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?”
When none of them replied, too busy gaping to form coherent sentences, she frowned and flicked the handkerchief again. “You’ll want to clean that, unless you’ve a mind to add another scar to your collection.”
“Clean what?” Darius said, shocked she was speaking to him at all.
She closed the distance between them and dabbed at his cheek, as gentle as a breeze. “You should be more careful. Duke Ingram would be upset if you showed up to your coronation without a head to put a crown on.”
When he reached up to stop her ministrations, she put the handkerchief into his palm and smiled, not missing a beat as she turned back to Ehlren. “I know tea might not be your preference, but I could send for wine as well, if you like. I’ve not had much experience with dwarves, to be honest, and I’d greatly enjoy speaking with you about your people if you’d indulge me.”
Ehlren cleared his throat with a blustery cough. “Yes, well, I’m not sure I’m the best dwarf for the job. I can be a bit—”
“While I’m sure you mean well, I’ve no qualms with coarse language or less than perfect manners, General. Honest candor is far preferable to dishonest niceties. If it worries you too much, perhaps Duke Ingram would join us.” She paused and turned back towards Darius, Vennic watching on. “Of course His Highness is welcome to join us, as are you Ven—, that is, Master Veyrun. I’d not separate friends who see so little of one another.”
Vennic grinned the way he always did when he saw an opportunity to rattle his friend. “That sounds lovely, my lady. Could we freshen up a bit first?”
Stars, Arden’s grin was as damnably mischievous as Vennic’s.
“Does two o’clock give you enough time to see His Highness patched up properly?”
Vennic chuckled. “I believe an hour is plenty of time, yes.”
“Wonderful,” she said, quite pleased with herself. “Then I’ll see you all in His Highness’s study at two.”
Darius opened his mouth to argue, but she turned away faster than he could speak, Vennic and Ehlren bowing at her exit.
When she was gone, a sudden slap to his back jolted him forward. “It would seem the Lady Arden refuses to give up so easily, kendala,” Vennic said, laughing.
“Oh, yes, it’s very funny.” He dabbed at the blood on his face, noting the faint hint of lavender on the handkerchief. “Do you think you might be able to contain yourself long enough to consider how horribly awkward this is for me?”
Ehlren sheathed his sword, as amused as Vennic. “I think he knows exactly how awkward it is. That’s what makes it funny. But what’s all this about dwarves? I don’t see what I’ve got to do with any of this sticky business.”
Darius sighed and propped an arm on his shoulder. “You’ve struck her fancy, friend. Giving her a shiny metal object was probably your first mistake, but the lady in question has a rather insatiable curiosity. You’ll likely be staying another night now that she’s got hold of you.”
He squirmed a little, but didn’t make nearly the fuss Darius expected. “So long as there’s wine to be had, I shouldn’t suffer too much, I think.”
Chapter 11
Arden
In stumbling across the fighting on the castle grounds, which turned out to be training, much to Paitra’s surprise, Arden decided to approach her fiancé predicament with a new tactic.
She spent almost two weeks trying to figure out what Darius wanted her to be. When she caught his eye, and he caught a sword to the face, she realized the person he wanted was not a person she could be. Naya already existed, and she could never be her, so it was stupid to consider trying. She could never be more than when she was herself, so that was what she resolved to be. There was nothing more “her” than creating situations that were seen as imprudent, but often served her well.
She had a plan. Even if it didn’t result in gaining a man who loved her, perhaps the kingdom would instead.
She explained to Duke Ingram what she arranged for the afternoon, and asked if he might join her so her mother wouldn’t worry as much. She had a meeting concerning Aerenhall matters anyway, so Arden doubted she’d even hear of her impromptu tea party until it was done. The duke was very receptive to her idea, and thought her proactivity towards her own cultural education was commendable.
The most difficult part of the whole situation would be in keeping herself focused on the discussion about dwarves, rather than her personal issues with Darius. She couldn’t allow herself to wallow, and she wouldn’t become one of those doting admirers who fawned all over the object of her affection any time he sneezed. If she was going to be a queen, she needed to act like one.
Even though she commandeered Prince Darius’s study for the occasion, she set about arranging everything with Paitra and Elena as though it was her own space being used. She had tea and wine both readily available, as well as platters of cold meats, cheese, and bread. In particular, she asked for a good amount of the red fruit tarts she had upon her arrival at Castle Dulaine. Chocolate was lovely, but those tarts were truly divine.
Shortly before two, the study door opened and Prince Darius entered, his retinue of friends in tow. He stopped three paces inside the door, however, staring stupidly at the spread she arranged.
Honestly, did he think she’d leave it to him? Men really could be very simple sometimes.
“I see you’ve been busy, Lady Arden,” Duke Ingram said as he stepped around the prince.
She curtsied a little. “Well, I thought since it was my idea, I wouldn’t make the rest of you work for it. Now, who wants what for refreshments?”
She passed out tea cups and wine goblets, filling them to preference, while Paitra and Elena helped assemble plates of the food. She hoped Darius didn’t mind that she rearranged the furniture a bit to allow them all to sit around the large table by the fireplace. When everyone was seated and their cups full, Paitra and Elena retreated to different corners of the room. Paitra sitting directly in Arden’s line of sight, she caught her eye as her gaze drifted over the top of her book. Arden saw through the ruse immediately, but was content to let her play at disinterest. Perhaps she’d have insight on the others to share later.
“I must admit, General, I was as much intrigued by your presence last night as I was by the gift you presented. Is it terrible of me to corner you this way? What little interaction the dwarves have had with Aerenhall was always very brief, and I was never allowed to be present for any talks. Given what’s coming for me, it seemed the smart thing to have at least some experience with the different people that live in Valentia. I might not be everyone’s ideal person, but I refuse to step back without giving it my best effort.”
She sipped her tea,
hoping her comment hit its intended mark. Though she thought perhaps only Darius would catch it, Vennic immediately hid his face behind his tea cup, and Ehlren’s eyebrows shot up his forehead in a far less subtle reaction. She carried on as though nothing of consequence happened, however, content to let the gauntlet sit where she’d thrown it.
“What sort of questions did you have, Lady Arden?” Ehlren said after coughing and shifting in his seat across from her.
She took another sip of tea as she thought. Where did one start with learning about the entirety of a culture? “Perhaps I’ll begin with what I know. All dwarves live in underground colonies, correct?”
“Most, yes.”
“But not all?”
He shrugged. “There are a few that venture out, but they’re typically those without skills or titles, or the disgraced. Being forced to live outside our mountains is a more severe punishment than execution to a dwarf.”
“Where do they go?”
“Some take up trading between humans and dwarves, but more often than not they don’t survive long. Dwarves depend on one another, typically only mastering one skill and relying on others for the rest. If one fails, so do we all. That’s how we’ve survived so long underground.”
“That’s a very admirable way to live,” she said. “I believe the Prasta hold to a similar value, don’t they, Your Highness?”
Darius jerked, stirred from his trance. “Similar… ah, sort of. Dwarves are free to choose their paths within certain constraints, but the Prasta are given roles at birth. If you deny your role, it’s a denial of life, and the Prasta have no tolerance for it. For dwarves it may mean banishment, but for the Prasta, it means certain death.”
Arden shivered. “Well, I’m certainly not one to question their way of life, but I can’t say I like that idea much.” Turning back to Ehlren, she continued her questioning. “Is it a matter of survival skills, then? Is that why dwarves don’t live outside of the mountains?”
He wobbled his hand from side to side. “Yes and no. Dwarven skin is unaccustomed to sunlight, and most often we succumb to kaffa, light poisoning. It takes time for us to adjust to the outside world.”
Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) Page 10