Dark One's Bride

by Aldrea Alien

  Clara nodded. “Moderately so.”

  The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as fresh delight sparkled in his dark gaze. “I am glad to hear that,” he murmured. The breath of his words heated the back of her hand a moment before his lips brushed it, the whispering touch tingling through her. “Until later, my dear.”

  She tightened her hold on his fingers, wishing she could command him to stay. “Until tonight,” she agreed, her face heating at the woman’s scrutiny. She wasn’t sure what he had on his mind, but if it meant she’d spend some time at his side, she wouldn’t object to waiting a little while longer.

  Giving a bow to the pregnant woman, Lucias waved aside the man who held his black brute of a horse. He vaulted over the beast’s rump and into the saddle. Clara swore her heart skipped a few beats as, with a dip of Lucias’ head in her direction, his destrier bowed low.

  Then he was off, cantering back out into the street.

  Beside her, the pregnant woman snorted. “Show off.” Her hands fastened around Clara’s wrist in a grip that threatened to cut off her circulation. “Let us retire to the solarium whilst my girls make the final preparations to your chambers.”

  Forced to keep up with the woman or let the both of them fall, Clara stumbled her way up the stairs in silence.

  “Lucias insisted you have your own space until the wedding,” the woman went on, seemingly oblivious to everything else. “It has sparked such fuss with the court. So many wish to know why.”

  Another woman took her place on Clara’s other side, claiming her free arm in a similar possessive grip. “He’s got to have somewhere to steal her from.” Her accent had the words being pulled out in such a soft, careful fashion; akin to the melodious way Thad spoke. “You’re going to love the room.”

  “I will?” she managed to squeak. The pair had already guided her through the castle entrance and they were now ascending a smaller set of stairs. Was this really the way to her chambers? Should they not have been using the main stair opposite the carved archway?

  “Oh yes.” The woman inclined her head. Strands of brown hair fell over her face. “Your chosen chambers are high enough to give one a perfect view of the moors.” Her lips, thickly painted an unnatural red, curved into what Clara guessed was meant to be a smile. “Not that you’ll be doing much looking out the window.”

  It wasn’t until the rest of the women behind them fell to a bout of giggling that Clara realised just what the woman was alluding to. She ducked her head, trying to hide her burning cheeks. She supposed Lucias wouldn’t have cared to announce to the people that he wouldn’t be fully adopting the nomadic marriage customs. Or that she was a virgin and planned to remain that way until their wedding night.

  And who would believe either claim? The words Lucias’ had cautioned her with some months back tumbled through her head. He was right. After spending months alone in his company, they would’ve expected him to have already slept with her.

  “Hush your tongues this instant!” the first woman—Thalia, no doubt of that anymore—snapped over her shoulder. “You know the traditions beyond Endlight are different.” She patted Clara’s face. “Look at that, you’ve made the poor girl blush. Be off with you all! If you cannot be civil, then be gone!” She flapped a hand at the surrounding women as if they were naught but pesky birds and batted at the painted woman still clutching onto Clara’s arm. “Go!”

  The women scurried off, subtly casting dark glances at Thalia before vanishing around various corners. Such looks had undoubtedly been noticed, but the woman paid no heed to them now. Her distended belly seemed to be her sole focus.

  “I do apologise for them, my lady. They can be right jackals at times.” She frowned and rubbed her belly one last time. “This way, if you please.” The woman waddled off down the hall, leaving Clara with the choice of following or becoming utterly lost.

  Chapter Two

  Clara turned on the spot in the middle of the solarium. She stood between the two long tables that filled the middle of the room. Natural light streamed through the tall windows adorning the left wall, illuminating every inch of the space. Dying embers glowed in the cavernous fireplace embedded in the wall opposite the entrance.

  The room was easily twice as big as the one back in the Citadel. Homier, too. The Citadel’s solarium had likely never seen a family anywhere near the size of Farris’ horde. Three sons had apparently been the limit when it came to Lucias’ ancestors and children. And none of those siblings had survived their older brother’s coronation to produce their own offspring.

  Clara ran her hand along the top of a table. The surface was polished in a warm, patchy fashion that could only be achieved through years of loving use. Very few things in the Citadel had such a patina. Everything there was old, but dusty. Abandoned. Back there, she could’ve stood in a room bustling with activity and still feel utterly alone. Here, even though it was just the two of them, there was a welcoming hum to the air.

  Although, now she thought about it, the lack of warmth in her home was likely due to the Citadel’s residents. All of the men and women working in the Citadel were, technically, part of the Great Lord’s army and just as soulless. Beyond Tommy, she’d only the Citadel’s Steward, Gettie, for company. And even the elderly woman had no soul.

  “Come, come.” Thalia ushered her into one of the hearthside chairs in a series of gentle nudges as if shooing a wayward child. “Please, sit whilst I get you something to drink. The water should still be warm.”

  Clara leapt to her feet before the chair could fully accept her weight. “That won’t be necessary, my lady.” She eyed the woman’s belly. The Lady of Endlight had to be close to gifting her lord with another baby. Standing so near, Thalia looked ready to burst, the folds of her gown straining over the bulge. “I wouldn’t want you exerting yourself on my account.”

  “Nonsense. A poor host I would be to not offer you a thing. Now sit. Sit! I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  Clara slowly lowered herself back into the chair. The leather arms were worn in places and bore patches in others, but the cushions still had some padding. A fact she was most grateful for after the journey in the carriage’s less-than-comfortable seating.

  She’d vague memories of sneaking a sip of tea from her mother’s cup. It was a flavour she had come to enjoy over the years, but such luxuries had been expensive even then and her exploratory sips had been few and far between. That’d been back when her family had the coin for her mother to entertain the occasional wealthy customers whilst her father did the final adjustments to their gowns.

  Seemingly satisfied that Clara wouldn’t get back up, Thalia set about making tea. She took up a short, blackened hook and hoisted a small kettle from where it’d been hanging over the ashes and embers in the fireplace. The woman then waddled over to a table sitting just behind where Clara sat, puffing with every step.

  Clara dug her fingers into the leather. In the back of her mind, the reedy little voice of her mother’s past berating echoed on. How dare you let someone wait on you, it screeched. A pregnant noblewoman, no less! Did I not teach you better manners?

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Clara sank deeper into the chair. Things were different now. The venom of her mother’s tongue was little more than a memory, just like the blows Clara had often suffered at the woman’s hands. But soon, she would be the Great Lady and nothing would be able to touch her.

  She listened to the soft trickle of water and the musical clink of porcelain coming from over her shoulder. The smell of brewing leaves tweaked her nose. She fidgeted in the chair. A part of her still ached to help, but she’d managed to keep the urge confined. This wasn’t home. Here on the western fringes of the kingdom, offering to assist again when the offer had already been declined was considered an insult.

  Thalia tottered back into her line of sight, a cup and saucer gracefully balanced in each hand. “Here we are. I do hope the tea is to your liking.”

  Clara seized the proffered saucer,
the cup shaking treacherously in her grasp. She clutched the handle and took a sip of the warm liquid. Overpowering sweetness hit her tongue. Honey. Her eye twitched as she fought down the urge to shudder and, somehow, managed a smile.

  To Clara’s utmost relief, the woman didn’t seem to notice. She’d no clue whether it was the same all over the kingdom, but showing any dislike of offered food was considered impolite. At least, that’s what her mother had taught her. “It is lovely, my lady,” she mumbled, keeping her head down in the off chance that initiating eye contact might reveal her true thoughts. “Very refreshing. Thank you.”

  Thalia waddled over to the chair opposite Clara’s, giving a small sigh as she settled. “Please, please, you will soon be our Great Lady, let us not stick to the formalities of titles in private. Call me Thalia. I insist.” She sipped at her own tea and smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. “So,” she murmured, elegantly resting both cup and saucer on her belly. “You and Lucias?”

  Clara mimicked the woman’s action by placing her saucer on her lap. Keeping it steady wasn’t as easy as it looked. “Yes?”

  The woman glanced about them. They were still the room’s only occupants. “I was a little surprised to learn that you two, despite choosing Endlight as the stage for your wedding ceremony, will not be indulging in her more… risqué customs.” A soft, almost questioning, note tinged her words.

  Clara took a deep breath. So it starts. After five months, she had expected Lucias to search for some way around the promise he’d made at the beginning of their engagement. The one where he’d sworn she’d remain a virgin until their wedding night. She just hadn’t anticipated that way to come via another.

  Why did he tell her? And how much of what she’d thought of as deeply personal details did he confide in this woman? Or had Lucias confided in another not knowing it would also be passed to the man’s wife? Thalia was married to Thad, after all, and the man was like a brother to Lucias.

  Still, the idea that anyone else knew made her stomach turn. At least it was the Lady of Endlight enquiring rather than the Lord. “I know how it must sound,” Clara said, straightening her back in what she hoped was a pose that radiated authority. “But we—”

  Thalia gasped and laid a hand on Clara’s knee, almost upsetting both their cups. “I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries, my lady, but allow me to explain myself first.” She eyed Clara expectantly.

  It took a moment for Clara to realise the woman was waiting for approval. She inclined her head in a way she hoped didn’t appear too eager.

  “May I start by saying I’m not a native to this city.” She patted Clara’s arm. “I grew up on the eastern border and—”

  “Port Dank?” Clara blurted, momentarily forgetting herself at the thought of other places. The little she’d seen of Endlight might not have been what she expected, but surely something as enormous and magnificent as the ocean couldn’t be lessened by reality.

  Thalia lifted a brow at her, the soft quirk to her smile taking the edge off the otherwise harsh expression. “My family’s estate had seaside views, but no, I did not live in Port Dank. Rather, Port Dyre.”

  Clara blushed. She took another sip of the sickly-sweet tea in an attempt to conceal her face behind the cup. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  The woman laughed. “You remind me so much of me when I was your age. My home was a peaceful place. The Dyre Estate is perched almost in the ocean and I always had a clear line of sight to the water, but I’d never wandered further than the city markets.” She waved her hand, taking in the room with one wide sweep over her arm. “All this was so much more than I’d ever dreamed, but then Thad came and…” Thalia clutched at the pendant resting on her breast. A soft smile, brimming with the fondness of memories, curved the woman’s lips.

  Clara easily recalled the day when she had first met Thad. Even with her mind preoccupied with trying to flee the Citadel, she’d been momentarily stunned by the Endlight Lord’s looks and manners. She could easily imagine that, when he’d been a far younger man in search of a bride, he must’ve seemed like something from a fable.

  “I know how terribly daunting the prospect of their customs can be if you’re not brought up in their ways. I certainly found it so.”

  A hereto unknown tension slipped free of Clara’s spine. That was the reason Thalia had chosen to speak of this. But were the woman’s intentions merely to calm Clara about the upcoming proceedings or did Thalia seek to sway her into thinking otherwise about the choice not to adhere to the custom of betrothed couples being with one another on the eve of their wedding?

  Clara cleared her throat. “No one seems willing to tell me, and I wonder if you would be so kind… Why do the people of Endlight practice the…?” Clara’s tongue faltered as she searched for the words that would not set her face aflame.

  “Hmm?” Thalia mumbled around her teacup. “Oh. They believe a virgin at the altar is unlucky.”

  “Unlucky?” Clara echoed. When countless women across the kingdom married without bedding their betrothed prior to their marriage? She supposed some of those couples might’ve had a poor run with their luck, but she’d be willing to bet that the larger percentage lived their married lives quite contently. She certainly wasn’t going to change her mind based on superstition.

  Thalia giggled. It was a sound that seemed more at home coming from a girl of seven rather than one who must’ve been twice Clara’s age, but it also brought to life a faint blush to the woman’s lightly-powdered cheeks as Thalia clearly fought to restrain herself. “Sounds preposterous, doesn’t it? I didn’t believe it myself at first, but the people here still believe in this old folktale that dates back to when the moors belonged to themselves.”

  “A folktale?” She could see some people putting such stock in stories, but all?

  Thalia nodded, setting aside her cup and saucer. An act Clara swiftly mimicked in the hopes of fobbing off any more offers of sweet tea. “I can’t recall it precisely and—” Thalia sat back, a faraway smile gracing her lips. “Well, Thad tells it far better than I, you understand?”

  He probably does, Clara mused. The man likely used his people’s lore to coax his betrothed into following along with Endlight’s customs.

  “It goes something along the lines that there was this couple, a nomadic version of nobility that the Endlight lordship is said to have originated from. The pair decided to shun their people’s custom. The woman did not receive a visit from her soon-to-be husband on the eve of her wedding. Instead, she was kidnapped.”

  Clara frowned before she caught herself. It took a large degree of control, but she managed to smooth her forehead and keep her mouth from pursing. “I’d hardly consider that as unlucky. An ill-timed twist of fate, perhaps. Who’s to say she wouldn’t have been taken even if they had been together?”

  “If the husband had been in the tent with her, I’m sure he would’ve fought off her kidnapper.”

  She nodded. “But he also could’ve died in the act of defending her. It could’ve happened even after the couple were wed. Or later still. Would the people still have linked it to that day?”

  Thalia shrugged. “You would do better asking Thad that question. Or even Lucias. I hear he’s very knowledgeable in nomadic traditions.”

  Clara hoped that, what with him being the Great Lord, Lucias was well versed in all of his kingdom’s traditions and not just those of one border city. She had certainly attempted to educate herself on any differences across the land.

  The woman picked up her empty teacup. “More?”

  She shook her head. Her tongue was still trying to recover from the previous cup. “No, thank you. But what about the story? Was that the end? Did he ever find her?”

  Laughter shook Thalia’s whole body. She laid a hand upon her belly, rubbing it in a seemingly absent manner. “Oh yes. The husband supposedly spent five years searching for his bride, only to discover she’d chosen to marry her kidnapper and had given the man several sons.”<
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  Clara could see how that might happen. It all depended on what sort of person the kidnapper was in comparison to the man the woman was supposed to marry. Like Lucias. Clara had almost believed him to be a beast until the Endlight lords came. He’d been gruff at first, clearly still trying to process the death of his father and his new position as ruler. Adding her unexpected presence alongside knowing his own mother lusted for his death couldn’t have made things any better.

  The presence of Count Farris and Lord Thad had brought out an almost different man in Lucias. A warmer, kinder person had peeked out from beneath the cold shell and she had fallen. Enough so to save his life when his mother finally came to take it.

  The gentle rattle of a teacup balancing on its saucer drew Clara out of her musing. Thalia had left her seat and, by the trickling sound of liquid at her back, was pouring herself another cup.

  “Of course,” the woman said as she returned to her chair. “There was no doubt more to it than that, but if it was ever true, then it probably would’ve helped in justifying their reasoning for continuing.”

  If it was ever true. Clara eyed the woman. “Lucias said no one would believe we don’t already… know each other in that way.” The noblewomen Thalia had chased away were either unaware or refused to think it possible that the Great Lord could spend several months in his mistress’ presence and not lay with her.

  No one seemed to care if he chose to keep her as his mistress, for most of the Great Lords hadn’t married those who bore them their heirs. But to supposedly deflower her then wed her somehow became an invitation for scandalous accusations about her purity. Except for here.

  Clara bit her lip. Was that the real reason Lucias had chosen to marry her at Endlight? To avoid having her name be unduly tarnished?

  “You should’ve heard Thad when he found out. He’s very insistent on Lucias having a child as quickly as possible. But then, he was also curiously taken aback when Lucias declared his intention to marry you. He seemed to be of the opinion that you weren’t interested in such an arrangement.”