Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (6 page)

He smiled and dipped his head at Elena. “
Sen d’aren, riyah
. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“
Sen d’aren, royo
,” Elena said quietly. “I’ve not had someone to attend that likes to ride of late.”

“Well, as to that…” He scratched his head, his eyes scanning each stall down the line. “I’m afraid any horse I’d normally offer you needs to have their shoes checked still. I’d not send you out with one of them and risk stranding you. Darius would have me tossed out on my rear for certain.”

Elena gasped at his informal reference to the prince, but it was all Arden could do not to giggle. “I can’t say I know him terribly well yet, but I’m sure His Highness wouldn’t do such a thing to a friend of his. I’d certainly not make a fuss about a thrown shoe, but thank you for the concern Master Veyrun.”

The man had a positively infectious grin, even more so when a corner of his mouth turned up wryly. “Friend or no, he’d be very cross with me for potentially putting you in harm’s way. But, if you please, I prefer Vennic. Needless ceremony wastes time better spent working.”

“Vennic, then. And you may call me Arden so long as it’s not within earshot of my mother.” She nodded, glad to find someone so amiable as a companion to the prince. “May I ask if you’ve discovered the source of the thrown shoes? I might be of some help, if not.”

He shrugged and showed her into the stall where he’d been working, lifting the opposite hoof she’d first seen him with. “It’s almost like they’re cursed, though I can’t see any mage I know wasting time on such a petty trick. The nails and shoes come from the same place they always have, so I wonder if it isn’t the weather causing the problems. All this rain has made the ground rather treacherous.”

She looked a little closer at the shoed hoof, but nothing immediately presented itself. Curious, she picked up the shoe he left on the shelf and hefted it in the palm of her right hand. “Feels the right weight.” She scratched her thumbnail along the metal. “And while it could be a bit stronger, that’s not the problem.”

She returned the horseshoe and picked up one of the nails, examining it closer to the light of the window. “It’s a little long, but not terribly so. I wonder…”

Collecting his hammer and the shoe, Arden left the stall and placed the metal U on the ground. Balancing the nail on the long, flat side, she took a good swing, bringing the hammer down on the length of the small spike. The nail instantly split, the damaged ends shorn off clean where she struck.

“The nails are too brittle,” she said, presenting Vennic with the evidence. “Likely the smith tried to stretch his supplies by using inferior cast iron, which has more slag in it, thus more material to go around. These nails would break fairly easily if a horse was running on frozen or rocky ground, but I imagine the mud of late has been pulling at the weakened metal as well.”

Vennic stared at the broken nail, shaking his head. “I never had such problems with elven smiths. Though it’s curious the nails would be such poor quality with the war over. The greed of men returns now that the battle’s won, I suppose.”

“If all the nails you have are from the same batch, you should send out for new ones and have them tested immediately.” She looked around the stable, wistful. “A shame that’s the cause. It appears I won’t be able to ride for a while then.”

“I could send word when it’s done, if you like,” Vennic said. “I’ll be sure the first horses I shoe are those you could ride.”

“That’s very kind of you, but don’t put yourself out for it. I’ll not be an inconvenience.”

“
An suin, mai dona ra’dethori,
” he said with a flourishing bow.

For those of grace, I give effort willingly.
She laughed. “If you’d ever seen me as a child, grace is something you’d likely not accuse me of having. Though I’m glad you think that of me.”

“It would take a great amount of grace to make my friend smile as you have,” he said, his gaze suddenly earnest. “For that alone I’d happily repay you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such a statement from him. “Prince Darius? Is it so rare that he smiles?”

Vennic grimaced, adding a serious nod. “He’s seen much darkness, and lost more than most. When he speaks of you, it’s like sun breaking through the clouds during a harsh storm. It’s only for a moment, but it gives me hope for better days to come for him.”

She swallowed, flustered to be complimented so highly. “You know him well, then?”

“Better than almost anyone does,” he said.

She bit her lip, hesitant to press the matter, but Elena nudged her with an elbow to encourage the conversation.

“I wonder, then, if you’d have some advice for me. I don’t wish to pry, or break any confidences you two might have, but maybe you can help me gain a little insight on him.”

He lifted an eyebrow and leaned up against a stall. “That depends entirely on what you wish to know.”

Deflating a little, she couldn’t help feeling guilty about getting information that way. “Well, the first time we spoke, I felt like I upset him a great deal, but most of my missteps seemed to be in asking about him. Our last conversation was almost entirely about me and went well enough, but I haven’t a clue how to ask him anything without upsetting him again. Is there any topic that would be, well, safe, I suppose? Any interests he has that don’t strike at some old wound I’m ignorant of?”

Vennic chuckled. “I’m not sure any topic is truly safe where Darius is concerned, to be honest. There are certain lines even I can’t cross, and we two weathered some very difficult times together. But…” He trailed off, thinking it over. “If you’ve any knowledge of weapons, or questions about dwarves, or his favorite ale, those are good places to start.”

While the topic of ale didn’t interest her in the least, she was very confident she could speak about the other two things for a good long while if needed. For the first time in over a day, the excited flutters returned to her stomach, warming her from the inside out. “That’s incredibly helpful. I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. I’ve not seen him in what feels like forever, but I’m much less worried over our next meeting now.”

“Perhaps Master Veyrun should consider adding ‘romantic advisor’ to his list of duties,” Elena said with a giggle.

Vennic laughed. “After the last few days, riyah, I’m seriously considering it.”

Suddenly aware of how long she’d kept the man from his job, she started. “Well, we shouldn’t bother you any longer, I think, not with all the arrangements you need to make on account of those nails.” She bent in a little curtsy. “Thank you again for your help, Vennic.”

“My lady is welcome here any time,” he said, his expression so remarkably amicable, she couldn’t help marveling a little. “And thank you for your assistance with the horses.” He turned to Elena. “A pleasure to see you again,
riyah
. Te’ne mao
.”

“
Ahseen ahmen, royo
,” she flushed and stepped away, already retreating toward the exit.

As Arden turned to follow, he caught her arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You’d do well to avoid mention of the Ansere’th, but you did not hear that from my lips.”

She stood there in shock for a moment after he released her, and he was back at work before she could think of a reply. She wandered out of the stable a little dazed, meeting Elena’s curious expression with what she hoped was a confident smile.

“Anything the matter?” she asked.

She shook her head and herded her back the way they came. “Not at all. Just thinking of new things to say to His Highness if I ever see him again.” To reinforce her façade, she giggled a little. “He can’t avoid me forever, you know.”

Though she kept her demeanor light, she couldn’t entirely shake the shadow of Vennic’s parting advice. Don’t speak of the Ansere’th? She had no idea what the root of that issue was, but was quite sure the secret would eventually find her ears. As someone who hoped to see better relations between races, something like that might have bearing on her goal.

Whatever it was, however, she’d do her best to avoid the subject until she knew a little more.

Chapter 6

Darius

Darius stared up at the ceiling, exhausted as he swirled the wine around the goblet. It felt like he spent every day putting out fires only to have six more spring up in the process. Lunches were taken in his study or with the Council of Chancellors. By the time dinner rolled around, he lost track of time and missed the main meal entirely.

Which meant he hadn’t seen Arden in two days. How much damage would that cause?

The study door thumped closed and Vennic dragged in looking as tired as Darius felt. He helped himself to wine before melting into an armchair near the fireplace.

“Long day?” Darius asked dryly.

Vennic took a deep pull of the drink, casting him a foul look. “And even longer to come. Every single horse needs to be re-shoed, and all because of a few annoying pieces of metal.”

With a groan, he hefted himself to his feet, lounging across the couch opposite Vennic. “If you like, I’ll swap your horseshoes for the overflowing refugee camps in Eramon.”

He chuckled a bit. “Perhaps Arden might be able to find a solution to your problems, too.”

His mouth full of wine, Darius choked, trying not to spit it everywhere. “Did you just say Arden?”

His cat-like grin peeked over the edge of his goblet. “I did.”

“Why am I beginning to wish I hadn’t suggested you meet her?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said with a shrug. “She’s positively delightful and possibly worth her weight in gold. It would’ve taken me ages to realize the nails were to blame for all the thrown shoes. She puzzled it out in a matter of seconds.”

Darius narrowed his eyes at him. “And the whole of your conversation consisted of that?”

“More or less.”

“It’s the less that I’m concerned with.” Sitting up, he leveled his gaze at him. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, Darius. She wanted to go for a short ride, and that was why she came down. I believe the handmaiden with her, Elena, mentioned you and I were on friendly terms.”

His signet ring tapped against his cup as he considered his words. Arden was incredibly likable, but she was also very smart and probably accustomed to getting information through indirect channels as the nobility often did. Were his suspicions unfounded, or did she have ulterior motives for seeking out his closest friend at the castle?

“Relax, Darius,” Vennic said, slinging a leg over the arm of the chair. “All Arden wants is to know the man she’s marrying in a month. I’m a little surprised you’re not as curious about her.”

Darius rubbed his forehead, trying to push back the looming headache. “I can’t say as I’ve had much time to be curious. Even if I had, I’m still not convinced this marriage is the best solution to everyone’s problems.”

Vennic drained his goblet and perched it on his knee. “You were right about her being impossible to dislike, I’ll give you that. One look at her smiling at me over the stall door and I quite literally dropped what I was doing to speak with her.”

“Aside from the nails,” he tipped his goblet at him, “what did you talk about?”

“She was worried about upsetting you,” Vennic said, laughing. “She wanted to know if I could suggest safe conversation topics that wouldn’t trigger your surly silence. Those are my words, by the way. She was much nicer about it.”

“Of course she was.” Darius stood and retrieved the decanter of wine, placing it on the table between them after refilling their cups. “What did you tell her?”

“That there was no such topic.” He chuckled and took another drink.

“It’s really just so fortunate for me that I’ve befriended an elf with the driest sense of humor on the planet. I do so enjoy your wit, Vennic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Give her a chance, Darius. All she wants is your approval and attention, and for that you’re exceedingly lucky. Not all of us can say as much. You may yet mourn for what you’ve lost, but don’t let it diminish the wonders in your path.”

“And what of our conversation the other day? Do you remember what I said?”

Vennic’s smile faded. “I do, and I understand your point, but my advice is unchanged. You’re a good man, heart or no. It isn’t up to you or me to decide what she deserves. If it’s you she wants, what else matters?”

“Pretense can only last so long. Eventually she’ll find out the truth.”

“You worry too much.” He poured himself another glass of wine. “One day at a time, Your Highness.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“I only do it because it annoys you.”

“I know. Perhaps I’ll dismiss you for insubordination.”

Grinning that damnable grin of his, Vennic lifted his cup in a toast. “And leave yourself without a voice of reason? Perish the thought.”

Arden

Unseasonably warm weather drew her into the gardens. A bench in the central gazebo provided the perfect spot to curl up with a book, and Arden soaked up the sunlight pouring in from the western side of the structure. She finally found a tome that sucked her in immediately, filling her mind with thoughts of blades and armor instead of the unyielding worries caused by an absent fiancé. After her conversation with Vennic, she sought out anything that might give her more to talk about with the prince, but it took her a full day to locate something that tied into her own interests.

She was deep into a passage on various methods of tempering steel when a shadow darkened the pages. Startled, she looked up into the face of the one person she never imagined to see.

“Oh, Your Highness.” She dropped her book as she got to her feet. “I wasn’t expecting—”

He bent and retrieved the volume, dusting off the cover before returning it. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Lady Arden. I apologize.”

“No need,” she said. “I simply hadn’t thought to see you with so much going on right now. How are you today?”

Motioning for her to sit, he took a seat beside her as she begged her heart to slow its rapid flutter. “I needed some air, but otherwise well enough. Yourself? Not terribly bored, I hope?”

She tapped the book and smiled. “I found something to occupy me, though I think it would probably put everyone but a blacksmith to sleep.”

“Forged in Fire?” he said, reading the title.

“It details various methods for crafting bladed weaponry, shields, and other types of armor. I’m making comparisons to the smithing methods I’ve worked out and pondering what I might change about them.” She lifted a hand to her mouth and cleared her throat, wondering how terrifically tedious she sounded. “Sorry. Elena’s grown rather tired of listening to me go on about this, and it isn’t as though my mother’s particularly fond of the subject. To be honest, I’ve considered wandering down to the smithy for the sole purpose of having another person around who doesn’t look at me like I’m speaking ancient Danaerian elvish when the term ‘smelting’ comes out of my mouth.”

“My lady speaks ancient Danaerian as well?”

When he grinned, she couldn’t contain her laugh. “No one speaks it, that’s rather the point I was making.”

“I used to craft my own blades years ago, you know.”

It was a fierce battle, but she mostly succeeded in not looking stunned that he made a comment about himself. “Did you? What sort?”

Crossing his arms, he looked up at the ceiling of the gazebo, his memories dancing behind his eyes. “Crude daggers to start with. When I could get my hands on the materials, anyway. I traded services with a blacksmith in Darkrock, over on the western coast. He taught me the basics, I tracked down his non-paying customers and convinced them to settle their debts. Perhaps not the most civil of partnerships, but it was a start.”

Her precarious position in the moment felt a lot like the time she got it in her head to tame some of the rabbits at Aerenhall. If she moved on them too fast, they skittered away as quick as a flash. She needed to tread carefully to keep the discussion with Prince Darius going. “We all do what we need to for survival. I certainly wouldn’t judge you for doing as much in the past, if that concerns you. It’s rather commendable how much you’ve accomplished with nothing to start with.”

As he considered her for a long, silent moment, she refused to let her nerves show. “Commendable? My lady might not think so if she were at all acquainted with the darker parts of my earlier years. I wasn’t always the hero of the stories they tell about me.”

His tone was borderline hostile, which was mildly frustrating. Perhaps she was going about it the wrong way. Her first attempts at conversation with him were light and inconsequential, meek and mild, as she’d do with any typical member of the court. But Prince Darius was not typical in the slightest, so taking a risk might give her an edge her softer side lacked.

Turning slightly, she met his stare with an unfaltering one of her own. “So acquaint me.”

He jerked back a little, seemingly unprepared for that response. “I don’t think—”

“If you’re about to make some silly comment on what you think my delicate sensibilities can or cannot handle, I’d strongly advise you otherwise, Highness.” She squared her shoulders. “Who you were is not who you are now, but it’s certainly not inconsequential. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by whispered secrets, and maintained several of my own. I’ve spent inordinate amounts of time in sweltering, filthy structures for the sole purpose of melting a bit of metal to prove I had far more sense than anyone gave me credit for. And were you aware that I helped tend the sick and wounded Aerenhall took in when people were fleeing for their lives? I spent more nights than I care to remember sharpening blades until they could split hairs dropped upon them so they would be quick to sever infected limbs from bodies already in horrific pain. I’m quite adept at fooling people into thinking I’m a fine, highborn lady, when all I’ve wanted most of my life is to be elbows deep in caustic chemicals to make my next discovery that might help a person or two.”

When she fully realized how stunned he was at her diatribe, she took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt. “I’m terribly sorry. I interrupted you. What were you going to say, Highness?”

Almost afraid to look at him, she watched as his face shifted from disbelief, to what could only be described as respectful amusement. “Am I allowed to speak now?”

She grimaced. “Don’t be flip. I was trying to make a point.”

“And you most certainly did, but I wonder if my takeaway isn’t what you intended.”

She sighed. Perhaps the direct approach wasn’t correct, either, but as she was already far into highly inappropriate territory, there was little sense in dancing around the thing neither of them had spoken of since she arrived at Castle Dulaine. “My point is this: we all wear masks of one kind or another, but…” She swallowed, praying for courage. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if her instincts steered her completely wrong. “I hope that since neither of us are what society would have us be, perhaps at least with each other we can be the people we truly are. You’ve not mentioned it at all, but there’s a wedding that gets closer to us with every passing moment. I’d like to know the hands that will lift the veil from my face that day, regardless of what they’ve done in the past.” She uncurled the fists formed in her lap, revealing her open palms. When she spoke again, her voice felt very small in her throat, struggling to find words. What started as a fierce charge turned to doubt as the situation caught up to her. If he refused her, what would become of her then? “I’d not hide myself from you, and all I’ll ever ask of you is the same in return. Perhaps my secrets aren’t so horrific or violent, but they are precious, and I don’t give them to just anyone.”

The silence stretched out before her. All she could do was stare at her empty hands and wonder if she ruined in moments what her parents had worked for her entire life. It was true she didn’t put her full trust in many people, and only Paitra knew all the parts of her she laid before a man she’d known only a few days, but something in his eyes from the moment she met him made her feel like he might be the only other person to completely understand what she offered. No one else of any house in the entirety of Valentia could put her at ease the way his simple presence did. It was illogical, irrational, and she’d possibly thrown away any chance she had with him in the matter of a few sentences.

Soft, hesitant fingers slipped into hers, and she stopped breathing.

“I thought perhaps I was the only one here who was struggling with all of this, but I think that was very self-centered of me.”

She closed her eyes, holding on to the thinnest measure of hope.

“It isn’t easy for you either, is it? This life-changing event everyone explains away as if it were a business transaction. They talk of peace and stability and treaties without any thought given to the people whose lives are irrevocably changed in the process. I’ve spent almost all my life fighting for every single thing I’ve ever had, wanting nothing more than to survive, but…” He paused, but she wouldn’t have interrupted him if her life depended on it. “But I don’t think I know what to do with myself without something to rail against. I took the throne to save the Valentian people from a civil war, but it isn’t a thing I ever wanted. I don’t have the temperament or the training for this role. I need someone beside me that can read others, know how to speak to them to keep the peace we’ve sacrificed for.”

His grip tightened on her hand, a reassuring hold that made her heart swell and nearly reduced her to tears.

“In a matter of days, you’ve gotten me to confess more in the last few minutes than I have to almost anyone in months. If you can do that much for me, dear lady, I can only imagine what you’ll do for this kingdom as its queen.”

She sucked in a sudden, sharp breath, her eyes finding his hazel ones, searching them for any sign that he spoke other than the truth, but his smile was warm and kind, not placating in any way.

Her words airy, she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “No matter what you tell me, what you’ve done before this moment, I will trust you with whatever’s mine. That’s my gift to you, Highness.”

The bell in the high tower tolled three o’clock, and she wondered where the day had gone. How long had they sat there without any sign of a chaperone? Her mother would be horrified, but, stars above, when his smile grew and he pulled her to her feet, she giggled as though she were seven years old again.