her sleeve, waiving it in Darius’s general direction. “When you’re finished poking holes in the crown prince, would you consider joining me for tea?”