“I will stand when I feel like it, and not a moment sooner.” She turned her nose up at him, not about to admit defeat.
As she moved to spear another carrot, he snatched her plate away, bolting out of reach before she could grab for him.
“Then if Her Highness would like to finish her meal, perhaps she would indulge me in a small demonstration?”
Stupid pride burned in her gut at double strength; once because she refused to give in to his childish argument, twice because she would rather starve than show him how utterly useless she was. She closed her mouth, deciding she was better off disarming him than trying to one-up him. He already admitted to being a poor player of subtle court games, so why not use her strength?
She shifted her weight and set her hands in her lap, putting on the patient smile she used when her mother was being particularly irrational. “If I’m not mistaken, queens typically don’t give orders on their feet. Do you think me less than any other queen that I should be forced to stand?”
“Ah,” he mused, only mocking her a little. “Taking up that mantle already, are we?”
“Are you really certain you want to pursue that subject, kendala?” Feeling prickly, it was time to show him how cutting words could be when properly applied. While her legs might not’ve been overly cooperative, her tongue was as sharp as any sword. “I don’t recall that being a topic you’re overly fond of. You know I can’t be queen until—”
He held up a hand, stopping her. “You’ve made your point, Arden. I like my pride intact as much as you do yours.” He stepped forward and handed her the plate. “I concede the argument.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she did her best to shake off the slimy feeling she always got when she stooped to that sort of manipulation. She avoided it when she could, but it was either admit she was a weak, overzealous fool who needed coddling, or poke at his wound a little.
As she was still a little stung herself, she opted for poking. Her conscience wasn’t particularly happy about it, however.
Darius had been given the crown by virtue of his birth. Arden would only earn hers by providing him with an heir. As there was no telling when that might happen, if it ever did, her title would always be a vulnerable spot for him. She might not be an assassin or a battle-hardened mage, but her wits were weapons just as deadly as any they possessed. At least in that much, her mother taught her well.
Still, no matter what their circumstances, she didn’t wish to hurt Darius. She took the plate from him, slightly ashamed to meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He tilted her chin up to look at him. “Remind me never to play Fortune’s Folly against you, asahana. I’d lose my shirt for certain trying to call your bluffs.”
She took a deep breath and nodded, glad for his forgiveness. “Best keep that to yourself. I’ve a mind to take Vennic for more than a few coins if given the opportunity.”
Darius laughed and stood, retrieving his empty plate from the floor. “I greatly look forward to seeing that. I assume you’re tired from the journey today and aren’t keen to join the others around the fire tonight?”
In all honesty, she was exhausted, though she would’ve gone had her legs allowed it. “If you wouldn’t mind making my excuses?”
“Of course. Will you be all right alone for an hour or two?”
She nodded.
The smile he gave her was almost sad it was so wistful. They both knew he expected her to be asleep when he returned, and she expected him to be as disinterested as the night before.
The tent flap closed behind him, and her heart sank.
She’d never felt so alone as she did in that moment.
Darius
As he retreated from the tent, his smile faded. Arden was putting on a brave face, but he wasn’t at all convinced she was all right. Anyone familiar with traveling by horse for long distances knew the toll it took on the body. By the way Arden was walking, he’d be amazed if she could move at all in the morning.
Her physical condition wasn’t his only concern, however. The hurt in her eyes when she mentioned not yet being queen told him more about how she was dealing with everything than anything else she said all day. But even if he thought he could work himself up for such activities, she was certainly in no condition to endure it. She was correct about him being too careful, but perhaps that was only where she was concerned.
It was in that brooding manner he joined Vennic and their company around the fire. The horsemaster was absently strumming his lute when Darius planted himself on the log beside him. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he stared into the flames as the men around them talked and played dice games to relax.
“Has she admitted to needing help yet?” Vennic asked.
“Not in the slightest.” Darius grinned and shook his head. “Likely she won’t until her legs give out on her completely.”
He stopped playing and dug around inside his cloak, producing a small brown pot. “If you can convince her to use it, I brought along hanja root salve. A little of this will ease the pain.”
Darius took it with an appreciative nod.
“An accompanying massage would be even better for it.”
He grimaced. “Careful, Vennic. That’s dangerous territory.”
He strummed another cord, beginning a new song. “I’ve no idea what you mean. Any healer would give you the same advice.”
“Along with some dragonheart powder in a stamina tea, I suppose?”
He chuckled. “I know better than to suggest you need anything like that after traveling with you for so long.”
“Any birds this evening?” He changed the subject with a wave.
Vennic shrugged and passed him a small, rolled parchment. “One, but not much in the way of updates. We’ve not been gone a full day yet.”
He skimmed the missive from Ingram. No news from the Prasta. Rebuilding supplies still difficult to acquire. Restless refugees. There was an item or two regarding troop movements, but no significant gains or losses there. He tossed the parchment into the fire and tried to relax.
But even with Vennic’s jokes and the easy conversation with the soldiers, Darius was withdrawn and distracted. Thoughts of Arden kept him preoccupied.
An hour gone, and he had enough. He stood and stretched, met with a few overt digs at seeing to his new wife, and returned to his shared tent. A moment of nostalgia overtook him as he reached for the flap, remembering the last instance he’d done so. At the time, he and Naya had completely abandoned any attempts to hide their relationship. Even with a war upon them, they couldn’t have been happier. Their last night in the field after the victory at Orinda Valley, rain drenched everything for miles. They’d fallen asleep to the sound of water drumming on the oil cloth above them.
He banished the memory from his mind, taking a quick peek inside the tent before he went barging in. A single candle burned in a lamp atop Arden’s trunk, casting long, deep shadows across the interior. Arden was little more than a small hill buried under the blankets of the pallet, and the slow rise and fall of her shoulders indicated she was already asleep.
A brief moment of longing crept up on him, the memory of their kiss that morning stirring a twinge of desire. He wanted Arden to be happy, but every time he looked at her felt like a betrayal towards Naya. Even though they parted ways, she still held his heart.
Sighing, he stripped off his cloak and boots, and tossed his bracers and light leather armor into a pile near his pack. When he was down to his tunic and breeches, the cold got the better of him, and he slid under the covers as gently as he could. The pallet wasn’t nearly as large as their bed at the castle, and there was no avoiding some contact with her even at the far edges. Resigned to it, he curled up behind her, relishing the surprising warmth she radiated. She let out a quiet mumble under her breath, but didn’t stir as he draped his arm around he
r.
Her hair smelled of lavender, and he inhaled deeply, relaxing more with every breath.
He couldn’t say how fast he fell asleep, but it felt like mere moments passed before he woke. His body tensed, disoriented by the feel of a soft head of hair tucked under his chin, a woman nestled snugly against his chest.
Naya? No. Too short and not nearly enough hardened muscles.
Arden.
She’d turned in her sleep, a leg draped over one of his, her thigh pressing against him in a spot that promised to prove uncomfortable if she moved even a millimeter more. His thoughts lingered on the prospect of seeking a little relief, but remembering her difficulty walking, he immediately brushed it aside.
When he started to move away, she squeaked a little and grasped his shirt tightly.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Please don’t go yet.”
He frowned, already hearing morning birds in the trees and the early sounds of breakfast being prepared. “It’s time to get up, asahana. We can’t linger all day.”
He felt her swallow hard. “I know. It’s just…”
He brushed the hair from her face to see her more clearly. “Hmm?”
“I thought I’d be fine, that the riding wouldn’t bother me at all, and I didn’t want to be a burden, but…”
It was an enormous struggle, but he managed not to laugh. “If you ask nicely, I may have something to help with that.”
She scowled. “Is this punishment for winning the argument last night?”
Darius chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “No. I just like it when you say please.”
His amusement immediately stopped when she adjusted her leg, brushing his pants to an instant reaction. Arden propped herself up and looked down at him, wide eyes searching his. “Do you?”
Those bewilderingly blue orbs of hers scattered his thoughts. “What?”
The left corner of her mouth tilted up in the very slightest, her cheeks flushing a pale pink. “Like it when I say please?”
Captivated by her gaze, he was only drawn away for a moment when her teeth caught her lower lip.
“Mmm,” he murmured as she inched closer. With only a breath left between them, he stopped her with a finger against her mouth. “What are you doing, asahana?”
The confidence in her eyes faltered, but she didn’t look away. “Asking nicely.”
He set his palm against her cheek before kissing her forehead. “Any nicer, and you might severely regret it when you can’t walk for a week.”
She slumped against his chest with a sigh. “I suppose there is that to consider.”
Darius smoothed her hair, torn between physical need and the ache in his heart. “Give it time. There’s no need to rush things.”
“We’re married,” she grumbled into the blankets. “I think it’s hardly considered rushing at this point.”
“When we get there, you’ll thank me, Arden. I won’t cause you unnecessary pain.”
Her entire body went rigid as she moved her leg back down his body, resting it atop her other leg. It dawned on him the minx purposely positioned herself that way, likely gritting through the pain in her attempt to seduce him. Kissing her hair one last time, he extracted his arm from under her and himself from bed with a chuckle at the realization. The girl was far too clever for her own good.
Fetching the salve Vennic gave him, he adjusted himself to hide any unsightly results of her attempts before returning to her. After he sat down, he held it in his palm, considering it.
Arden, flat on her back, crossed her arms and looked up at him. “So, we stare at a little jar and it magically fixes me?”
Given the teasing he’d endured that morning, perhaps it was only fair to return the favor. With a grin, he shifted to the other end of the pallet and folded the blankets over, up to her knees. She sat bolt upright, gaping at him as he considered the bare legs sticking out of her nightgown.
“What are you doing?”
Darius unscrewed the lid and set it aside, not betraying his amusement for a second. “You want to feel better, don’t you?”
“Yes, but what—”
He scooped a tiny bit of salve out of the pot, the spicy sweet scent permeating the air as he rubbed it into a melty oil. “Then let me work, asahana.”
He winked at her and grabbed a foot, kneading the liquefied salve into her skin. Massaging one foot, followed by the next, it didn’t take long before she laid back on the pillow, eyes closed as little sighs of relief escaped her. Next, her calves, his touch eliciting soft whimpers as he massaged each tender muscle, the herbal medicines penetrating her skin to relieve the worst of her aches. His fingers crept over her knees, her breath hitching as he explored her thighs beneath the blankets. A mixture of pain, relief, and pleasure washed over her expression as his hands pressed into her flesh, attentively working at the sorest places. She trembled the first time he brushed against the fabric of her smallclothes, her breath held in uncertain expectation.
Dare he take it so far?
Her flushed face, the heat of her desire… he wanted her to understand what it could be for both of them when proper care was given and returned. She deserved to know the touch of someone who wanted to never hurt her.
Intent on her face, Darius set his hands to work with gentle pressure, the salve soothing her pain, his touch igniting her passion. Her whimpers turned to moans, her hips rising to meet his motions. Arden’s knuckles went white as she gripped the blankets, and he worried she might draw blood as fiercely as she bit her lip. He briefly recalled the stick Vennic left in the tent, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have kept it after all, as she might’ve actually needed it to bite down on.
Close, he pressed a little harder, focusing on her most sensitive spot as she quivered and jerked. Arden’s lips parted, ready to release a cry. To save her the embarrassment in camp later, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her delight with extreme satisfaction as she arched up into him. Her arms encircled his neck, the intensity of her kiss making him question his own sanity at pushing her away earlier.
Not since Naya had a woman come apart in his arms that way.
She stilled in his embrace, panting against his mouth. “Stars above, what magic was that?”
He grinned, incredibly proud of himself. “Think you’ll be well enough to walk then?”
She giggled. “Walk? A molded pudding would be less wobbly than me at the moment.”
Laughing, he ran his hand down her inner thigh as he removed it from under the covers. “I was asking if the pain was better, but I’ll take your answer to mean yes.”
With a sigh, she rested her forehead against his. “Much better, I think. Thank you.”
Happy she was sated, he kissed her cheek and pulled away. “Then we better get moving. They’ll be pulling up stakes, and if you want breakfast before we go, we need to grab it soon.”
Darius left her to recover while he dressed for the day, then set out the moment she was on her feet.
There’d be no mistaking the smile she’d wear the rest of the day.
Chapter 18
Arden
There were so many amazing sights to see once they reached their first destination that Arden hardly had time to think of much else for over a week. The pits of Corvath the Unyielding were enormous, bottomless maws of darkness inside an abandoned mine, and she made Darius point out where Yarrold met his demise, even though she didn’t totally believe it. They continued northeast, gathering impromptu crowds in any village or town they passed through, everyone curious to see the new king and his bride.
There was one place that gave her pause and shifted her perceptions. In every town they saw plenty of humans, but rarely elves, even though she knew there were settlements nearby, or some plying their trades in the markets. She thought it curious, but wasn’t overly mindful of it until they stop
ped in a place called Nevahtu, a hilly village a few miles southeast of the Untari mountain range. Their party was invited to lunch at the magistrate’s house, which turned into an afternoon of drinks and pipe tobacco. While she would’ve liked to sit in on the conversation, the smell of burning tobacco made her ill in confined spaces. With the men all distracted, Arden snuck away to see if there was some place she might read for a bit while it was still daylight. She got turned around inside the estate and ended up outside in a courtyard instead, hopelessly lost.
As she pondered her predicament, she caught the sound of giggles beyond a clump of bushes and went to peek around for someone to ask for help.
Two small elven boys stared at her from their spot between plants and the wall surrounding the gardens, their eyes wide at being discovered. She smiled to set them at ease and put her elvish to good use.
“Hello, eradis. May I ask you a question?”
Their jaws dropped open, the taller of the two recovering first. “You know our language, Ta’Sidah?”
Ta’Sidah? They considered her a queen among them? “Fairly well, yes. Are you playing a game back here? Hiding from someone?”
He gulped. “Please don’t tell the osahveth. We’re supposed to keep out of sight, and if we’re caught…”
She recoiled in horror. Osahveth was an unsavory term for a master by his slaves, not elves under employ, never mind children. “Osahveth? Who do you call that? And keep out of sight from whom?”
“The man who owns this house wishes us to stay away from Ta’Sidah and Ta’Sidam,” the younger one squeaked and hid behind the other.
“What? Whatever for?”
“Osahveth says we are unsightly and should not go into the streets while you are here,” the elder explained. “We’re supposed to stay in the diasetam with the rest.”
“The magister ordered you all to—” Her blood boiled, disgusted rage threatening to overtake her rational mind. She took a deep breath and crouched down to their level. “Will you wait here for me? I’d like to see where it is you live, but I can’t go without telling Ta’Sidam where I’ll be. Is that all right? I promise you’ll not get into any trouble for it.”
Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) Page 17