Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (11 page)

When none of them replied, too busy gaping to form coherent sentences, she frowned and flicked the handkerchief again. “You’ll want to clean that, unless you’ve a mind to add another scar to your collection.”

“Clean what?” Darius said, shocked she was speaking to him at all.

She closed the distance between them and dabbed at his cheek, as gentle as a breeze. “You should be more careful. Duke Ingram would be upset if you showed up to your coronation without a head to put a crown on.”

When he reached up to stop her ministrations, she put the handkerchief into his palm and smiled, not missing a beat as she turned back to Ehlren. “I know tea might not be your preference, but I could send for wine as well, if you like. I’ve not had much experience with dwarves, to be honest, and I’d greatly enjoy speaking with you about your people if you’d indulge me.”

Ehlren cleared his throat with a blustery cough. “Yes, well, I’m not sure I’m the best dwarf for the job. I can be a bit—”

“While I’m sure you mean well, I’ve no qualms with coarse language or less than perfect manners, General. Honest candor is far preferable to dishonest niceties. If it worries you too much, perhaps Duke Ingram would join us.” She paused and turned back towards Darius, Vennic watching on. “Of course His Highness is welcome to join us, as are you Ven—, that is, Master Veyrun. I’d not separate friends who see so little of one another.”

Vennic grinned the way he always did when he saw an opportunity to rattle his friend. “That sounds lovely, my lady. Could we freshen up a bit first?”

Stars, Arden’s grin was as damnably mischievous as Vennic’s.

“Does two o’clock give you enough time to see His Highness patched up properly?”

Vennic chuckled. “I believe an hour is plenty of time, yes.”

“Wonderful,” she said, quite pleased with herself. “Then I’ll see you all in His Highness’s study at two.”

Darius opened his mouth to argue, but she turned away faster than he could speak, Vennic and Ehlren bowing at her exit.

When she was gone, a sudden slap to his back jolted him forward. “It would seem the Lady Arden refuses to give up so easily, kendala,” Vennic said, laughing.

“Oh, yes, it’s very funny.” He dabbed at the blood on his face, noting the faint hint of lavender on the handkerchief. “Do you think you might be able to contain yourself long enough to consider how horribly awkward this is for me?”

Ehlren sheathed his sword, as amused as Vennic. “I think he knows exactly how awkward it is. That’s what makes it funny. But what’s all this about dwarves? I don’t see what I’ve got to do with any of this sticky business.”

Darius sighed and propped an arm on his shoulder. “You’ve struck her fancy, friend. Giving her a shiny metal object was probably your first mistake, but the lady in question has a rather insatiable curiosity. You’ll likely be staying another night now that she’s got hold of you.”

He squirmed a little, but didn’t make nearly the fuss Darius expected. “So long as there’s wine to be had, I shouldn’t suffer too much, I think.”

Chapter 11

Arden

In stumbling across the fighting on the castle grounds, which turned out to be training, much to Paitra’s surprise, Arden decided to approach her fiancé predicament with a new tactic.

She spent almost two weeks trying to figure out what Darius wanted her to be. When she caught his eye, and he caught a sword to the face, she realized the person he wanted was not a person she
could
be. Naya already existed, and she could never be her, so it was stupid to consider trying. She could never be more than when she was herself, so that was what she resolved to be. There was nothing more “her” than creating situations that were seen as imprudent, but often served her well.

She had a plan. Even if it didn’t result in gaining a man who loved her, perhaps the kingdom would instead.

She explained to Duke Ingram what she arranged for the afternoon, and asked if he might join her so her mother wouldn’t worry as much. She had a meeting concerning Aerenhall matters anyway, so Arden doubted she’d even hear of her impromptu tea party until it was done. The duke was very receptive to her idea, and thought her proactivity towards her own cultural education was commendable.

The most difficult part of the whole situation would be in keeping herself focused on the discussion about dwarves, rather than her personal issues with Darius. She couldn’t allow herself to wallow, and she wouldn’t become one of those doting admirers who fawned all over the object of her affection any time he sneezed. If she was going to be a queen, she needed to act like one.

Even though she commandeered Prince Darius’s study for the occasion, she set about arranging everything with Paitra and Elena as though it was her own space being used. She had tea and wine both readily available, as well as platters of cold meats, cheese, and bread. In particular, she asked for a good amount of the red fruit tarts she had upon her arrival at Castle Dulaine. Chocolate was lovely, but those tarts were truly divine.

Shortly before two, the study door opened and Prince Darius entered, his retinue of friends in tow. He stopped three paces inside the door, however, staring stupidly at the spread she arranged.

Honestly, did he think she’d leave it to him? Men really could be very simple sometimes.

“I see you’ve been busy, Lady Arden,” Duke Ingram said as he stepped around the prince.

She curtsied a little. “Well, I thought since it was my idea, I wouldn’t make the rest of you work for it. Now, who wants what for refreshments?”

She passed out tea cups and wine goblets, filling them to preference, while Paitra and Elena helped assemble plates of the food. She hoped Darius didn’t mind that she rearranged the furniture a bit to allow them all to sit around the large table by the fireplace. When everyone was seated and their cups full, Paitra and Elena retreated to different corners of the room. Paitra sitting directly in Arden’s line of sight, she caught her eye as her gaze drifted over the top of her book. Arden saw through the ruse immediately, but was content to let her play at disinterest. Perhaps she’d have insight on the others to share later.

“I must admit, General, I was as much intrigued by your presence last night as I was by the gift you presented. Is it terrible of me to corner you this way? What little interaction the dwarves have had with Aerenhall was always very brief, and I was never allowed to be present for any talks. Given what’s coming for me, it seemed the smart thing to have at least some experience with the different people that live in Valentia. I might not be everyone’s ideal person, but I refuse to step back without giving it my best effort.”

She sipped her tea, hoping her comment hit its intended mark. Though she thought perhaps only Darius would catch it, Vennic immediately hid his face behind his tea cup, and Ehlren’s eyebrows shot up his forehead in a far less subtle reaction. She carried on as though nothing of consequence happened, however, content to let the gauntlet sit where she’d thrown it.

“What sort of questions did you have, Lady Arden?” Ehlren said after coughing and shifting in his seat across from her.

She took another sip of tea as she thought. Where did one start with learning about the entirety of a culture? “Perhaps I’ll begin with what I know. All dwarves live in underground colonies, correct?”

“Most, yes.”

“But not all?”

He shrugged. “There are a few that venture out, but they’re typically those without skills or titles, or the disgraced. Being forced to live outside our mountains is a more severe punishment than execution to a dwarf.”

“Where do they go?”

“Some take up trading between humans and dwarves, but more often than not they don’t survive long. Dwarves depend on one another, typically only mastering one skill and relying on others for the rest. If one fails, so do we all. That’s how we’ve survived so long underground.”

“That’s a very admirable way to live,” she said. “I believe the Prasta hold to a similar value, don’t they, Your Highness?”

Darius jerked, stirred from his trance. “Similar… ah, sort of. Dwarves are free to choose their paths within certain constraints, but the Prasta are given roles at birth. If you deny your role, it’s a denial of life, and the Prasta have no tolerance for it. For dwarves it may mean banishment, but for the Prasta, it means certain death.”

Arden shivered. “Well, I’m certainly not one to question their way of life, but I can’t say I like that idea much.” Turning back to Ehlren, she continued her questioning. “Is it a matter of survival skills, then? Is that why dwarves don’t live outside of the mountains?”

He wobbled his hand from side to side. “Yes and no. Dwarven skin is unaccustomed to sunlight, and most often we succumb to
kaffa
, light poisoning. It takes time for us to adjust to the outside world.”

“But you have, it would seem.”

“Out of necessity, yes. It makes me particularly helpful as an emissary, which is a down side if you ask me. Too much pomp and posturing for my tastes.”

“How long did it take you to acclimate?”

He scrunched up his face and looked to the prince. “What would you say, two months or so?”

“Seems about right,” Darius said. “Though even then, after six hours in daylight, you would still vomit your brains out. Half a year and it didn’t bother you anymore.”

Blinking, she stared at him. “You were there for his… adaptation?”

Ehlren snorted. “There? If not for Darius, I’d have shriveled up like a skullwart in screesalt my first day out. He found me wandering the woods outside Brazrhen. He thought I might be useful, so he got me through it.”

She stared at Darius, surprised by the story. “You did that for a stranger?”

Vennic chuckled quietly.

“I’m not so inhumane that I’d leave a man to die like that,” Darius grumbled as he crossed his arms.

“Wasn’t that around the time you were hired to infiltrate the Brazrhen yar’s private vault to steal the Serpent’s Crown?” Vennic said.

Darius glared at him. “Perhaps I saw an opportunity with Ehlren, but that wasn’t my sole purpose for saving him.”

“Ah, right. I forgot you ended up passing that job to Horai. Wasn’t he torn apart by swarming krazaki beetles as a result?”

“Hardly my fault. I warned him about that pit. Horai was a backstabbing
gribthari
anyway. He tried to have me killed four times in five years, you remember.”

Arden watched them bicker back and forth like a couple married for twenty years. After several minutes, she couldn’t contain it any longer and succumbed to quiet laughter as they went on to level accusations of idiocy over at least ten different jobs or missions they’d done together. It was probably very impolite of her to interrupt, but she couldn’t help herself.

The moment they realized she was laughing they immediately stopped talking. She grinned at Ehlren. “Is this how they always are? If so, I should’ve done this much sooner.”

“I think Duchess Tanarien would have something to say about that.” Duke Ingram’s disapproval was quite clear, and she squelched her amusement.

“Yes, well, to get back on topic, I wonder, General, would you tell me about your home? I’ve read a bit about dwarven architecture, but never seen it for myself. Is it as impressive as the books make it out to be? I can’t imagine actually seeing such wonders if it’s true.”

Ehlren puffed out his chest a bit. “Books and drawings cannot do it justice, Lady Arden. Our cities are built inside great caverns, deep in the hearts of mountains with ceilings higher than you can see without a spyglass. Every opening is meticulously carved in a specially designed arch, calculated to the exact right amount of support within a pebble’s weight. They’ve withstood earthquakes and centuries of tunneling below. The few that have fallen only did so after millennia of existence, usually caused by the Void disruptions once every age.”

“Like Dhagba?” she interrupted.

He nodded. “You know a bit of the history behind your gift, it seems.”

On the edge of her seat with excitement, Arden was giddy to speak about something she knew a little of. “Of course. I knew the instant I laid eyes on the dagger what importance it held. Nothing shines like Gordian metal. It bends the light in ways others don’t. I’ve only read about it, but I knew it couldn’t be anything else the moment I saw it. Has there been any further progress in replicating the creation of such items?”

“Sadly, no,” Ehlren said. “Though especially during this past war, interest was renewed. It’s uncertain if the material was specific to Dhagba, or an alloy of some kind. Exploratory parties have gone to those ruins in the past, but most never return. Those that do are… changed.”

“Changed? How so?”

“He’s referring to the madness caused by prolonged exposure to places tainted by tears in the Danahoi,” Darius explained. “Dhagba’s destruction didn’t end that particular invasion from the darkness so much as it simply collapsed and ceased to be accessible. That war was won in the valley outside the mountain, but there were rumors the tear was never completely sealed.”

“So…” She frowned, trying to puzzle it out. “Is it possible Torn Ones still come through there, into our world?”

Vennic hummed thoughtfully. “Possible, but not likely. The entire interior of the mountain collapsed, shortening the peak by two miles or more. Without years of armies working to dig it out, there’s no way in, and no way for them to leave.”

“But if there are exploratory parties sent there, surely there’s at least one way.”

Ehlren grimaced. “The last party sent included Ogtern’s previous yar’s son, Aniff. He returned ranting about horrors and deeds done in the name of survival that turned the stomachs of the most hardened dwarven warriors. After that, Yar Berza ordered the only potential path closed, going so far as to blow it up with massive amounts of explosive potions. If it wasn’t impassable before, it most certainly is now.”

Disappointed to hear about the loss, she deflated a little. “And I suppose there aren’t enough Gordian weapons left to analyze them properly. Even broken ones must be very valuable and impossible to get hold of.”

“Broken ones?” Ehlren’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “What good would those be?”

Arden shrugged. “Do they not work once broken?”

“They aren’t very useful as weapons once broken.”

Baffled, she stared at him. “But don’t you reuse materials at all?”

“Not those. Even if you smelt it, it turns into unusable garbage. There are broken Gordian swords and such on display in some homes, but most get relegated to the vault of a yar whenever they’re found.”

“But no one tests the broken pieces at all?” She couldn’t believe what he was telling her. If those remnants were of no value, perhaps there was a small chance she could get hold of them herself.

“Our smiths have, but with little result. The pieces don’t look the way whole weapons do, with the reflecting of light.”

Arden sat back and scratched a fingernail across her lips, thinking. “Perhaps it’s an enchantment then?”

“Dwarves have no magical abilities, but some study the theories,” Ehlren explained. “Only enough for us to understand certain things, but I’ve never heard of a dwarf mage, no. Gordia could have recruited the help of one, but that’s unlikely. Even now, dwarves aren’t keen to seek outside help.”

Paitra caught her eye, her silent urging enough for Arden to push for her request. “I was wondering, that is, if it won’t be a terrible lot of trouble, would there be any way at all for me to have a few pieces of those broken weapons? Not that I want to do any disrespect to your people and their smiths, but I’m quite well versed in the metallurgic arts.”

“You think you might be able to add some insight on their creation?” Darius asked.

“Perhaps.” While she couldn’t promise anything, there wasn’t any reason not to try. “And anything I learned I’d happily share with the dwarves, of course.”

Ehlren hemmed and hawed about it for a while before giving his answer. “Well, I can’t really speak for the yar in this case. Ogtern may not be open to such dealings. If you were pleading your case to him personally, he might be more inclined, but—”

“Would I be welcome to make such a petition?” She sat up straight in her seat, instantly energized by such a prospect. To meet the yar of a dwarven city would be unparalleled to anything else she’d experienced.

“The yar doesn’t leave the mountain, Lady Arden,” Vennic said gently, trying to stem her disappointment.

The wheels in her head spun faster than she consciously recognized, and she was speaking before she thought her idea through. “As far as I know, no solid plans have been made for my… that is… our honeymoon. Why not a trip to visit things I’ve never seen before? A dwarven city, perhaps an elven settlement, the monuments of Galanor Ridge, the giant forests of Tralana…” Her words stopped as she took in the slackened jaws of everyone around her. “Have I said something wrong?”

Vennic looked annoyed, eyeing Darius with displeasure. “No, my lady, it’s just…”

“No one imagined you wanted a honeymoon,” Ehlren muttered quietly.

Arden sighed, frustrated. “Of course you would all act that way.” The gawking and gaping and stepping around the subject was too grating for her to ignore any longer. “This wedding lurks in every room like a specter. I’m really very tired of no one but my mother speaking of it, and if they do,” she shot a peeved glare at Darius, “it’s only to warn me about all the bad that may come of it. Yes, I’ve noticed. And yes, I’m aware of his…” she waved at Darius, “situation. I’m trying to make the best of it, but I could use a little help.”