His finger against her mouth abruptly stopped her rambling, replaced by the racing of her pulse instead.
“Ingram is perfectly capable of running things as regent, as he was in charge during the years after my uncle was killed. The Chancellors know their jobs well, and will keep me updated with birds as we go. Paitra’s been seeing to the things you’ll need for the trip, and she’s conferred with Vennic about the areas of terrain she was unfamiliar with. As to the other thing, I suppose that’s up to you. I took care of everything I could with this, as I didn’t want to worry you with the arrangements. Vennic actually did the majority of the planning. He was very excited about it, honestly. It’s been a while since he traveled at all, and I think he’s going all out for the occasion.”
“Vennic’s coming with us?”
He nodded, pleased by her shift in demeanor and renewed interest. “And a company of soldiers as well. I should warn you, although I spoke with Paitra about it already and she says you’ll be all right with it, we will be traveling on horseback.”
“A month spent riding across the kingdom? Sounds lovely, actually. I take it this isn’t the type of tour with grand accommodations at every stop?”
“Tents, mostly.”
“I see.”
“I thought…” He shifted beside her. “You said you wanted to understand me better. As that was the way I lived for quite a large part of my life, I thought maybe it would give you some of the insight you were looking for. But if it’s not to your liking—”
“It’s not a problem, Your Majesty.” Again, she caught herself reading more into his words than she should, and she had to stop him. “I’m not the delicate flower in need of constant pampering my mother would have people believe me to be. I’d actually welcome the break from the constant wardrobe changes and endless hours of sitting in front of a mirror, waiting on braids and curls and rouge.” Pausing, she considered it. “I’m not required to wear dresses all the time for this sort of trip, am I? I’ve missed the riding breeches I wore constantly a year back.”
When he chuckled, it warmed her heart. It felt good to know she made him happy, even though part of her ached at having to hide her disappointment. Still, she had to see the best in things, and the trip was an opportunity she’d never had before, and might not again for a long time.
“You’re welcome to wear whatever you like. While I appreciate the effort you go to on any given day, I certainly don’t require it. “
She clamped down on her sigh. It was nice to know he cared very little about what she looked like.
Instead, she gave him another smile and stood. “Thank you for the gift, Your Majesty, but I really have to be—”
Standing, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Darius, please, and you don’t have to go yet. I can have lunch sent for so we might talk a bit more.”
His touch turned her insides to a wobbly goo, but she refused to let it sway her. Lingering would only set her up for more tiny heartaches. “Thank you, but I think my mother would have a great deal to say about that, and I doubt you’ll have as little difficulty quieting her next time. You did promise to return me, after all.”
He frowned a little, but acquiesced, showing her to the door. “Before you go, may I ask…”
Patiently waiting, she smiled up at him. “Hmm?”
“Are we all right? I mean…” He raked a hand through his hair, tousling it into a perfectly imperfect mess. “If I ask after you again, will you still avoid me?”
She closed her eyes and summoned her courage, releasing a small held breath when she looked at him again. Lifting up on her toes, she brushed a soft kiss across his cheek, pulling away quickly to avoid his eyes. She’d never been so bold with anyone before, but considering what they’d be to each other in two days’ time…
She turned the door handle and glanced his way. “I think we’ll be all right, kendala.”
Dipping the smallest curtsy, she let herself out, not waiting to hear his reply. Her emotions were completely jumbled in her head, pulling her in five directions at once. She knew he was doing all he could to compensate for what he couldn’t give, but…
She couldn’t help wishing for more.
Darius
When the door closed behind Arden, all he could do was stand there gaping for a moment. His skin tingled where her lips had been, a sensation he’d not expected from the contact. Echoes of Naya tugged at him, and he gasped as though he’d been punched. A memory of her swept him away— the soft feel of her skin as she said her last goodbye, the scent of summer grasses permeating every inch of her, the way her hair slipped through his fingers…
He pinched his eyes shut, pressing his palms against the lids to blot out the lingering visions. He needed to let go of those ghosts, but they clung to him like festering leeches on any potential for happiness within his reach. Not for the first time, he wondered how long he’d be forced to endure the endless guilt over letting her go and longing for what he’d never have again. Perhaps Vennic was right, and visiting the Ansere’th lands would be a big mistake. Even if Naya wasn’t there, he had too many memories of her in the forests at the edge of the Blighted Sands. If something so small as Arden’s kiss on his cheek left him feeling as though a horse kicked him, what would all those ties to Naya in one place do to him?
Trudging over to an arm chair, staring into the fire, he allowed himself a moment of grief. The flames were the color of Naya’s tresses at sunset, and he could see her hovering over him, brilliant red hair glowing in the rays of day’s end…
“What are you waiting for, dragool?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?”
“Burning as the sun does. I worry you’ll scorch me if I get too close.”
“Perhaps I will, but wouldn’t you like to find out?”
Back then, the entire world could’ve been ablaze and he’d have no fear. She was wild, dangerous, exotic, and he lost himself in the deep violet pools of her eyes. There were no cares about the future, as, for them, every day they lived could easily be their last. They stole what small comforts they could. Naya and he found refuge in one another, never daring to speak of tomorrow. Everywhere they went, death surrounded them, monsters hounded them, blood colored the ground as they slashed through every enemy. Their lives were hurricanes on the open sea, colliding in one massive storm with only the two of them at the silent center.
All wars end eventually, and so do storms.
Neither of them knew the road ahead; how could they? The tiniest thing, a mark carried from birth, paved an unchangeable path for him, and one she could not walk by his side. Another war raged in Naya’s heart, and she sought to quell it. Her fate laid elsewhere.
If she found peace, he didn’t know. Their goodbye was the last time they spoke. Vennic heard things from time to time, but even when Darius asked, he was vague with his answers. He understood their separation was unavoidable and did his best to keep his friend from dwelling on the past too much. Honestly, Darius thought the elf only stayed out of concern for his sanity, but he was glad for it.
His reverie faded from white hot memory back into the dull ache time granted him. It was always there, but rarely so sharp as it was that moment. Seven months without Naya and it was slowly getting easier, but not enough to allow him love for another.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, asahana.”
Chapter 15
Arden
Each breath was a battle. Her inhalations came in wheezing gasps, her exhales in forced, choking spasms.
“Just turn around and look in the mirror. Once you see how lovely you look—”
“I can’t!” The words wrenched themselves from Arden’s throat as her eyes stayed firmly shut. “I can’t do this. There’s no way.”
“Arden, be reasonable,” Elena said. “I
t’s your wedding day. I know you’re nervous, but—”
“Queen and married to a man who’ll do nothing but offer me apologetic placations for the rest of my life? I can’t. I can’t do this. How can I do this?”
Strong hands gripped her shoulders and whirled her around. Her eyes flew open in time to see Paitra’s palm flying at her face, connecting with her cheek in a loud smack. Arden stumbled back into Elena’s arms, gaping in stunned, painful shock.
“Stop being a selfish child. The man cares for you a great deal, and you have an entire kingdom expecting you to act like the adult you are now. You are far, far better than the simpering, whining adolescent you sound like. Knock it off.”
Her skin burned where she struck, her eyes welling up with tears. “But…”
“He already gave you a way out, and you were reasonable enough to pass on it then. It’s too late to change your mind now. Get a hold of yourself. It’s time to live with your choices.”
Lifting shaky fingers to her face, Arden tried to wrestle her panic back into submission. She knew Paitra spoke the truth, but getting herself to come to grips with logic was astoundingly more difficult than she ever dreamed.
Paitra’s expression softened and she stepped towards her, gathering her in her arms as Arden crumbled into her embrace. “I’m sorry I struck you, but hysterics don’t suit you, dearest one.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right, but…” Arden mumbled into her shoulder.
“I know it’s not easy, Arden.” Her hand rubbed calming circles against the white satin of the dress. “But I also know what you’re capable of. This fatalistic attitude isn’t who you are. Just think of all the good that will come of it, and the not so good will fade from your heart.”
“And now I’ve ruined my face, too.”
Paitra chuckled and eased away, holding her at arms’ length. “Not too bad, actually. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
All day, with everything she did, Arden couldn’t stop herself from realizing it was the last time she’d do anything as a Tanarien. That morning was the last time she’d wake in that bed. Lunch was the last meal she’d eat in that room. Her bath was the last she’d have as an unmarried woman. Her body would soon know a man’s touch, though she wasn’t sure what that would change or how she would feel about that in particular. Rationally, she knew those things weren’t her last anything, as she wasn’t dying, but her entire life would be something other than what it had been before.
It was terrifying.
“There now,” Paitra said as she finished the final touches on Arden’s face. “No one will ever be the wiser.”
She stood from the small padded stool, taking a deep, calming breath, and let Elena lead her back to the mirror. With a reassuring smile, she crooked her finger, signaling her to put her head down. The tiara settled into place in front of the ringlets cascading down from the pile on her head, and Paitra attached the comb for the veil, concealing it within the tresses. Arden straightened and closed her eyes, allowing them to turn her to face the full-length mirror.
She kept her gaze to the floor at first, giving herself a few more seconds to steel her courage. She took in the hem of white satin, following the delicate blue gemstones gracefully swirling up into Marillion morning glories, fully bloomed as they faced the golden sunburst pattern reaching out from the embroidery at her waist. The shining threads spread up the bodice, curling and curving around her breasts until they faded into thin tendrils at the V of her neckline. The sapphires accentuating the edges of fabric glinted, offering bright promises alongside the dripping pearls of the necklace gleaming as they laid across her collarbone. Long white sleeves flowed from her shoulders, revealing her hands peeking out from the material like the stamens of lilies.
At last, she found her eyes in her reflection, wide irises gazing back at her in deep blue wonder. Her pink-stained lips parted in awe as she took in the whole of herself, amazed that the person before her was not the girl she held in her mind as the image of herself. That woman was nothing like her. She was graceful, composed, filled with the glow of life and a future of hope. Is that what everyone saw when they looked at her? Was it truth, or a pretty lie covering the tentative heart trembling beneath the beautiful shell?
A gasp behind her woke Arden from her trance, and she turned to see her mother standing in the doorway of her dressing room, hands covering her mouth. “Oh, Arden. You’re…” She dropped her hands, her face beaming with happy pride. “I’ve never seen such beauty.”
Near to tears, she walked towards her, gathering her in her arms. “You’ll always be my little girl, but this is how I will remember you from this day forward.”
“Please don’t make me cry, Mother.” Arden squeezed her tightly. “I’ve already messed myself up once. Any more of this and I’m sure to do it again.”
“I just can’t believe…” She pulled away and swiped at her eyes. “It really goes by so fast, dear. I’m sorry. I’m just a little emotional is all. You know how I am at weddings.”
A small, but genuine smile eased its way onto her face. Her mother was prone to waterfalls of tears at weddings, regardless of who the couple was. “Yes, I know.”
Her fingers fluttered through the air, attempting to brush away sentimentality. “Your father’s here to escort you. Best not keep everyone waiting.”
Arden nodded, then swallowed nervously, glancing at Paitra for a boost of courage. She grinned and dipped her head, effortlessly flung the lace of her veil over her face, and shooed her after her mother. A step or two out, the handmaiden gathered up the end of the train and they were off.
Arden’s resolve to keep from crying again nearly broke when she saw her father’s face. Overcome by the sight of her, all he could manage to say was a whispered “I love you” in her ear when he hugged her. Not lingering on the moment, she took his arm as they stepped into the hallway, and their journey to the throne room began in earnest.
Again she found herself under the unforgiving gaze of the carved king’s hollow eyes. Soft strains of stringed instruments drifted out from under the door, but not the music that would announce her arrival. She waited there, her father’s hand over hers as she tried to quell her nerves. Behind her, two young girls took over the handling of the ten feet of fabric trailing her, and, without looking, she knew Paitra was falling in beside Elena, both behind her mother. Her heart raced once more as two guards came to attention in front of her, their armor clanging together as the sound of trumpets blared.
The doors parted before them.
Her final march as House Tanarien began.
Darius
Vennic nudged him, urging him forward, and Darius nearly drew his sword on him he was so caught up in his tension. Despite Ingram’s admonishments to take it easy that morning, he spent hours hacking away at practice dummies and dodging the arrows his friend sent his way. He spent every last moment doing anything he could to distract himself from what was coming.
The event he could no longer avoid or ignore was upon him.
Rather than draw the almost useless ceremonial sword from its sheath, however, Darius remembered where he was and stepped from his spot at the side of the stairs to the center where Arden would meet him. His heavy fur-trimmed cloak was unbearably hot over already stifling clothing, but his damp brow was the least of his worries.
He stopped on his mark and took the first step to wait. It was time. There was no going back.
The grand trumpet fanfare blasted through the throne room, and the rows upon rows of gathered guests all turned in their seats to face the entrance. The massive doors parted, revealing two armored guards at the head of the bridal party, but behind them…
A glowing vision in white floated down the carpeted aisle, lace obscuring her face, but there was no mistaking her. She sparkled without the help of jewels and precious metals. Arden shone like the sun, and he couldn�
��t breathe for several moments. Her journey across the room slowed time itself, and he was a captive prisoner.
The guards before her split to either side, and Duke Tanarien stopped five paces from where Darius waited. He turned and smiled at his daughter, leaning in close to leave a loving kiss on her left cheek and whisper something, which prompted a nod of acknowledgment from her. He took her hand, and they stepped forward.
Arden curtsied low, nearly touching the floor before Darius. Seeing her show such fealty, radiant as she was, he had to stop himself from correcting her, instead bowing to her father before taking her hand from him. Her touch was light as a feather, so soft he worried his hands, calloused from a life of violence and rough living, felt akin to sandpaper to her. If it bothered her, she made no mention of it, and they proceeded up the stairs together.
He wanted to say he remembered every inspirational word the High Cleric spoke, or the feel of the ring as he slipped it over her finger, or even how she sounded when she repeated the vows of marriage, but his entire memory blurred from the moment he took her hand until he reached for her veil.
Stupid as it was, a single, minuscule thought weaseled its way into his head.
What face would he see beneath the lace?
Arden was beautiful, her cheeks flushed with innocence, but he had to force a happy smile. He closed his eyes as he leaned in for the kiss that would seal their union.
His only thoughts were of Naya’s lips as he met Arden’s instead.
As he pulled away, her lids opened with a slow flutter. Her clear blue eyes searched his, hope and fear swirling together as he tried to look reassuring. The moment passed and they turned to the guests, immediately met with congratulatory applause. He weaved her arm in his and waved to their guests, allowing the young bearers of Arden’s train ample time to remove the fabric from their path back down the stairs. He felt Arden’s weight falter a little, and adjusted his hold to keep her standing.
Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) Page 14