The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (12 page)

“The boys will be home soon,” Arianwen said. “We planned a simple meal, but as always, you are welcome in our home.”

“Anything you provide, Arianwen, will be welcome. Perhaps your cooking will induce my bride to eat more than a handful.” Vlad patted Clara’s arm, leading her into the modest home as he followed Arianwen inside.

“Ah.” Arianwen chuckled. “You’re one with dietary customs, are you?” She paused at the door, looking at Clara. “You are tiny, but I’m sure your husband will soon fix that. We brides all have some quirks when we arrive here. As per my people’s warrior customs, I had no hair and lines drawn all over my face. It took me months to agree to wear so many clothes.” She glanced down at her long skirt. “We assimilate. Now I love sewing. I can’t even imagine following in my ancestor’s Malkyrie past.” Then, pointedly to Vlad, she added, “But I still throw a knife straighter than my husband.”

Clara found herself intrigued by the thought of a woman warrior. She’d heard of such races but had never been allowed to meet a descendent of one.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Arianwen waved her hand as if it were of no concern. She led the way inside.

The commoner’s home was not what Clara expected. Her parents always spoke as if the non-titled were somehow dirty. Arianwen’s home, though packed full of items, was very organized and clean. The miniature rooms were filled with furniture. A drawing hung on the wall. She didn’t recognize the beast it depicted, but it looked fierce. Material had been tucked over the couches and left to drape along the sides, which centered on a small fireplace in the wall. The only dirt she detected was on a pair of boots near the front door. They were caked with dried mud and set aside in a bin.

“Vlad, make yourself useful. Bring in firewood for me.” The woman gestured that Clara should follow her. “My lady, please, this way.”

Clara watched, surprised that her husband obeyed the woman’s command. When they were alone in a narrow hall, Arianwen looked over Clara’s face. “I’ll draw you a bath first, so you can clean up.”

Clara attempted another smile, but Arianwen turned before she could form it. The woman pushed open a door. Inside, a large square had been cut into the floor. Water bubbled inside it and steam curled into a vent.

“The water renews itself,” Arianwen explained. “There are natural springs around here that we tap into. The minerals keep the water clean and there are underground filters installed beneath the town. I would not recommend swallowing the water. Many do not like the taste.”

Clara nodded. Her eyes traveled along the smooth walls to a counter inset into the wall. The stone looked as if it had been plucked from the ground outside and carved to fit the home.

“If you give me that gown, I can repair it for you. I imagine you are very upset by the damage.” Arianwen tugged at the tie hanging at Clara’s waist to loosen it more.

“Yes,” Clara said. “Very much so.”

“Understandable. Many women feel sentimental about their wedding gowns.”

It wasn’t exactly what Clara had meant, but she did not correct the woman. It seemed rude to point out she had thought more about her embarrassing lack of propriety rather than the gown’s emotional value. On her world, they put more value on the actual cost of the gown than any other attachment to it.

This isn’t my world,
she reminded herself. Not that she needed the reminder.

“Vlad was very anxious when he asked me to sew this for him. I’m glad you are attached to it.”

Clara felt instantly bad for not complimenting the garment. “It is very well constructed. The seams appear to be very sturdy.”

Arianwen paused for a few quiet seconds before nodding. “Thank you for noticing.” She began tugging at the laces to help Clara disrobe.

Without thought, Clara allowed the woman to assist. She lifted her arms so Arianwen could pull the material over her head. Arianwen tossed the gown over her shoulder to carry it while freeing her hands. Loosening her boot laces took a bit longer, but once Arianwen started helping, she didn’t stop. She attended her task with an admirable concentration and sense of purpose.

Clara let her remove the first boot and start on the second. “I require a handmaid to work for me at the castle. There will be retraining, of course, but I would like to honor you with a place in—”

“Ah!” Arianwen let loose a high-pitched gasp as she stopped tugging at the second boot’s laces. “What did he allow to happen to…?” Her voice trailed off before she yelled in anger, “Vladan!”

Clara jolted in shock at the loud noise. She glanced down her body to where Arianwen had been looking. A large dark bruise formed down her side and hip around a swollen patch of flesh. Angry red scrapes only added to the injury. It hurt to move her leg, but she’d been managing. By propriety, Arianwen should have ignored it.

The woman took the gown with her, leaving Clara to stand naked in the room with one boot on. She crossed her arms before her chest and frowned. When Arianwen didn’t immediately return, Clara pulled the remaining laces with her little fingers and managed to get the footwear off herself. With the pressure of the boot gone, her leg began to throb. She did her best to ignore it.

Glancing to the bath, she hesitantly touched the water with her toe. Instant warmth curled up her leg. Gingerly, she stepped down into the bath, easing in slowly to protect her injured hip. The process of stepping down hurt and she bit the tip of her tongue.

“…medic immediately!” Arianwen yelled from another part of the house. Clara turned to the door. She winced as she brought another foot into the bath.

“What are you yelling about?” Vlad asked. He stumbled into the entryway, as if pushed. Stopping, his eyes instantly went to his naked wife, half in the tub. A grin spread over his face. “Never mind the yelling, Ari, I’ll do my duty by my wife with little badgering. Be gone, woman, leave me to it.”

“You call that duty?” Arianwen demanded. She stormed into the room. Clara quickly tried to cover herself, discomfited by the quickly filling space. Her husband stared at her chest. An angry Arianwen pointed at Clara’s injuries. “You call that doing your duty?”

“What?” Vladan’s expression fell as he followed Arianwen’s gesture. He pushed his way into the bathwater, unmindful that he was dressed. “Clara, what happened? Why didn’t you say?”

Clara sunk down into the water to hide.

“Leave us, Ari. Find a handheld medic unit,” Vlad ordered.

“There’s only one in the village. I’m not sure who has it. I’ll ask around.” Arianwen seemed more docile now, at least in the volume of her tone. She closed the door and her footsteps could be heard rushing from the home.

“Clara? Did this happen when you fell?” He kneeled into the water, not bothering to remove his clothing. Vlad urged her to stand, nearly yanking her to her feet when she tried to remain in the water. “Why didn’t you say?”

“You did not ask.”

“I did. When you fell. You said you were fine. This is not fine.” He touched the injury lightly. She jerked away from him as a reflex.

“I am a lady. I cannot complain in front of others. You did not inquire again in private so it was not my place to put my burden on you without your invitation to do so.”

“Taking care of my injured wife is not a burden,” he scolded. “You should have told me you needed medical attention.”

“I managed without it.” The more worked up everyone else became, the more she found herself withdrawing into the comfort of stoicism.

“Suffered without it seems the more correct phrasing.”

“The accident was not of my doing. I did not order the boys to attack.” Clara tensed, instantly wishing she could take the angry words back.

“They were playing and meant no harm.” Vlad again touched her hip before drawing his fingers away. “We’ll fix this with the medic unit. Next time you’re injured, tell me immediately. None of this
I’m a lady
nonsense. If you’re hurt, I need to know.”

Clara didn’t like the look on his face or the censure in his voice. Nonsense? She turned her head down. “As you wish, my lord husband. Always as you wish.”

* * *

Vlad stared in frustration at his wife. She refused to look at him and he didn’t want to look at anything else. The bruise on her hip was bad. He’d been injured in battle before and knew the pain she must be in. Luckily, it didn’t appear as if anything was broken. Since she was so thin, it was easy to determine her bone structure.

The water adhered his clothes to his body but he didn’t care. Clara kept her eyes away and her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t move except for the slight rise and fall of her breathing. It felt like a long time before Arianwen returned to the home. The woman’s steps were abnormally loud, as if giving him warning that she was coming. When she entered the bathroom, she carried an older handheld medic. Their kind rarely needed the equipment, but he made a mental note to requisition a newer model for the village. The mining office was well equipped. There was no reason the village shouldn’t be as well.

“I need that firewood,” Arianwen said. “The wind hitting the waterfall is coming our way. It feels as if this is going to be a cool night. I can attend Lady Clara.”

Vlad nodded and slowly got out of the water. Clara still didn’t move. Her face was calm, her breath even. Any reaction he wanted to have seemed silly next to her stoicism. He nodded his thanks to Arianwen as he left the room.

“Don’t track water all over my house,” Arianwen warned. “You know where to find a change of clothes.”

Chapter Eight

Vlad’s words stung even hours after his saying them. Being a lady was not nonsense. It was all she had on this alien world. It is all she’d ever been trained to be. To have him dismiss it hurt worse than her injured hip. The medic unit fixed up her bruised skin quite nicely, but there was no medical setting to cure her bruised feelings.

One day. That is all she’d been there. One day.

A year had never felt so long.

She refused to join Arianwen and her family to dine, pleading fatigue. The men came back from the mines. From what she could hear, there were three of them. They were loud and boisterous and greeted Vlad like a brother. Questions were asked about her, but she didn’t hear Vlad’s answers.

The small room resembled the rest of the house—tidy and cluttered. Trunks lined the wall, some stacked as tall as three high. A strange statue, humanesque in design but lacking anatomical features, stood guard in the corner. Someone had stabbed it with long, thin metal spikes. The bed in the marriage tent was bigger than the one she now sat on, though the comforter was innately stitched with tiny birds and flowers.

Arianwen had given her a gown. The blue material was soft and the stitches even, but it resembled her new home world. Nothing was familiar.

Clara felt isolated and alone. Each time a shout of laughter filtered in from the other room to break her silence the feelings only became worse. Nothing on this planet made sense. Here she was a noblewoman, married to a nobleman who did not act noble. If she hadn’t been assured by the king that Vlad was titled, she would never have believed it.

Pinching the edge of the blanket, she rolled onto the bed and wrapped it around her body. If she closed her eyes, maybe it would all just go away.

* * *

Vlad grinned at the men who were like brothers to him. They had grown up together in this very village, playing outside the mines. Only, as the three brothers Sven, Matus, Nolan went to work in the mines with their father, Tomos, Vlad had been sent to manage them as their overlord. The brothers looked like their father, all strong dragon shifters with dark brown eyes and even darker hair. Their broad shoulders came from honest labor and made them well suited to pushing ore carts on the mine tracks. Had Lord Rolant and Lady Sidone not intervened, this would have been his home and these men his real brothers.

“I wish you three would see the signs and go find a bride.” Arianwen wiggled her finger at her sons. “It is way past your time for marriage.”

“And leave you?” Sven shook his head. “Never.”

“What if the bride can’t cook?” Matus smiled at his mother. He was the charmer. He grabbed a piece of blue bread and took a big bite.

“I want to get married,” Nolan said. “But they only let us have one bride. I want two or three. When one aggravates you, you can kick her out and invite the next one to your—”

Sven leaned over and slapped his youngest brother on the back of the head. “That is why you will never receive your sign to go.”

“Don’t hit your brother,” Arianwen scolded, even though Sven was well into his adult years. To Nolan, she added, “Don’t disrespect our culture or the gods will never make your crystal glow. And, Matus, you’re being too good, so I’ll figure out what you’re up to later. And you,” she turned to Vlad, “wipe that smirk off your face. You only encourage them.”

“Yes, my lady,” Vlad said, still smiling. He turned his attention to his stew as Arianwen made her way to the kitchen. Matus jabbed him in the ribs. Vlad swatted at the man’s hand, smacking it away before Arianwen caught them misbehaving.

“One of you should take your father food,” Arianwen said as she came back to the table with another basket of blue bread slices. “Make sure he doesn’t need more help.”

“I’m going out to the mines tomorrow,” Vlad said. “I want to check on supplies and see the damage from the cave-in.”

Sven frowned and the mood instantly became serious. “It doesn’t make sense. We had the entire area surveyed before sending the drones in. Luckily, no life was lost, but a drone is trapped behind a wall of rock. We’re digging it out and setting up support beams. Initial readings say the drone acted like it found a hollow pocket in the rock and crashed forward too fast because the controls were set for aggressive digging. Sonar topography from last season’s tests indicated it should be nothing but ore and stone in that section of the mountain.”

“Is the equipment faulty?” Vlad asked.

“This is the first sign of it,” Nolan said, doubtful. “Service records are up to date.”