“But you have, it would seem.”
“Out of necessity, yes. It makes me particularly helpful as an emissary, which is a down side if you ask me. Too much pomp and posturing for my tastes.”
“How long did it take you to acclimate?”
He scrunched up his face and looked to the prince. “What would you say, two months or so?”
“Seems about right,” Darius said. “Though even then, after six hours in daylight, you would still vomit your brains out. Half a year and it didn’t bother you anymore.”
Blinking, she stared at him. “You were there for his… adaptation?”
Ehlren snorted. “There? If not for Darius, I’d have shriveled up like a skullwart in screesalt my first day out. He found me wandering the woods outside Brazrhen. He thought I might be useful, so he got me through it.”
She stared at Darius, surprised by the story. “You did that for a stranger?”
Vennic chuckled quietly.
“I’m not so inhumane that I’d leave a man to die like that,” Darius grumbled as he crossed his arms.
“Wasn’t that around the time you were hired to infiltrate the Brazrhen yar’s private vault to steal the Serpent’s Crown?” Vennic said.
Darius glared at him. “Perhaps I saw an opportunity with Ehlren, but that wasn’t my sole purpose for saving him.”
“Ah, right. I forgot you ended up passing that job to Horai. Wasn’t he torn apart by swarming krazaki beetles as a result?”
“Hardly my fault. I warned him about that pit. Horai was a backstabbing gribthari anyway. He tried to have me killed four times in five years, you remember.”
Arden watched them bicker back and forth like a couple married for twenty years. After several minutes, she couldn’t contain it any longer and succumbed to quiet laughter as they went on to level accusations of idiocy over at least ten different jobs or missions they’d done together. It was probably very impolite of her to interrupt, but she couldn’t help herself.
The moment they realized she was laughing they immediately stopped talking. She grinned at Ehlren. “Is this how they always are? If so, I should’ve done this much sooner.”
“I think Duchess Tanarien would have something to say about that.” Duke Ingram’s disapproval was quite clear, and she squelched her amusement.
“Yes, well, to get back on topic, I wonder, General, would you tell me about your home? I’ve read a bit about dwarven architecture, but never seen it for myself. Is it as impressive as the books make it out to be? I can’t imagine actually seeing such wonders if it’s true.”
Ehlren puffed out his chest a bit. “Books and drawings cannot do it justice, Lady Arden. Our cities are built inside great caverns, deep in the hearts of mountains with ceilings higher than you can see without a spyglass. Every opening is meticulously carved in a specially designed arch, calculated to the exact right amount of support within a pebble’s weight. They’ve withstood earthquakes and centuries of tunneling below. The few that have fallen only did so after millennia of existence, usually caused by the Void disruptions once every age.”
“Like Dhagba?” she interrupted.
He nodded. “You know a bit of the history behind your gift, it seems.”
On the edge of her seat with excitement, Arden was giddy to speak about something she knew a little of. “Of course. I knew the instant I laid eyes on the dagger what importance it held. Nothing shines like Gordian metal. It bends the light in ways others don’t. I’ve only read about it, but I knew it couldn’t be anything else the moment I saw it. Has there been any further progress in replicating the creation of such items?”
“Sadly, no,” Ehlren said. “Though especially during this past war, interest was renewed. It’s uncertain if the material was specific to Dhagba, or an alloy of some kind. Exploratory parties have gone to those ruins in the past, but most never return. Those that do are… changed.”
“Changed? How so?”
“He’s referring to the madness caused by prolonged exposure to places tainted by tears in the Danahoi,” Darius explained. “Dhagba’s destruction didn’t end that particular invasion from the darkness so much as it simply collapsed and ceased to be accessible. That war was won in the valley outside the mountain, but there were rumors the tear was never completely sealed.”
“So…” She frowned, trying to puzzle it out. “Is it possible Torn Ones still come through there, into our world?”
Vennic hummed thoughtfully. “Possible, but not likely. The entire interior of the mountain collapsed, shortening the peak by two miles or more. Without years of armies working to dig it out, there’s no way in, and no way for them to leave.”
“But if there are exploratory parties sent there, surely there’s at least one way.”
Ehlren grimaced. “The last party sent included Ogtern’s previous yar’s son, Aniff. He returned ranting about horrors and deeds done in the name of survival that turned the stomachs of the most hardened dwarven warriors. After that, Yar Berza ordered the only potential path closed, going so far as to blow it up with massive amounts of explosive potions. If it wasn’t impassable before, it most certainly is now.”
Disappointed to hear about the loss, she deflated a little. “And I suppose there aren’t enough Gordian weapons left to analyze them properly. Even broken ones must be very valuable and impossible to get hold of.”
“Broken ones?” Ehlren’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “What good would those be?”
Arden shrugged. “Do they not work once broken?”
“They aren’t very useful as weapons once broken.”
Baffled, she stared at him. “But don’t you reuse materials at all?”
“Not those. Even if you smelt it, it turns into unusable garbage. There are broken Gordian swords and such on display in some homes, but most get relegated to the vault of a yar whenever they’re found.”
“But no one tests the broken pieces at all?” She couldn’t believe what he was telling her. If those remnants were of no value, perhaps there was a small chance she could get hold of them herself.
“Our smiths have, but with little result. The pieces don’t look the way whole weapons do, with the reflecting of light.”
Arden sat back and scratched a fingernail across her lips, thinking. “Perhaps it’s an enchantment then?”
“Dwarves have no magical abilities, but some study the theories,” Ehlren explained. “Only enough for us to understand certain things, but I’ve never heard of a dwarf mage, no. Gordia could have recruited the help of one, but that’s unlikely. Even now, dwarves aren’t keen to seek outside help.”
Paitra caught her eye, her silent urging enough for Arden to push for her request. “I was wondering, that is, if it won’t be a terrible lot of trouble, would there be any way at all for me to have a few pieces of those broken weapons? Not that I want to do any disrespect to your people and their smiths, but I’m quite well versed in the metallurgic arts.”
“You think you might be able to add some insight on their creation?” Darius asked.
“Perhaps.” While she couldn’t promise anything, there wasn’t any reason not to try. “And anything I learned I’d happily share with the dwarves, of course.”
Ehlren hemmed and hawed about it for a while before giving his answer. “Well, I can’t really speak for the yar in this case. Ogtern may not be open to such dealings. If you were pleading your case to him personally, he might be more inclined, but—”
“Would I be welcome to make such a petition?” She sat up straight in her seat, instantly energized by such a prospect. To meet the yar of a dwarven city would be unparalleled to anything else she’d experienced.
“The yar doesn’t leave the mountain, Lady Arden,” Vennic said gently, trying to stem her disappointment.
The wheels in her head spun faster than she consciously recognized, an
d she was speaking before she thought her idea through. “As far as I know, no solid plans have been made for my… that is… our honeymoon. Why not a trip to visit things I’ve never seen before? A dwarven city, perhaps an elven settlement, the monuments of Galanor Ridge, the giant forests of Tralana…” Her words stopped as she took in the slackened jaws of everyone around her. “Have I said something wrong?”
Vennic looked annoyed, eyeing Darius with displeasure. “No, my lady, it’s just…”
“No one imagined you wanted a honeymoon,” Ehlren muttered quietly.
Arden sighed, frustrated. “Of course you would all act that way.” The gawking and gaping and stepping around the subject was too grating for her to ignore any longer. “This wedding lurks in every room like a specter. I’m really very tired of no one but my mother speaking of it, and if they do,” she shot a peeved glare at Darius, “it’s only to warn me about all the bad that may come of it. Yes, I’ve noticed. And yes, I’m aware of his…” she waved at Darius, “situation. I’m trying to make the best of it, but I could use a little help.”
Duke Ingram stood, extending a gentle hand towards me. “Dear, you’re very worked up about this. Perhaps you should—”
“What, Your Grace, change the subject? Give people I respect any less honesty than I would ask of them?”
He frowned. “I was going to suggest another cup of tea to calm yourself, but—”
“Tea?” She gaped. “You think tea is the answer here?”
The expression on his face reminded her far too much of how adults would look at her when she was six years old and upset about being denied a sweet before dinner. She hated his placating smile and all it implied. “My lady, you really shouldn’t get so worked up over a trivial matter like—”
Getting to her feet, her pent up frustration bubbled over beyond control. “Trivial? Trivial. Really? That’s your opinion of this whole mess? Oh, never mind it, dear. It’s only a marriage. Nothing to fret over. Nothing to see. Pish posh have some tea.”
His lips pinched together in a tight line. “I think that’s quite enough, Lady Arden.”
In a huff, she stood and marched toward the exit, Paitra and Elena scrambling after her. “You’re absolutely correct. If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, I’m at my limit of being told how I should feel about things for today. Do enjoy your tea, gentlemen.”
She would’ve slammed the door, but she was halfway down the hall before she thought of it.
Darius
“You what?” Ingram towered over him as Darius explained, head hung, what he said to Arden the night before. “Have you lost all sense?”
“She needed to know,” he said to the floor. “She asked me for honesty, and I promised I would give her that.”
Furious, Ingram stomped around the room, trying to control his anger. “You damned fool. As hard as I worked to find you someone who might… Why in the Fires of Ferelnor would you purposely try to ruin it? You won’t do better than Arden even if the damned daughter of Danumbar’s emperor wanted your idiot hand in marriage. I’ve known this girl her whole life, and I swear on all that’s sacred if you’ve caused irreparable damage—”
“I know, I know,” he said, frustrated at himself and at Ingram for telling him things he already knew. “Ehlren’s already pointed out how mind-bogglingly stupid I am. Threats are unnecessary. I’m doing the best I can, but you knew I didn’t want this, Ingram. I was bound to screw it up eventually. Might as well get the worst of it out of the way.”
“Tell me how you’re going to fix this.”
Darius stood and began his own pacing, walking the floor behind the couch. “I don’t know. If I had any idea how to make it up to her—”
“Why not start with planning your trip?” Vennic suggested as he draped an arm across the back of his chair.
He stopped pacing. “What trip?”
“The one she asked for. Your honeymoon. Take her to see things she’s never seen. It would at least show her you cared enough to remember what she wishes for.”
“Taking a young noblewoman who was raised in wealth on a journey like that?” Ingram stared at them as though Vennic suggested murder. “She’s hardly accustomed to that sort of traveling. It would be much too dangerous.”
Darius considered the idea. “Not really. The places she mentioned are perfectly safe. And if we take a company of soldiers, plus my sword—”
“And my bow,” Vennic added.
“That, too,” he said with a nod of thanks. “With all of that, she’d be very well protected.”
“I refuse to allow it.”
“You refuse to—” Dumbstruck, it was all he could do not to strangle him out of sheer annoyance. “Am I or am I not your Crown Prince?”
“You are.”
Darius took two steps toward him, trying to rein in his anger. “And will I or will I not be your king next week?”
He saw the two steps and raised him one more. “You will be, but I cannot stress how—”
Closing what little space remained between them, Darius stared him down, overtaking him by a good three inches or more. “Then, as your superior, I order you, so help me, Your Grace, you will stand down and you will keep your mouth shut. I’ve heeded your council in almost all things, but you will not press me any further when it comes to the woman I’m to marry. I’ll have you bound and gagged and thrown in a cell to keep you from preventing me in doing this. Do you understand?”
Ingram’s eyes narrowed as he met Darius’s heated stare, his shrewd politician’s mind turning over his words and weighing his threats. After a very tense moment, his shoulders relaxed, and he stepped back with a bow.
“As Your Highness commands, so shall it be.”
“And not a word of this to anyone, Ingram,” Darius growled at him. “Not her mother, not her handmaidens, and certainly not the lady herself. Only those who need to know, will, and at my discretion only. It will be a surprise for her— a gift. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly.” He straightened and headed for the exit. “If His Highness has any further need of my poor advice, I’ll be in my office for the remainder of the day.”
As the door slammed, Darius winced. His temper had gotten the better of him, and he shouldn’t have spoken so harshly with the man.
The clink of glass pulled him out of thought, and he turned to see Ehlren pouring brandy into his goblet.
“Anyone else for tea?” He grinned before knocking back the drink.
Sighing, Darius sank into the chair behind the desk. “I think tea would be lovely. And best leave the bottle out.”
Chapter 12
Arden
“You need to relax. Everything will be fine,” Paitra said as she straightened Arden’s necklace and adjusted one of the braids pinned to the top of her head.
After the disastrous ending to the tea party a week before, Arden was utterly incapable of hiding her problems from her friends. She spent a pitiful hour crying on their shoulders about anything and everything, but mostly about Darius’s confession. Wonderful women that they were, they made excuses to her mother about her not feeling well enough to join her for dinner, and by the following morning she composed herself enough that it didn’t prompt any uncomfortable follow-up questions.
Despite her resolution to make the best of her situation, she avoided the prince the rest of the week, but that day she was faced with having to see him again.
“It isn’t only his coronation,” she said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her silver and blue flowered gown. “What if I fall over when I kneel to receive my tiara? It’s not every day a person becomes a princess, you know.”
Paitra chuckled a little. “You’ve practiced that a million times or more, Arden. You could do it in your sleep by now.”
Leaving the dressing room, Arden retreated to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s more than that.�
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Paitra sat beside her, her pale locks brushing Arden’s shoulder. “I know it is.”
“It’s one step closer to my wedding day. Once I’m elevated to princess, all that’s left is the formalities of the ceremony. It’s just… it’s so final, I guess.”
They sat in silence for a while, Paitra’s hand holding hers in comforting solidarity. Having a friend like her handmaiden made everything in life more bearable.
“May I ask you a question?”
She sighed. “Of course you may.”
“Would you rather not have known?”
It was a question she considered often, but she’d yet to come up with an answer. “I don’t know, honestly. There’s a certain happiness that accompanies ignorance, but maybe it’s better to know. It’s hard to be disappointed when you have no expectations, or if you do, only poor ones.”
“Then perhaps this is the worst of it. Only up from here, maybe?”
“I suppose that’s possible, but you’ll pardon me for having my doubts.”
Paitra gave her a gentle hug before pulling her to her feet. “It’s hard to see any light in the darkness sometimes. It will get better.”
Grimacing, Arden let her guide her to the door. “Per him, I am the light, though I don’t really understand why.”
“You’ve always been able to see the best in people, Arden, though it’s hard to see that in yourself sometimes. He seems like a smart man. Perhaps what he sees is what you don’t?”
“I don’t feel very bright these days, Paitra. Like I’ve never been right about anything my entire life.”
The way her heart-shaped mouth curled up at the edges, just enough to plump the apples of her cheeks… That was her smile whenever she was tolerating Arden saying something stupid. Her viridian eyes sparkled as though she was laughing at her own secret joke, though it wasn’t meant as unkind. Paitra always looked that way when Arden was at her lowest, because she knew it never lasted long.
Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) Page 11