Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (3 page)

“Then I’ll send someone with tea and let you rest,” Ingram said, his voice nearing his position. “Have a lovely afternoon, Your Grace.”

When Darius heard the door close, he hurried away, continuing his search to learn more about the Lady Arden. The corridor split, and he turned right, doing so again when he reached the turn towards his destination. Darius had a little chuckle at his own expense at the lengths he was going to for a little bit of information, but he was extremely grateful the castle staff wasn’t currently traveling the corridors to witness it. When he was sure he found the right room, he slid aside the tiny panel covering the peephole into the room.

He jumped when he came directly under the gaze of two bright blue eyes. The lady was standing not two feet away, looking at whatever was on the other side of the wall. A quick glance around revealed the tops of books, which explained a good deal. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, he returned his attention to the reason he was there.

Were he any other man, he’d consider himself lucky to be engaged to someone so fair. Her heart-shaped face had a bone structure to rival any elf, and her lips parted in concentration as she scanned the titles, lending them a lovely ‘O’ shape. Dark hair framed her features in ornate looping braids draped alongside her cheeks, the rest left free to cascade around her shoulders and down her back. The rest of her was no less desirable, from what little he could see through the tiny hole in the wall, and at least the top portion of her green gown was exceedingly flattering to her moderate figure. The color reminded him of the forest in Banaril, dense with heavy rains and tropical foliage so thick it took three swings to cut through it for a single step. That particular memory made him wince, as it was there, huddled beneath a single tarp for shelter from the rain, that Naya first let down her guard enough for him to see her not only as a fine warrior, but as a woman as well.

Darius shook his head to clear it. As he ruminated, the lady wandered from his sight, off somewhere near a window. When the knock at the door came, he wandered further down the wall to get a better view of the situation.

One of the elven maids he knew from the castle entered bearing a tea tray, and they made their introductions. Somewhere behind him, a door shut, but he didn’t pay it much attention. The women were discussing the food, the Lady Arden remarking on the bounty presented, when the most curious thing happened.

“Then I wonder if you wouldn’t mind sharing all this with me. I’d like the company, and there’s more than enough here for us both.”

“You wish… with me, my lady?”

With absolute sincerity in her eyes, Lady Arden was offering her maid tea. Darius thought he’d seen nearly everything, but that? What did she stand to gain from it?

Before he got an answer to his question, light flooded his dark hideaway and he was yanked backwards by the ear into the room behind him. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, Duke Ingram stood before him, scowling so severely Darius worried his eyebrows might overtake his cheekbones.

“Have you lost all sense? You’ve resorted to spying on the poor girl in her private chamber rather than greet her on arrival? I know your manners have never been impeccable, but this is far worse than anything you’ve done in months.”

Darius rubbed at his sore ear. “But not worse than telling the Earl of Nardonne where to shove his treaty on—”

“Worse than that,” he interrupted. “I’m no fan of the earl or his policies. This young woman has done nothing to deserve such disrespect.”

“It seemed sensible at the time,” he grumbled. “How better to know a person than to see how they are when they believe no one’s there to witness their behavior?”

Ingram turned for the door, ushering him out of the guest room with an impatient huff. “Try that again, and I’ll resume the personal detail I put on you after it was decided to put you on the throne. I know how much you enjoyed having your every move under scrutiny.”

“That hardly seems fair,” he protested.

“Now you want to talk about fair? I fail to see how that’s any different from spying on the Lady Arden, as you were just doing.”

He was right, and Darius knew he was right, but rather than admit it he kept silent instead, pouting the entire way back to his office.

“We need to discuss your plans for after the wedding, Highness. Shall we?”

Despite it being the last thing he wanted to do, Darius relented and followed him inside. Perhaps after hours of that torture, meeting his fiancée for the first time wouldn’t seem so painful in comparison.

Chapter 3

Arden

“There. You look lovely,” her mother said as she secured the loose strand of hair with a pin. Her smile faded some when the necklace caught her eye, however. “Really, Arden, why do you insist on wearing that relic? There are plenty of other—”

Arden pulled away from her reaching fingers. “He’s already aware of our wealth, I’m sure. There’s no need for me to bathe myself in gemstones tonight.” She turned to the mirror and smoothed the skirt of her dress, straightening the finicky lace cuffs for the millionth time. “From what I’ve heard of the prince, he’s more likely to be curious about the rest of me. This is as good a place to start with that as any.”

Fingering the smooth, black stone, she traced the lines of the elven rune for “enduring.” The piece had been her great grandmother’s, gifted from an emissary of the Moth’hari tribe and buried in a long-forgotten jewelry box she discovered as a child. Fascinated, Arden held onto it, and it was the first elvish word Paitra ever taught her:
da’na’mene
.

Her mother sighed in exasperation, but dropped the matter, instead herding her out of the room and into the hall where their escort awaited them. A guard in shining gold armor to either side, they wound their way through the castle corridors and back to the first floor. Duke Ingram opted to use the smallest of three dining halls, reasoning it was a more intimate setting for the occasion. Arden thought “intimate” was a strange choice of words, given the entire Council of Chancellors would be present, not to mention staff and musicians for entertainment, but in comparison to what the engagement party would look like, she supposed the word was true enough.

They paused outside the double doors, allowing the guards to open them. The moment she stepped over the threshold, all eyes were on them, but it wasn’t the first time she’d been subjected to such things. The only reason she’d ever been able to stay calm in those situations was by repeating the family mantra over and over in her head.
Iron, steel, granite, gold. Iron, steel, granite, gold.

“Duchess Cora, and her daughter, Lady Arden, of House Tanarien!” the herald cried as they entered, and she fought not to jump at the sudden noise.

Chairs scraped across the floor as the nearly twenty guests stood, but she kept her chin up, gaze fixed firmly ahead. Two people stepped away from their seats at the head of the long table, and she held her breath. Duke Ingram approached with a man who could be only one person.

Tall and broad, with short, golden brown hair, Prince Darius was far more handsome than she’d thought he’d be. Others often spoke of the stray scars on his cheeks, but they were faded and added an air of danger to him she’d not expected to find so fascinating. He carried a quiet calm that wasn’t precisely hostile, but more melancholy than most noblemen she’d met. Even when he graced her with a small smile, the sadness remained.

“Duchess, Lady Arden, allow me to introduce His Royal Highness Crown Prince Darius of House Marillion,” Duke Ingram said with a bow.

She forced her eyes to the floor and curtsied beside her mother.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” the duchess said. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Your Grace.” His bow was brief, though not rudely so. “I’m glad to finally meet you. And we’ve not been waiting long at all.”

Arden’s stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice, so deep and rich. Still, she held her tongue, determined to keep her head and stay within protocols. Nothing was certain until wedding vows were said, after all, but she would’ve been a liar if she said she wasn’t already a little giddy about the prospect of being wed to such a man if everything else she heard was true.

When he looked at her, she couldn’t control the flush in her cheeks. His elbow extended towards her as an offer of escort to her seat, and she thought her heart might fly right out of her chest. “Shall we, my lady?”

She nodded and set her arm on his, fighting with every inch of herself not to giggle and grin like a fool, but her blush was impossible to fight. She’d never felt so silly in all her life as she did in the twenty steps before they reached her chair. As a man of twenty-five, he must’ve thought her a complete twit for all her nerves. Arden resolved to regain control of herself and correct that at the soonest possible opportunity.

The meal began in earnest then, with her mother beside Duke Ingram, Prince Darius beside him at the head of the table, and Arden to his right. The gentleman next to her, the Earl Bronton of Wynne, was the Chancellor of Foreign Relations, but she met him in passing at her debut two years earlier. It was only slightly awkward, as she learned he fancied her hand for his son, but the man was all smiles as he chatted away with her mother. The single interruption in their conversation about Maer was when the wine was poured, and that was only for the duchess to shoot Arden a glance encouraging temperance with the drink.

She held entire conversations with her mother in looks alone, and she’d memorized, categorized, and filed each one away in her head for future reference.

She didn’t need the warning about the wine, however. The taste didn’t suit her, but perhaps it was a thing one grew into. Even if she did care for it, she’d seen how those well into their cups fared in conversations, and that was not the kind of first impression she cared to give to Prince Darius.

It was odd, though. The prince had yet to say anything else to her by the time they brought out the soup. Either she disappointed him, he was as nervous as she was, or he simply wasn’t a talkative person. As he didn’t seem overly anxious, she hoped he was only a man of few words. She refused to work herself up about being hugely underwhelming. Determined not to step out of line, she cast an expectant look to Duke Ingram in hopes he might prompt her to speak and end her silent misery. She was sure if she could get the conversation started, she’d be able to put the prince at ease.

“And how do you find your rooms, my lady?” the duke asked, reading her intentions perfectly.

“They’re lovely, thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a smile. “The tray you had sent up had the most delicious tarts with it, and the tea is some of the best I’ve had in some time. We’ve not been able to get a Moth’hari blend for two years now, and I missed it more than I realized.”

“You could tell where the tea came from so specifically?” the duke asked, slightly surprised.

She nodded. “Of course, but only because it’s the one we had at the estate for ages. My handmaiden, Paitra, brought it with her when she first came to us, and I made sure we always had it on hand for her until…” She paused, unsure if she should mention the war at all. Would it be a sore subject? “Until the supply lines were disrupted.”

The duke hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, the war was difficult for many with the fighting down the center of the kingdom.”

“Difficult?” She blinked, a little confused. “I’d never complain about something as trivial as tea. That was the least of our concerns in Aerenhall. We put our lands to work triple time hoping to feed as many of the displaced as we could. So, while tea was nice to have, I was much happier to have filled all the bellies we could.”

The duke swallowed a spoonful of soup and looked to Prince Darius. “I think Ehlren could’ve learned a bit from her example, with all his complaints about ale as we traveled, don’t you, Highness?”

“Perhaps,” he said, his gaze firmly on his soup, “but it was better to complain about that than mortal wounds, I imagine.”

Seeing a small opening, she took it. “Ehlren? I’m unfamiliar with that name. Was he one of your companions during the war?”

When all she got in reply was a noncommittal grunt, she wasn’t entirely sure how to take it. The best she could do was stop gaping and think of something else to say. “Well, I’m sure your travels took you many places. I’d love to hear about them, Your Highness.”

He grimaced, but rather than reply, took a long drink of wine instead. Realizing that line of questioning wasn’t going to get her anywhere, she went back to the duke. “I’m looking forward to seeing the castle grounds come spring. Even from my window, I can see how lovely the gardens will be once the weather warms. Elena tells me they used to have a strawberry festival here every summer. It would be nice to see that tradition come back if possible.”

“You’re fond of strawberries, Lady Arden?” the duke asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, very. My strawberry preserves are some of the best you’ll ever…” She stopped again, knowing her mother would hate her admitting to actual kitchen work. “Well, I’ve been known to invade the kitchens when they’re in season, anyway.” She looked over at Prince Darius again. “Does His Highness like strawberries as well?”

He took a large gulp of soup, barely answering before shoving another in his mouth. “Well enough.”

“And what are your feelings on the strawberry festival?”

“None in particular.”

She got the distinct feeling the prince wanted to be anywhere other than talking with her, so she returned to her soup, slightly discouraged.

The next course arrived, along with similar results from conversation attempts. When the roasted venison and potatoes were served, it was a battle to keep her spirits up. Nothing she said provoked any meaningful statements from him, and most of his responses were a few words long at best. Rather than waste opportunities on idle prattle, she fiddled with the rune about her neck, hoping for a question from someone about it, if only to prove her mother wrong about her choice.

“That’s an interesting stone about your neck, Lady Arden,” Duke Ingram said, answering her silent prayers once again. “May I ask about it?”

She glanced down at it, feigning mild surprise at seeing herself holding it. “Oh, the rune? Of course you may. It was my great-grandmother’s, a gift from a Moth’hari emissary when she was young.”

The prince set his goblet down, his attention on her now. “Are you familiar with the symbol?”

The question was undoubtedly a test, but if he thought she’d fail, he was about to learn differently. “Quite familiar, Your Highness. I speak a bit of elvish, though I’m more fluent with the written form. This particular rune is the symbol for “enduring,” in reference to a saying they have.
Nos da’na’mene, sih dona eleru, mae tide da’na’me qieru petra lora
.”

The look in the prince’s eyes was so strange. She hadn’t the faintest idea what to think. She was about to translate the saying for their benefit, but he beat her to it. “For in enduring do we best learn living, for it is those who endure who walk the richest path.”

“I… yes,” she said, blinking at him in amazement. “Your Highness speaks elvish? Or is it the saying you’re familiar with?”

A tiny smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “A bit of both, my lady. The language came in handy from time to time.”

“I’d give nearly anything to see elvish lands for myself. Have you, by chance, been to the Ansere’th holdings at all? Of all the tribes I know about, it’s the one I’d like to see for myself the most.”

His face instantly fell, and she knew she made some horrible mistake, though she couldn’t have said what her misstep was.

“I have.”

Those were the last words he said before wishing her good evening.

Darius

Darius shoved a small glass of Hiruvean whiskey at Ingram the moment he entered the study. “Save your reprimands, I’ve already told myself everything you’re going to say.”

He sighed and knocked back the liquor in a single draught. “What demon possessed you tonight?” he growled. “Arden did everything short of begging you for simple conversation, and the best you could manage were grunts and scowls?”

He refilled his glass. “I’m aware of my poor performance, but thank you for the reinforcement of my own evaluation.”

Ingram took the opportunity to beg a refill for himself as well. “It could’ve been salvaged, you know, but you let a single word toss you into that abyss of self-loathing again. The mere mention of Naya’s tribe mustn’t have that effect on you. If you shut out anyone who dares mention anything related to her, you’ll soon find yourself completely alone.”

Darius wandered over to the window and looked out at the darkened courtyard. “It was her that taught me that saying, you know. Do you think Arden is aware of my history?”

Ingram snorted. “You think she caused you grief on purpose? I hardly think so. Arden is nothing if not considerate. Did you not see how pink her cheeks were when she laid eyes on you? The girl would likely rather throw herself to hungry wolves than hurt you purposely.”

“Perhaps,” Darius murmured, replaying the night in his head. “Everything she said was very calculated, however. Why not that as well?”

His glass clinked as he set it on the desk to pour another round. “Calculated to be as safe as possible, not to wound. She behaved mostly as any gentlewoman would at such an affair.”

“Mostly?”

Ingram chuckled. “She’s young yet. Did you not see her small slips over topics when her tongue got away from her? She’s no idea what she should or shouldn’t say to you, so she treads as lightly as possible.”

“I’ve no head for these subtle societal cues, Ingram. You know this.”

Not responding immediately, he instead wandered over, leaning on the opposite side of the window. “I do, but I think even you could see how hard she was trying tonight. Would you give her that much?”

Sighing, Darius relented. “I’ve grown very suspicious of people the last few years, the nobility in particular.”

“Then my word that Arden is very different from the type of nobility you’ve come to know means nothing to you?”

He scowled. “Your word is everything to me, but she acts as they all do around me. I’ve not survived as long as I have relying on the assurances of others.”

The wind gusted up, rattling the glass in the panes as Ingram spoke. “Does she act as the rest? You may need to look closer.”

“I don’t follow.”

He swirled the whiskey in his glass, admiring the amber-colored liquid for a moment. “How many nobles do you know that speak fluent elvish?”

He made a short list in his head. “Four that I’m aware of, but one is Imperium.”