Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1)

by S. A. Huchton

“You found some!” she said as they stopped by a corner table near the back. “Wonderful timing! And look who finally turned up.”

  Ehlren was already well into his cups and met his cool stare with a half-glazed grin. “The proseika returns with his faithful bloodhound in tow! Sit! Sit! I thought I’d introduce Her Royal Highness to the high stakes of Fortune’s Folly. Halga,” he bellowed at the passing barmaid, “two pints for my compatriots here, and another brandywine for the lady.”

  “High stakes?” Darius said as he slid onto the bench beside Arden. “What stakes? I know how you play, Ehlren. You can’t afford to match the royal treasury.”

  In the middle of taking a drink, he nearly choked on his ale. “Don’t be stupid, man! We’re playing for much more valuable things here.”

  Vennic sat beside him with a resigned sigh. “And what’s that?”

  “Hidden truths,” Arden said with a giggle. “The currency of the nobility.”

  “I already didn’t like this idea,” Darius grumbled. “Now I like it even less.”

  “What’s the all the fuss?” she said, waving at Ehlren to shuffle the cards. “We’re two of your closest friends and your wife. There’s no harm in it.”

  And so began his test of will. Arden, being Arden, led Ehlren to believe she never played the game before, but Darius knew better. The dwarf went easy on her to start, and she purposely played poorly, easing him and Vennic into smug security. Ehlren took the first hand, immediately leveling Arden with a serious, if not wobbly, stare.

  “The first truth comes from you, Highness. Tell me, is your husband as surly in bed as he is in the pub?”

  Mid-swallow, Darius spit half of it back into his cup at the question. Arden nearly toppled over with laughter.

  “Stars, he’s worse!” she gasped between giggles. “So serious all the time. You’d not believe how hard I work to make him crack a smile.”

  Darius scowled at Ehlren. “I think we need a few rules for this game.”

  She elbowed him a little. “You’ll just have to win next time, that’s all. Shall we go again? I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

  Three hands in, he decided the real goal was to divulge as many truths about him as possible, rather than about the players in general. Vennic asked Ehlren if he ever caught Darius sneaking cookies from a kitchen, which of course he had, and then regaled everyone with the story of how he got his arm stuck behind a cupboard to get at a hidden stash. Ehlren went next, asking how many pints Darius had the night before they infiltrated the Sigur clan’s hideout to steal back a potion formula, which naturally included the post script where he punched the man who hired them because he wouldn’t stop shouting about the blood on the parchment. Two drinks into the game, Arden changed tactics.

  “Finally!” she said, completely overjoyed at winning the hand. “My question goes to… Ehlren.”

  The dwarf yielded with a wave. “Ask away.”

  “What would you have done if the yar had tried for more than a hand on my backside?”

  Darius sat up straight in his seat, instantly angry. “What?”

  The unsheathing of a weapon preceded Ehlren’s knife embedded in the tabletop. “Used this, dear lady.”

  She considered the dagger. “You should take better care of that. It’s very dull.”

  He grimaced. “I know. Makes it hurt more.”

  “A hand on your— when was this?” Darius demanded.

  She waved it off. “I handled it. It’s your deal.”

  Fuming, he took a long drink of ale and motioned for another, determined to win the next round. But for all his effort, she won again.

  “Vennic,” she said, eyes twinkling, “when was the last time you kissed someone?”

  Darius couldn’t remember ever seeing Vennic blush, but at her question, the elf turned scarlet all the way up to the tips of his pointed ears. “Excuse me?”

  “You look as though it’s been a very long time since you’ve been kissed.” She stood and pressed her palms against the table, squinting at him. “So, when was the last time?”

  Ehlren burst out laughing. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

  Glowering, Vennic grumbled something unintelligible.

  Arden leaned closer. “Pardon?”

  “I said,” he crossed his arms and huffed, “I haven’t.”

  Her eyes went wide with surprise for a moment, but then she perked up, clambering over Darius’s lap before pulling the elf to his feet. Vennic shot him a panicked look, but before either of them could act, Arden threw herself into his arms and plastered her face against his. After the initial shock of it wore off, Darius shot out of the booth, pulling her off him to keep himself from punching his best friend.

  “This game is over.” He grabbed her hand, all but dragging her out of the pub as she giggled and waved to everyone they passed.

  “Am I your pet now?” she said, struggling in his grasp. “Really, Darius.”

  He continued marching them up the street to the ambassador’s house. “Don’t ‘really, Darius’ me, Arden. Have you lost all your senses? What was all that about back there?”

  “Having fun. What else?” She caught up to him, and he released her, fairly certain she wouldn’t immediately run back. “You should try it sometime.”

  “You think kissing other men in front of me is fun?”

  “It was only Vennic.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Does it bother you that your best friend knows your wife as well as you do now?”

  He stopped and looked at her, torn between raging mad and utterly dumbfounded she’d say such a thing, never mind that she was clearly trying to bait him that way. But as he looked at her, she hiccupped and wavered on her feet, undeniably drunk.

  He took a deep breath and tried to be patient with her. Instead of answering her question, he wrapped an arm around her waist and led her up the road.

  “You have a dangerous gift, Arden. I’m learning your tricks, and I won’t fall for them tonight. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

  Arden was silent for the remainder of the walk. He left her in the bedroom while he went to change, and when he returned she was passed out across the bed, boots and all. Sighing, he removed her shoes first, then untied the laces running down the front of her corset. When he eased her up to remove it, she slung her arms across his shoulders, eyes closed and barely conscious.

  “You’re much better than silly old Vennic,” she mumbled, slurred by sleep and alcohol. “But he doesn’t want me, either.”

  Darius winced, heart aching at her words. “You are wanted, asahana.”

  Her lips fluttered as she made a dismissive noise. “Liar.”

  As gently as he could, he laid her back on the pillows, and watched as sleep dragged her under. He brushed the hair from her face, placing it behind her ear.

  “I could never lie to you, Arden. If I could, you’d never have heard that other name cross my lips. I’d have taken you on our wedding night, lying about what we were. You are honest with me, and I will always be honest with you.”

  He tucked the covers up around her, then leaned in close, brushing his lips against hers.

  “You are wanted, asahana,” he repeated in a whisper, “but I am not yet free of her.”

  Arden

  The first thing she did was groan. The second was wince at the pain in her head brought on by the sound of the groan. The third was realize how suddenly her stomach was churning, which led to her dashing out of bed and vomiting in the dressing room basin.

  “I did try to stop you,” Darius said in the doorway, in between her heaves. Arden was sure he was laughing at her, though she couldn’t hear his chuckles over the noise she was making.

  When she settled some, he set a wet cloth and a glass of water on the table beside her and saw himself out, closing the door as he went. She kept h
er eyes shut against the light of the room, thankful she was underground and not in the full brightness of day at least. Was it her, or was it a bit breezier than it should’ve been? Glancing at her legs, she squeaked in horror. Her pants were gone, leaving her only in her knickers and tunic. What had she done the night before? Certainly she hadn’t…

  Arden straightened and did a quick internal check of herself. Aside from nausea and a raging headache, nothing else felt any different. She was fairly certain she’d feel some sort of discomfort or lingering muscle strains if her husband finally capitulated to his duty, but with all the riding she’d been doing, she couldn’t be sure. After a long rinse with the water and cleanup with the towel, she decided she should find out. And since her pants were nowhere to be found, she squared her shoulders and returned to the bedroom with as much dignity as she could muster.

  Darius was sitting by the fire, thoroughly smug and amused at her state. “Sleep well?”

  “Where are my trousers?”

  He chuckled and hooked a thumb over his left shoulder. “By the window where you threw them. Do you not remember removing them?”

  She refused to answer, marching silently to the heap of clothing on the floor.

  “You were quite angry with them around three this morning. It would’ve been hilarious had I not been woken from a sound sleep myself.”

  Behind the back of his chair, she pulled on her pants, busy wondering what else she’d done that would haunt her. She searched her memory, but everything after dinner blurred in uncomfortable ways she was sure meant trouble. Not at all looking forward to asking about it, she took the seat across from him, the table between them filled with tea, bread, and fruit.

  “The tea has a bit of powdered farian root in it. It’ll help with your recovery.”

  A strange feeling nagged at her as she reached for the cup, a certainty she should be thoroughly embarrassed about something, but not knowing what. “Sorry for waking you. Everything after I ate is a bit fuzzy.” She stared into her tea, watching a light sheen of oil swirl along the surface. “If I asked what happened, would you promise not to laugh?”

  “I’d promise to try.” When she glanced up at him, he grinned.

  She grimaced. “I suppose that’s the best I could hope for.”

  Darius leaned forward on his knees. “Do you want the worst of it first, or shall I work up to it?”

  Groaning, she curled up in the wide chair. “Just get it over with.”

  “When I found you, you were at the end of a rather colorful joke about a scullery maid and a horse, dragged me into a game of Fortune’s Folly so you could hustle my friends into divulging truths about me, and then you kissed Vennic.”

  She choked on her tea, coughing and spluttering everywhere. “I did what?”

  He picked up two pieces of bread, handing one of them to her. “On the bright side, you gained quite a lot of esteem in the eyes of the Ogtern dwarves. Not many human nobles can say they’ve held court at the Tinker & Fang.”

  Nausea clawed at her again, and she set her forehead on her knees, hiding her face. “Gods. That’s horrible. I will never, ever drink again. I am so forever sorry. And poor Vennic.”

  “For what it’s worth, you almost got your way. I nearly punched him for it.”

  She peeked at him over her knee. “My way?”

  “I think you were trying to make me jealous.”

  Shutting her eyes, she searched her memory for any recollection of those events. There was a brief moment of clarity, something about conspiring with Ehlren, but nothing solidified. She sighed and took a bite of bread, hoping to settle her stomach. “I can’t imagine why I’d do such a thing. How am I going to apologize to him?”

  “A princess kissed him. You think that’s something to apologize for?”

  She scowled at him. “Of course it is. Whatever my reasons, forcing him into that position was terrible. No matter where we stand, involving him was wrong.”

  He considered her for a moment, then left his seat, wandering off to his changing room. She nibbled her bread and sipped her tea in his absence, wallowing in the mess she made for herself. Had she really gone to such lengths to goad her husband’s jealousy? She always tried to be a good person. Attempting to manipulate Darius that way wasn’t like her at all. As far as she was concerned, alcohol of any sort was on her list of things never to explore again.

  When Darius returned, he perched on the arm of her chair, weighing a small box in his hand.

  “After breakfast this morning, I went shopping.”

  She turned in her seat, curious. “Did you need something?”

  He shook his head and passed the box to her. “After speaking with Ehlren, I learned that you did.”

  Pausing before she took the offering, she looked up at him. “I did?”

  Darius urged her to take it, then waited patiently for her to set aside her half-eaten bread before focusing on the gift. When she removed the lid of the two-inch box, she sucked in a breath. There, nestled inside little curls of parchment, a small teardrop-shaped pendant of iridian crystal sparkled up at her. Covering her mouth with a hand, she bit back a sudden swell of tears. After what he endured from her the night before, he was compelled to give her a present? She sniffled a little, trying not to cry, and he transplanted himself to the floor in front of her, his gentle fingers taking Arden’s in his.

  “It’s my fault you went to such lengths, asahana.”

  She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. “It isn’t your fault at all. You can’t control your own heart any more than anyone else can. This is a wonderful gift. I don’t deserve it.”

  He lifted her chin, smiling softly. “Then let it remind you that you are cared for, flaws and all.”

  Her lip quivered. “I’m a terrible wife.”

  He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “And I’m a terrible husband. Perhaps we’re a good match after all.”

  Resting in his arms, she’d never known such comfort. Her jumbled thoughts settled and coalesced, returning to their usual winding paths. In reliving their conversation, one thing tripped her up and gave her pause.

  “Did you say I almost got my way?”

  His chest rumbled against her cheek. “It’s more like you were pulling the correct levers in the wrong order. But I wouldn’t recommend testing it again.”

  “I don’t think I will be, don’t worry.”

  He released her and motioned back to the food. “It’s nearly lunchtime, but I didn’t think you’d be up for a full meal. I mean to go see some of the afflicted today, but Ehlren has other plans and won’t be able to bring you to Thrass Merdavin. I thought, if you were feeling well enough for it, you could come with me and Vennic, and then we’ll see to the smith.”

  She sat with a sigh. “I’ll be fine, though I’ve no idea how I’ll be able to look Vennic in the eye. Other than that, your plan sounds fine.”

  “Vennic will be all right. No harm done, though he was rather smug at breakfast this morning.” He turned away and left her to her meal. “I’ll go speak with him now, and we’ll make arrangements. Is an hour long enough for you to finish?”

  “Should be.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to hold up your business, so I’ll make it work.”

  She watched him head for the door, but he paused with his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, last night was very enlightening and hardly the worst thing to happen to me when drinking was involved.”

  Arden smiled at him over her shoulder, sheepish. “You’ll have to tell me about that some time.”

  With a last laugh, he opened the door. “That’s definitely a story for another day.”

  When he was gone, she returned to filling her belly in as much as she could, but spent most of her time admiring his gift. She may not have won the grand prize, but definitely felt cl
oser to it. So long as she was patient, there was a small chance he was coming around. Maybe someday they’d be more than respectfully resigned to their marriage.

  She had to keep hoping.

  Chapter 23

  Darius

  “Oh for the love of Valentia, would you two just talk it out already?” After fifteen minutes of wretchedly awkward silence, Darius had enough. “Arden was drunk, Vennic was pleasantly assaulted, no real harm done.”

  After a moment’s pause, Arden stepped to the side of the street and pulled Vennic away, her blue eyes solemn and sincere. “I’m so sorry, Vennic. I’m simply mortified about my behavior last night. Never in my life have I—”

  He held up a hand to stop her, a kind smile beaming down at her. “It’s fine, Arden. Like he said, no harm done, right?” He winked at her. “But you certainly know how to make a point. If I could make a suggestion, though, next time you want to poke at him,” he inclined his head at Darius, “pick a target with less to lose if he actually takes a swing at them. I’m far too pretty to suffer a broken nose.”

  She held up her palms, eyes wide. “Oh no. I’ve learned my lesson. There won’t be a next time.”

  “Are you two about done with it then?” Darius asked, impatient to be on their way.

  They continued on the walk, Vennic settling back into his typical relaxed smugness. “If I could add one last thought, and not that I have much experience with such things, but I should say that I’m rather surprised you don’t take advantage of her skills more often, Darius. Shock aside, it was a very pleasant experience.”

  “Careful, elf,” he growled at him. “Best not irritate that wound any further.”

  Arden giggled, but squelched it the second he glanced her way. It was an odd sensation, being torn between jealousy for Arden and heartache over Naya. Was it possible to have such feelings for more than one person? Even more, did he have any right to feel either? He pushed Naya from his life for the good of the kingdom, and he was keeping Arden at bay for…

  For what? Out of guilt? Was he sparing her pain by denying her, or only causing more by doing so? He couldn’t reconcile it. Eventually, he’d have to give one way or the other. If he set Arden free, she’d be ruined. But if he tried to let go of his past, would he always harbor the sense of betraying Naya? Could he live that way, or would it eat at him until there was nothing left?