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.
“If my lady has care for it, would you join me and Duke Ingram for tea?” Prince Darius offered his arm.
Book in one hand, she happily accepted the invitation. After all, her mother couldn’t complain about her absence if her company was of such high caliber.
Chapter 7
Darius
“Have you surveyed the damage of the re-taken lands from the war yet?” Arden asked before taking another sip of tea. “Or are they not safe for such things?”
“Our forces are still clearing out the remnants of the haegaroi, but they’ve secured as far south as Toralden on the coast.” He shouldn’t have been surprised she was taking such an interest in Valentian problems, but her ability to grasp it all astounded him. “Two main swaths of unsecured land remain to either side of that: one extending from the Bremian Lowlands to the southeastern coast, the other from the mountains south of Eramon to the cliffs at Fadenhold.”
“So you’ve split the forces then?”
Ingram nodded. “Yes, which is why it’s such slow going. Fighting on two fronts weakens us from both sides.”
“And the Imperium withdrew their troops after Orinda Valley?”
“Not until after the succession was decided,” Darius grumbled, recalling the messy affair that almost cost him his head. “After Valentian nobility managed to pull itself together to unite behind a single candidate, they backed down immediately.”
Arden set her cup aside and wandered behind the desk to the map hanging on the wall, studying the areas the Torn Ones still occupied. Darius watched her face from the side, almost seeing the gears in her head spinning and whirling with thoughts. She rested a finger against a large section that included the cliffs of Fadenhold, squinting at the spot as though tiny print were written there. Her finger slowly slid down the map, from the land into the sea to the south, stopping at the Ailucian Island chain.
“I wonder…” She removed her hand and crossed her arms as she backed away. “The Prasta used to hold those cliffs until the Canda War ousted them. They’re fierce warriors, by all accounts, and I believe they still claim those lands as their own. Have you considered approaching them with an offer of repatriation in exchange for helping the fight between the cliffs and Eramon?”
“A deal with the Prasta barbarians?” Ingram scoffed. “Not likely. They only got involved at Orinda Valley because their islands were next in the crosshairs.”
Darius leaned back and considered it. The Prasta had been banished from settling in Valentia for a hundred years already, but the lands taken from them had never appealed to any of the population. “It’s not actually a terrible idea, Ingram. Old Prasta lands don’t have any established settlements, and their banishment was primarily based on fear-mongering and misunderstanding. Their culture might be very different from ours, but they could be valuable allies if the Imperium gets it in their heads we’re too weak to resist a full-scale invasion.”
Arden did her best to hide it, but she looked incredibly pleased he expressed agreement with her. She cast him a small glance as she retreated back to her seat. “I don’t know a lot about them,” she admitted as she resumed drinking her tea. “It’s difficult to find academic studies on people so opposed to outsiders.”
“I had some dealings with them during the war,” Darius said. “I was part of the group that parlayed with them for battles. I have a deep respect for their culture, though it doesn’t suit me personally. They’re very strict in their castes and laws, and it doesn’t a
llow for much personal freedom, but their discipline on the battlefield is unparalleled. They’re not much for humor, either.”
“Which is likely why you got on so well with them.” Ingram chuckled before tossing a wink at Arden, who answered with a small laugh.
He ignored the comment. Arden’s suggestion took root in his mind, the potential for such a historical accord more appealing with every second. “Since I did develop a rapport with the Prasta’s Vaotin, there’s a chance he’d hear an offer from me, Ingram. It could be highly beneficial to all parties.”
Ingram’s brow furrowed. “Neighboring lands won’t care for that, Darius. There’s too much mystery and fear surrounding the Prasta. Rumors about child sacrifices to demonic gods are the least of the tales people—”
“You know as well as I do those rumors are untrue. Prasta celebratory chants aren’t overly pleasing to the ear, so I understand the confusion, but that isn’t at all what they do. Certainly they raise their children differently than we do, but they don’t raise them for slaughter.”
“Their chanting sounds like children being murdered?” Arden said, staring with curiosity-filled eyes.
“You’re aware of their horns, yes?”
She nodded, raptly attentive.
“Their horns grow from in front of their ears, circling around the base of the skull and protruding from the back of their heads. They’re hollow bones that join with the resonant chambers in their sinus cavities, so when they sing, the sound travels out and through there if their mouths are closed. The air spirals around the grooves inside the horns and produces a noise not unlike screams of women and children. Honestly, it was quite horrible to hear at first, but once you understand the context, and the internal force required to produce that sound, you come to appreciate it in an odd sort of way.”
“Fascinating,” she murmured. “I’d dearly like to see that for myself. Perhaps after the…” A blush crept up her neck and she looked away. “If they were repatriated, I suppose it would be more likely that I’d get to see them firsthand.”
“Summon Madame LeVallier to see me as soon as she’s able,” he said to Ingram. “If anyone can arrange such a meeting, it would be her.”
“May I go on record first as disagreeing with this course of action?”
He shrugged. “Certainly you may, but I’ve made up my mind to pursue it. We need all the help we can get to restore those lands, and the Prasta are the finest mercenaries in the world. It won’t hurt anything to ask for their services in trade for return of their homeland.” For the first time in months he felt like he found some direction in the chaos of the reconstruction process. Even more, he knew how correct he’d been in telling Arden how valuable she’d be to the kingdom. He caught himself grinning over it, and immediately faltered. Would ruling well be enough to satisfy her in life, or would she fall asleep every night wondering what more she could have had?
Three short, loud raps on the door preceded the immediate entrance of the Duchess Tanarien, her expression a mask of displeasure, and Arden’s handmaiden, Elena, in tow.
“I’m so sorry if my daughter’s inconvenienced you this afternoon, Your Highness.” She curtsied, but didn’t pause to let him speak. “The damp has made me very tired of late, and I didn’t keep her occupied as I should. If you’ll forgive my lapse, I’ll collect her and see she doesn’t intrude further on your business.”
Darius frowned, irritated she thought Arden such a burden. “It was hardly an intrusion if she was an invited guest, Your Grace. If anyone is guilty of disruption, it would be me for taking her from her reading in the garden.”
Tight-lipped and patient, Arden set aside her teacup and rose from her chair. “A welcome disruption, Your Highness.” Her curtsy was brief, but a show for her mother rather than his benefit. “Thank you so very much for the tea this afternoon.”
“Your insight is greatly appreciated,” Darius said in elvish, hoping to rattle the duchess with their shared secret. “I’ll not forget your words today, asahana.”
She bit back a smile and nodded. “And a good afternoon to you as well, Duke Ingram. Thank you for the company.”
“Of course, my lady.”
With that, the highly ruffled Duchess Tanarien herded her daughter out, the door closing rather loudly behind them.
Ingram chuckled. “Well, I believe you won much ground with the lady today, but perhaps lost a bit with her mother.”
Darius took his seat behind the desk once more, still irritated by the duchess’s dismissal of Arden’s abilities. “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not marrying the duchess then, isn’t it?”
Arden
By the time Arden’s mother finished lecturing her on exactly how shameful and inappropriate it was to spend so much time with Prince Darius without her watchful eye present, it was nearly dinner. It was a huge relief when she finally left to freshen up for the meal, but Elena took up where she left off.
“I’m so sorry I told on you, my lady, but I didn’t have a choice,” she said as she fussed with Arden’s hair. “I wasn’t gone from you that long, but by the time I came back, I saw you were already on your way with Prince Darius, and then what could I do? I followed to see where you went, but she caught me waiting in the hall outside the study and demanded to know where you were. She’s a scary woman, your mother.”
“It’s all right, Elena.” She shooed her away from her hair. “I don’t blame you at all. I know how she gets, I just hope she lets up once I’m married. Can you imagine?”
“Why is she so bothered if you’re alone with him? I mean, not that you were alone alone, as Duke Ingram was there, but why so much fuss over it?”
She studied her face in the mirror, admiring the healthy glow in her cheeks that hadn’t been there that morning. “I know the elvish aren’t so concerned with…” She faltered, looking for an appropriate word. “With keeping men and women separated until marriage, but my mother is very strict about it. I’ve not so much as been kissed, and she intends to keep it that way until my wedding day.”
Elena frowned a little, confused. “I know that’s your custom, but I’ve never had occasion to ask a human before. What’s so special about fumbling around with parts not knowing what you’re doing with the person you’re stuck with for life? I’d think you’d want to get a bit of practice in at least, to please the one you’ve chosen for forever. Does that make sense? Like a dance. If you begin on the wrong foot, you’re stepping on your partner’s toes for the whole song. A marriage is much more important than a single dance, don’t you think?”
“What I think hardly matters to my mother,” she said with a sigh, “but I’m not going into it blind, Elena. I’ve spoken with Paitra about it on many occasions. I’m fairly sure I know which parts go where. It’s a bit late for me to be practicing such things, anyway. I don’t think I’d want to be with anyone else now that I’ve met him and gotten to know him some.”
“I suppose that’s true enough.” She pulled up a stool and leaned in with a conspiratorial look on her face. “What did happen today? In the garden, I mean. Did Vennic’s advice help?”
Arden smiled at the memory of how Darius’s hand felt in hers. “Some, yes. But it wasn’t until I lectured him that I got very far. He’s not at all what I thought he’d be, Elena.”
“He called you asahana earlier.” She set a hand on her knee, grinning. “That’s a very good sign that whatever you did, worked.”
“I’m not certain of that word. What does it mean?”
Elena wrinkled her nose. “It’s an Ansere’th term of endearment. It loosely means ‘precious light,’ but it’s more than that. It’s the type of light stars have at night, the ones that guide your way home when you’re lost. Whatever transpired between you two today, it was very important to him for sure.”
Once she knew the term, she was sure she’d turn crimson if he called her that again
. Precious light? What had she done to merit such a moniker? “I wish I knew what it was, so I could do it again.” She giggled. “He does underrate himself when it comes to dealing with people, I think. His direct manner might be off-putting to some, but he makes his point quite well. I wasn’t sure before, but I think he intends to let me have actual say in how the kingdom is managed. Can you imagine it? I’ve never been asked for my opinions on managing anything before, but he was very receptive to my ideas today. It gives me hope for accomplishing a few things with whatever power I’m given.”
“Like what?” she asked, genuinely interested.
She bobbed her head back and forth, considering it. “Well, I’ve never cared much for the limitations other races face when dealing with humans. With dwarves and elves and potentially Prasta all living in the same land, it would make sense that all have an equal say on larger issues we face, yet there’s no forum for non-human voices to be heard. I’d like to see that change, if I could, though I know that’s quite a lot to hope for. There was a very brief time in history when that was the way things were, but it was so long ago, only those who’ve read some very obscure histories would know about it.”
“It isn’t only humans that harbor prejudices, you know,” Elena said. “Even elves have unsavory words for other races, and dwarves cut themselves off from the rest of the world as much as they can. The only reason they try to keep up a façade is because they like the money trade brings in. Cooperation based on greed is deplorable.”
Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) Page 7