Tempered Hearts (Hearts of Valentia Book 1)

Copyright © 2016, Starla Huchton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblence to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1535302012

ISBN-10: 1535302011

Cover design by Starla Huchton, SH Productions, LLC

Edited by: Jennifer Melzer

Interior Layout: Scott Huchton

All rights reserved.

To Jennifer,

For your forever-enabling, constant encouragement.

May the Dread Wolf always hear your steps.

Chapter 1

Arden

“Ask me again about the houses that fought at Orinda Valley.” She twisted the edge of her cloak into a knot even tighter than the one in her stomach.

The carriage hit a rock, jostling them to and fro, and her mother resumed her tedious sighing. “We’ve been over them a thousand times, Arden. You can recite them forward and backward from memory. You need to calm yourself. If you don’t, you’ll faint the moment we arrive. Tumbling out of the carriage unconscious is almost the worst first impression you could make.”

She watched as her mother smoothed a stray hair back into the curls rolled along the side of her head, envying how she could be so serene. “Was it like this for you when you met Father the first time? I’m so nervous I might be sick.”

She fixed Arden with a stern look. “Of course I was nervous, but you’re far more worried than you should be. Back then, my house was of higher ranking. The sort of horrid things they whispered about me, you’ve none of that to deal with. You’re marrying up. You need to act like the lady you are and the queen you will be.” Her lips drew into a tight line of disapproval. “Oh, do stop abusing that fabric, Arden. You’ll tear the seams.”

She’d imagined that day since her eighteenth birthday, when her father announced the betrothal as her gift. Every night, Arden fell asleep thinking about how it would feel to finally meet the man she was going to marry. Being in the moment was far, far different than she ever expected. What was she thinking, being so blindly happy to be promised to a stranger? There was no sense in it. No matter how many times people assured her of how handsome and heroic Crown Prince Darius was, being minutes away from meeting him face to face for the first time was absolutely terrifying.

All the questions she discarded as utter hogwash exploded in her brain as she caught the first glimpse of the castle spires. What if they called him handsome because his crown made him so? What if he was only brave because he had armies at his command? What if he wasn’t as well-read as her parents assured her he was? Could she stand to spend her life with a person she could never hold a conversation with?

One question weaseled its way into her thoughts and sent her panic to a new level.

What if he doesn’t like me?

All of the ways she could potentially disappoint him made her heart race even faster. If the prince was everything everyone said of him, what if she wasn’t pretty enough after all? What if she hadn’t read the right books and he thought her stupid? What if she forgot the name of the Earl of Grinaire and called him Lord Grabney instead? To be less than beautiful she could live with, but to be thought a moron… she’d rather die.

The carriage jerked to a halt, taking her stomach with it. They’d arrived? How did she miss passing through the gates? She wasn’t ready. There was no way she could go through with it. Maybe if she stayed inside the carriage, no one would notice…

The door opened, and a footman extended his hand to her mother. With one last look of reprimand, she exited with the same flawless grace she always had. Once she was out, the man reappeared for Arden.

“Iron, steel, granite, gold. Iron, steel, granite, gold,” she whispered under her breath, hoping the reminder would give her the confidence she needed to take those first steps. The Tanarien family wealth was made from some of the strongest and most valuable materials in the world. She had to hold on to that much, at least, and act as if she were made of such things.

She tugged at the edges of her dark violet gloves and set her fingers against the offered palm. Hefting herself and her skirts out of the seat, she emerged into the crisp late-winter air to take her first breath at her new home. Her eyes lifted from the dirt at her feet, up the creamy stone parapets of the castle, stopping only when she reached the tip of the tallest tower she’d ever seen. Castle Dulaine was as intimidating as it was beautiful. Even without the greenery of spring’s leaves and grass to soften it, it was an amazing sight to behold. She could scarcely imagine how glorious it would be when the weather warmed.

Her attention was pulled from the cerulean flags whipping in the wind when movement on the steps caught her eye. The footman slipped away as she withdrew her hand, and she remembered her posture. Shoulders back, don’t smile too much, speak only after being addressed. If she stuck to the rules drilled into her since birth, she might make it through the day in one piece.

Duke Ingram of Carrel descended the stairs with a page and two knights in tow. She was torn between relief and disappointment that it was his silvery head and billowing maroon cloak that greeted them, and not her husband-to-be; relief in that she had a small respite to firm up her nerves, but disappointment that she apparently wasn’t important enough to be greeted by her betrothed in person.

“Duchess Tanarien,” Duke Ingram said, a broad smile on his face, “it’s a pleasure to finally have you here.” He stopped five paces away and bowed low. “I hope the journey wasn’t too taxing?”

Her mother dismissed it with a gentle laugh and wave of her hand. “The journey was long, but well worth it to see a friendly face.” She dipped a curtsy, and Arden followed suit. “And such a happy occasion to travel, at that. How are you, my dear Duke?”

Duke Ingram took her mother’s hand, brushing a light kiss of greeting across her knuckles. “I’m very well, thank you.” At last, he turned to her, his smile growing even wider. “And this must be the Lady Arden.”

She dipped another curtsy as he took her fingers, bestowing the same kiss upon them as he had her mother’s. “It’s been a very long time, Your Grace. I’m glad to see you looking so well.”

He chuckled. “A long time indeed, my lady. I believe the last time was more than four years ago. You’ve grown up before I could blink.”

She hid her smile behind her hand, looking away. “Not so grown as I don’t still have a fondness for Carrelian toffee.”

He barked a laugh so loud it nearly sent her into a fit of giggles. If anyone in the world could have met her at the steps, she was glad it was him. Arden had very warm memories of Duke Ingram, as he had always been kind to her. It was nice to know he sat at the right hand of the Valentian throne, as it was some assurance of the crown prince’s character.

They started forward up the stairs, her mother on the duke’s arm, the two of them chatting away like the old friends they were.

“I do apologize that it’s only my poor company to meet you,” the duke said, “but Prince Darius has been horrifically busy these past few months.”

“Don’t worry over it one bit,” her mother said. “After all, the war’s barely ended, and to have a throne thrust upon him immediately following the final battle…” She clucked her tongue. “Heavens, no. It’s not our desire to cause him more trouble.”

“He desperately wanted to be here, of course. There’s simply so much to do with the rebuilding, the coronation, and now a wedding on top of it, the man can’t get five minutes without a crisis cropping up.”

“Oh, dear. If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know. My husband might be seeing to that business in Maer, but the Tanarien family resources are as much mine to pledge should you have need.”

From the corner of Arden’s eye, a shadow stirred in a window of an upper floor, and she paused to look more closely. Was someone there, watching her entrance? Likely any number of people were, given the reason for her arrival. The scrutiny was unnerving, though not unexpected. Still, to outright catch someone at it…

“A very generous offer,” the duke said as he reached the top step. “Perhaps you could see to some of the wedding details, then?”

“I think we could handle that. Don’t you, Arden, dear?”

She jumped at the sound of her name and joined them at the top. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course, Your Grace.”

Duke Ingram smiled pleasantly. “Then I’ll be sure to introduce you to Madame LeVallier, the Chancellor of Letters. She can better tell you where we are with preparations. But first, let’s see you settled, shall we?”

The Duke escorted them through the castle, from its grand entrance with crystal chandeliers and ceilings twice as high as any of the Tanarien estate, to the plush carpeted hallways of the interior. Everywhere Arden looked was draped or accented with the royal blue of House Marillion, always accompanied by cream-colored stone and wood dark as burnt toast. Gilded frames housed every painting. Gold threads were woven in every tapestry. Everything glinted and gleamed as though the entirety of the palace had been recently polished.

It was warm, but it wasn’t home.

There were no nicks in the floors where she carelessly dropped things as a child. There were no reminders of her clumsy days of bumping into sculptures when she was practicing her twirls in the halls. The servants all smiled politely, but they were strangers greeting their soon-to-be mistress, not folk who watched over her since she was little.

She did try to attend the conversation, despite the distractions of her new surroundings and slight homesickness, but neither her mother nor the duke paid her any mind. And all through the tour, she couldn’t help her feelings of being watched at every turn. Perhaps it was only her imagination, or maybe it was the staff thinking to spy on her to learn her character. The feeling persisted until they reached her room.

“Your things will have been brought up by now,” the duke said when they stopped. “You must be tired from your journey, so perhaps you’d both enjoy a rest this afternoon.”

“That’s very kind of you, Your Grace, thank you,” Arden said.

“Dinner isn’t until six o’clock,” he said. “Shall I have refreshments sent up?”

She smiled, grateful to be given a moment of peace to collect herself. “Yes, please.”

He stepped aside to grant her passage. “Your mother will be the next door down on the left. If you require anything else,” he pointed to a blue cord by the door, “ring the bell and it will be seen to.”

After taking a few steps inside, she turned to him. “Thank you, again, Your Grace. You’ve been most welcoming.”

With a last nod, he closed the door, leaving her alone in the sudden, deafening silence.

Darius

He’d been a wreck for a week.

No matter what assurances Ingram gave him, Darius couldn’t shake the feeling of impending disaster.

He’d faced down maddened mages, twisted, shadowy beasts corrupted by darkness, even hordes of undead elves summoned by the vilest demons imaginable, but none of it came close to his terror over an arranged marriage.

After battling his way from disposable mercenary to legendary war hero, one would think he could face nearly anything without breaking a sweat. The problem lay in that he’d not done a thing with himself until he met
her
. With her gone, he didn’t know if he could be the person the world demanded he be.

Not only a hero, a king. Noble. Wise. Patient. Political.

If he had ever been those things, it was only because Naya brought them out in him.

But she was gone, and he was the one who sent her away. His first royal act was to cut out his heart for the sake of the kingdom.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Ingram said, scowling over the top edge of his parchment. “The masons would be hard-pressed to repair it.”

Darius stopped and faced the window, frowning at his reflection in the glass. While the blue of his house colors suited him well, he was not at all accustomed to the fine clothes that went with his new station. He missed his leather armor and rough tunics. “What could I possibly have in common with this girl? This is a horrible idea. What will we even talk about?”

Ingram placed the papers on the desk with the weary sigh Darius had heard far too many times in his two years of knowing him. “Lady Arden is well-versed in all manner of subjects. Her interests range from elven genealogy to economics to… I believe she has a rock collection.”

He grimaced and turned to him, crossing his arms. “A rock collection? Who the devil collects rocks? Could there be a more boring hobby?”

“Her interest is in the scientific sense of it, rather than the superficial gemstone sort. I promise I gave the matter the utmost consideration before deciding on her recommendation.”

“Recommendation?” Darius gaped at him. “You all but signed my name on the contract. It isn’t as though you presented me with many options.”

Ingram shuffled the papers into a neat stack and set them aside. “You and I both know that even had I presented you with a ballroom filled with potential brides, none of them would’ve met your standards, but not through any fault of their own. The quickest way to ensure your own misery for the rest of your life is to discount every woman simply because she isn’t Naya An’drufeil. I’m tired of this argument, Darius.”

“I’m not discounting—”

“You are,” he said, his tone sharper than he’d heard since the war, stunning Darius a little. “Arden is a wonderful young woman whom I’ve known for years. Her family is of perfect standing, with money the treasury sorely needs for rebuilding, and she’s one of the kindest maidens I know. If you want the kingdom to stabilize, you need to take a wife, and quickly, aligning with a house that will ensure the others fall in line. I’d remind you of that nasty business of succession not six months past that—”

Darius waved him off. “Yes, yes, I remember well enough, not that you’ll let me forget how I nearly lost my head to that mess. I understand all the reasons to marry, Ingram, but why this soon? The coronation isn’t even until the end of the month.”

“Yes, and your wedding will follow shortly thereafter.” He picked up his papers again and started writing where he left off. “Guests will stay for both, and then we can get on with the business of rebuilding the kingdom.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t the first clue what I’ll even talk about with this girl.” He threw his hands up and resumed pacing. “It’s not as though we have any similar experiences. Unless she grew up in an orphanage as well?”

“She did not,” Ingram said. “But what does that matter? If it bothers you that much, don’t talk to her at all. Last I knew, producing an heir didn’t require a lot of conversation.”