Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1) (12 page)

Duke Ingram stood, extending a gentle hand towards me. “Dear, you’re very worked up about this. Perhaps you should—”

“What, Your Grace, change the subject? Give people I respect any less honesty than I would ask of them?”

He frowned. “I was going to suggest another cup of tea to calm yourself, but—”

“Tea?” She gaped. “You think tea is the answer here?”

The expression on his face reminded her far too much of how adults would look at her when she was six years old and upset about being denied a sweet before dinner. She hated his placating smile and all it implied. “My lady, you really shouldn’t get so worked up over a trivial matter like—”

Getting to her feet, her pent up frustration bubbled over beyond control. “Trivial? Trivial. Really? That’s your opinion of this whole mess? Oh, never mind it, dear. It’s only a marriage. Nothing to fret over. Nothing to see. Pish posh have some tea.”

His lips pinched together in a tight line. “I think that’s quite enough, Lady Arden.”

In a huff, she stood and marched toward the exit, Paitra and Elena scrambling after her. “You’re absolutely correct. If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, I’m at my limit of being told how I should feel about things for today. Do enjoy your tea, gentlemen.”

She would’ve slammed the door, but she was halfway down the hall before she thought of it.

Darius

“You what?” Ingram towered over him as Darius explained, head hung, what he said to Arden the night before. “Have you lost all sense?”

“She needed to know,” he said to the floor. “She asked me for honesty, and I promised I would give her that.”

Furious, Ingram stomped around the room, trying to control his anger. “You damned fool. As hard as I worked to find you someone who might… Why in the Fires of Ferelnor would you purposely try to ruin it? You won’t do better than Arden even if the damned daughter of Danumbar’s emperor wanted your idiot hand in marriage. I’ve known this girl her whole life, and I swear on all that’s sacred if you’ve caused irreparable damage—”

“I know, I know,” he said, frustrated at himself and at Ingram for telling him things he already knew. “Ehlren’s already pointed out how mind-bogglingly stupid I am. Threats are unnecessary. I’m doing the best I can, but you knew I didn’t want this, Ingram. I was bound to screw it up eventually. Might as well get the worst of it out of the way.”

“Tell me how you’re going to fix this.”

Darius stood and began his own pacing, walking the floor behind the couch. “I don’t know. If I had any idea how to make it up to her—”

“Why not start with planning your trip?” Vennic suggested as he draped an arm across the back of his chair.

He stopped pacing. “What trip?”

“The one she asked for. Your honeymoon. Take her to see things she’s never seen. It would at least show her you cared enough to remember what she wishes for.”

“Taking a young noblewoman who was raised in wealth on a journey like that?” Ingram stared at them as though Vennic suggested murder. “She’s hardly accustomed to that sort of traveling. It would be much too dangerous.”

Darius considered the idea. “Not really. The places she mentioned are perfectly safe. And if we take a company of soldiers, plus my sword—”

“And my bow,” Vennic added.

“That, too,” he said with a nod of thanks. “With all of that, she’d be very well protected.”

“I refuse to allow it.”

“You refuse to—” Dumbstruck, it was all he could do not to strangle him out of sheer annoyance. “Am I or am I not your Crown Prince?”

“You are.”

Darius took two steps toward him, trying to rein in his anger. “And will I or will I not be your king next week?”

He saw the two steps and raised him one more. “You will be, but I cannot stress how—”

Closing what little space remained between them, Darius stared him down, overtaking him by a good three inches or more. “Then, as your superior, I order you, so help me, Your Grace, you will stand down and you will keep your mouth shut. I’ve heeded your council in almost all things, but you will not press me any further when it comes to the woman I’m to marry. I’ll have you bound and gagged and thrown in a cell to keep you from preventing me in doing this. Do you understand?”

Ingram’s eyes narrowed as he met Darius’s heated stare, his shrewd politician’s mind turning over his words and weighing his threats. After a very tense moment, his shoulders relaxed, and he stepped back with a bow.

“As Your Highness commands, so shall it be.”

“And not a word of this to anyone, Ingram,” Darius growled at him. “Not her mother, not her handmaidens, and certainly not the lady herself. Only those who need to know, will, and at my discretion only. It will be a surprise for her— a gift. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.” He straightened and headed for the exit. “If His Highness has any further need of my poor advice, I’ll be in my office for the remainder of the day.”

As the door slammed, Darius winced. His temper had gotten the better of him, and he shouldn’t have spoken so harshly with the man.

The clink of glass pulled him out of thought, and he turned to see Ehlren pouring brandy into his goblet.

“Anyone else for tea?” He grinned before knocking back the drink.

Sighing, Darius sank into the chair behind the desk. “I think tea would be lovely. And best leave the bottle out.”

Chapter 12

Arden

“You need to relax. Everything will be fine,” Paitra said as she straightened Arden’s necklace and adjusted one of the braids pinned to the top of her head.

After the disastrous ending to the tea party a week before, Arden was utterly incapable of hiding her problems from her friends. She spent a pitiful hour crying on their shoulders about anything and everything, but mostly about Darius’s confession. Wonderful women that they were, they made excuses to her mother about her not feeling well enough to join her for dinner, and by the following morning she composed herself enough that it didn’t prompt any uncomfortable follow-up questions.

Despite her resolution to make the best of her situation, she avoided the prince the rest of the week, but that day she was faced with having to see him again.

“It isn’t only
his
coronation,” she said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her silver and blue flowered gown. “What if I fall over when I kneel to receive my tiara? It’s not every day a person becomes a princess, you know.”

Paitra chuckled a little. “You’ve practiced that a million times or more, Arden. You could do it in your sleep by now.”

Leaving the dressing room, Arden retreated to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s more than that.”

Paitra sat beside her, her pale locks brushing Arden’s shoulder. “I know it is.”

“It’s one step closer to my wedding day. Once I’m elevated to princess, all that’s left is the formalities of the ceremony. It’s just… it’s so final, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a while, Paitra’s hand holding hers in comforting solidarity. Having a friend like her handmaiden made everything in life more bearable.

“May I ask you a question?”

She sighed. “Of course you may.”

“Would you rather not have known?”

It was a question she considered often, but she’d yet to come up with an answer. “I don’t know, honestly. There’s a certain happiness that accompanies ignorance, but maybe it’s better to know. It’s hard to be disappointed when you have no expectations, or if you do, only poor ones.”

“Then perhaps this is the worst of it. Only up from here, maybe?”

“I suppose that’s possible, but you’ll pardon me for having my doubts.”

Paitra gave her a gentle hug before pulling her to her feet. “It’s hard to see any light in the darkness sometimes. It will get better.”

Grimacing, Arden let her guide her to the door. “Per him, I
am
the light, though I don’t really understand why.”

“You’ve always been able to see the best in people, Arden, though it’s hard to see that in yourself sometimes. He seems like a smart man. Perhaps what he sees is what you don’t?”

“I don’t feel very bright these days, Paitra. Like I’ve never been right about anything my entire life.”

The way her heart-shaped mouth curled up at the edges, just enough to plump the apples of her cheeks… That was her smile whenever she was tolerating Arden saying something stupid. Her viridian eyes sparkled as though she was laughing at her own secret joke, though it wasn’t meant as unkind. Paitra always looked that way when Arden was at her lowest, because she knew it never lasted long.

She desperately wanted to believe it wouldn’t last long. She needed to know the foggy malaise would lift, and she would find her feet again. For that moment, however, the path she should take was completely obscured. Living in uncertainty never sat well with her.

“Lady Arden?” A man’s voice accompanied a knock at the door. “It’s time.”

She gripped Paitra’s hand, sudden terror coming over her. “I can’t do this.”

She extracted herself and leveled a stern gaze at her charge. “You are the Lady Arden Tanarien. There is nothing you can’t do.”

Without allowing any time to argue, she opened the door, revealing four guards in gleaming suits of golden armor. Behind Arden in an instant, Paitra picked up the end of the long silver cloak before prodding her in the back to urge her forward. On shaky legs, Arden took her last steps out of her room as the mere daughter of a duke, wondering how it would feel to enter those chambers as a princess.

The walk down to the throne room flew by in a hazy dream, over before she could fully commit it to memory, but the intricately carved and gilded double doors, higher than three men were tall, she was sure she would see in her nightmares for years to come. There, a king dead for three centuries rose up on horseback, towering over not only the twisted monsters crushed at his feet, but her as well. His unblinking eyes bore into her, finding her unworthy to stand before him.

Inside, a trumpet fanfare sounded, and the doors opened inward, revealing a crowd of strange faces waiting to pass their own judgments. No herald proclaimed her entrance, and Arden only moved when the two front guards began the march forward.

Where the walk to the throne room seemed faster than a heartbeat, the procession to the front dragged by in endless torture. A thousand eyes peered at her from either side of the Marillion blue carpet down the center, and more from the stone balconies above. Arden avoided everyone’s stare, instead focusing on her efforts not to trip or vomit from sheer nerves. The throne loomed in the distance, up the creamy stone steps to the platform at the end. Milky white and gold blurred together in her vision as she said a silent prayer that she not faint until she was safely away. Skipping lunch had been a poor decision, but had she eaten she would have thrown up for sure.

At the base of the stairs, the ceremonial guards parted to either side, and Paitra released her cloak, leaving the remainder of the journey to Arden alone. What came next? She couldn’t remember a thing she’d been told.

Duke Ingram stepped out from beside the throne, a page bearing a blue satin pillow coming from the opposite side to meet him. The duke stopped dead center on the dais, looking out over the crowd.

“Lords and ladies, commoners and honored guests alike, today, we see the elevation of one amongst you who will help guide us on the path of restoring our great nation. With intelligence, kindness, and grace in all things, let her be an example to all of us. Let her be the hope we need in these trying times, our light as we fight back the darkness and repair what’s been broken. Today, let us lift not one, but two paragons above all.”

His gaze fell down to her and he extended his hand, beckoning her up the steps. “Lady Arden of the House Tanarien, daughter to Duke Magnus and Duchess Cora Tanarien, come forth.”

Iron, steel, granite, gold. Iron, steel, granite, gold.

Arden repeated the phrase silently to herself as she set one foot in front of the other, steadily making her way up the steps. Two from the top, he flashed her a brief hand signal to halt.

“Kneel, Lady Arden.”

Beyond the ability to do anything but what she was told, she took a knee, bowing her head. The weight of a diadem settled on her hair, the metal cold against her scalp.

“And rise, Her Royal Highness Princess Arden Neveiya Tanarien, promised to the crown and Light of Valentia.”

Taking his offered hand, as she was surely going to fall down the ten unforgiving steps in standing on her own, Arden rose and finished the ascent, taking the place of the page who had presented the tiara she wore. She looked out on the crowd, posture straight, chin high— but not too high— and the best possible smile she could manage without retching her breakfast onto the stairs.

She was a princess.

In a week, she’d be married.

And then, she’d be queen of Valentia.

Someday, she hoped it would all make sense.

Darius

Darius scratched at his shoulder for the millionth time, but it provided no relief from the itchy gold fibers of his tunic. How anyone ever managed to wear such things all the time and maintain their sanity was incomprehensible. Unbidden, he heard Ingram’s voice in his head, telling him to leave it be as he reached up to scratch his neck where the tight collar wrapped around the bottom of his throat. Strange that he could hear him when he’d been almost completely absent aside from the council meetings and event briefings of the last week. Likely Darius missed the constant nagging.

Despite his reluctance, coronation day was upon him, and he waited for the doors to the throne room to open with heavy resignation. When the cheer went up inside, he knew it was nearly time. Arden would have her new title, and it was only a matter of moments before he joined her.

At the sound of trumpets, the doors parted and his march amidst a company of twelve soldiers began. Their ceremonial armor made a terrible racket as they went, and it created an odd cadence ringing from the stone walls as the guards kept perfect pace with one another. Honestly, he envied them their suits. While it might’ve been noisy and not battle-worthy, he’d have been far more comfortable in that than the expensive and stiff fabrics he was forced to wear.

The procession stopped with a clanking halt at the base of the steps leading to the throne. Precisely on cue, the guards turned on their heels, facing out towards the walls, and took two steps before their about face. At a call to attention from Duke Ingram, the men unsheathed their swords, saluting and forming an arch of metal.

“As Regent of Valentia,” he began, “it fell to me to seek out the heir to the throne. When King Ledas perished three years ago, it seemed the entire nation might fall into chaos with a civil war on one hand, and the rising tide of darkness on the other. I never imagined to find the only surviving Marillion amidst the skilled agents of a shadow company, unaware the nation he fought for was rightfully his to command. Orphaned during an attack of Torn Ones, a babe was rescued and placed with other refugee children. Given nothing in life he did not have to fight for, the child grew to be one of the mightiest warriors this world has seen in generations. With wits and a mastery of combat tactics, he took charge of an army when our leaders fell at Orinda Valley. He has proven himself capable of guiding and inspiring all around him, making us all stronger, better for his presence. Today, he becomes a paragon not only for the blood in his veins, but the courage and tenacity of his spirit. Let us raise him up, that he may reforge our broken nation to wholeness once more!”

Another figure emerged from the side of the dais, bearing the crown of Valentia between her small hands. Arden was the picture of royal bearing, so sure of herself and of what she was capable. Darius envied her solid foundation. How much easier her life must’ve been in knowing what she wanted.

“Prince Darius Marillion, nephew of King Ledas Marillion, come forth!”

His focus on Arden, he held on to what she represented. Even with a million eyes upon him, her blue orbs pulled at him. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, it was a quality she exuded from every inch of herself, every word and movement. In her, he could see the things he might’ve been had his life been different. She saw the world in a way he never had: full of hope. As he halted near the top, he met her eyes, sending her an unspoken promise he wished she could hear.

For you, I will try.

“Kneel, Prince Darius.”

He took a knee and dropped his gaze to the floor. The crown met his head with the gentlest of touches, her fingertips brushing his ear when she pulled away. A sensation he never thought to feel again stirred inside him for the briefest of moments, then vanished as petals on a breeze.

“And rise, King Darius Adriel Marillion, ruler of Valentia and protector of its people!”

The applause was thunderous and immediate. He rose from the step to stand beside Ingram, but he could feel Arden’s presence behind him. How was she feeling in the midst of it all? A crown thrust upon her along with a man who didn’t love her… It was all he could do not to turn and offer her comfort. But what good would that do? His words held little value to her, of that he was sure.

Ingram cleared his throat, a slight tilt to his head indicating Darius should say something. In his preoccupation with Arden, he all but forgot what he prepared.

“I’m not much for speeches,” he began, taking a deep breath. “I’m a man of action. To me, failure to move forward has always meant certain death. It is in that way I intend to lead you, not to disregard our history, but to continue down paths laid by our ancestors in hopes that future generations will find a better way for all. Our actions define us more than our words, and it is with my actions that I intend to see Valentia made whole again. Still, I am but one man, and no matter how much power or strength any one man has, he is nothing without others beside him. Even in small ways, every one of us can do our part. So, I ask you now, not as your king, but as one of you, will you help clear the way forward? Will you stand united against those who would see us ground into dust before them? Will you join me in searching for peace, for solutions, for healing for every last soul within the bounds of our wounded country?”

The shouts of solidarity rang from the ceiling, guests raising their fists in shows of dedication. Vennic had been confident those words would push them to cheer, but Darius hadn’t expected such an overwhelming response.

He held up his hands, quieting them slowly until they were still once more. “Then I am with you, all of you. And I swear before the old gods and new, I will do everything within my power to see Valentia rise from the ashes of war. We go together, and together, we cannot fail.”

Their voices lifted again, accompanied by waves of applause that nearly shook the ground below him. Stunned, he couldn’t believe how so many could have so much faith in him. He looked to Ingram, as surprised to see admiration in his eyes as he was to hear the support from the guests. Heart hammering, he turned to Arden, nervous about what expression she would wear.

She searched his face, her lips slightly parted in uncertainty. But it was not disappointment he felt at her reaction. To him, it was a challenge. Words and deeds often conflicted. He would prove to her that he meant everything he said.

With a deep bow, he sealed his promise and offered her his arm. Whether or not she knew of his vow, she answered it with a curtsy of her own before resting her hand atop his, her touch as light as air. Her smile returned, but it was the one she wore as a mask.