Orphan's Blade. Aubrie Dionne

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СКАЧАТЬ chest tightened. Had she said too much?

      Danika Thoridian’s lips pursed as she stood. “Hopefully, your sacrifice is at an end.”

      Hadn’t it just started? An uncomfortable silence reigned as Valoria struggled to keep that last thought to herself. As if to ease the awkwardness of the moment, the king stood and walked down the steps to take her arm. His fingers were rough with calluses and thick as sausages, but his skin was clean. She’d heard he hadn’t been in battle since he’d damaged his left knee running after raiders last year.

      His tone was soft and kind. “You’ve had a rough journey. Please, take my son’s seat by our side.”

      Valoria glanced at the empty chair resting beside the king. Where was Braxten? Should he not find the time to welcome her? Anger ripped through her, followed by a humiliating sense of relief. She’d have to face him some day, why not get it over with?

      “Braxten is defending our southern border with the Royal Guard.” The king showed her to her intended’s throne. She sat upon the white ivory, feeling like a child in a giant’s chair. Hard stone pressed against her behind, and the armrests were cold as winter’s chill. Hopefully, the man who sat there didn’t take after his throne.

      Nathaniel approached the king and queen, bowing before them. As he briefed them on the attack, Valoria tried not to watch him too closely. She found her eyes returning to the solid lines of his face every chance she got. He was the only one among the Thoridians who made her feel at home.

      But he wasn’t a Thoridian, now was he?

      The doors to the hall burst open, and Braxten strode through, his armor chinking with each step. The portrait had not done his size justice. He towered over the other men, wide as an ox with bulging arms and legs. A bloody gash crossed his left cheek, and he wiped the blood away as if it was sweat. His wide-set eyes were dark and fierce, his gait purposeful and swift. A brown sack dangled from his fist.

      Valoria’s throat constricted. Was it a gift for her?

      The underside of the sack dripped dark liquid on the marble floor. If it was a wedding gift, than it was a strange one indeed.

      Not even glancing in her direction, Brax approached the king and queen and upended the sack. A round head of wet black hair bounced twice, then rested with two glaring eyes staring at Valoria. Its mouth lay open in a silent scream. Horror and disgust rolled through her. She tightened her grip on the throne, fingernails digging into the ivory.

      “The leader of the resistance.” Brax’s voice was deep and velvety, growling with each word. It resonated deep inside Valoria’s gut. It was a voice she’d remember, a voice that would haunt her dreams.

      The queen covered her mouth. The king waved her back. His face remained stoic as he approached his son. “Have you forgotten what day this is?”

      “I thought you’d be proud, father.” Brax bowed his head.

      “I am always proud of you, son.” The king put a hand on his shoulder. “But, now you must forget our battles. Your future wife has come.”

      The king gestured toward Valoria, and Brax turned in her direction. She tried to keep her face expressionless as his eyes bore into her, pulling her apart bone by bone. He seemed disappointed somehow, as if they’d given him a toy he didn’t need. Still, Brax bowed his head to her. “My lady.”

      She nodded once, acknowledging him, but she could not accept him in her heart.

      The warrior stood and turned back to the king. Although he spoke under his voice, Valoria’s trained minstrel ears could hear. “I expect a counterattack in the next few days. I must fortify the southern border.”

      The king sighed. “My son—always thinking of the safety of our kingdom.” He put a hand on Braxten’s shoulder. “Be back by tonight’s dinner feast. You must take your seat next to our future princess.”

      “As you will, father.” Brax nodded, then stormed off as quick as he’d come with his men following him. Awkward silence fell as his footsteps receded down the hall.

      Nathaniel took the sack and covered the head. He turned to the nearest of the Royal Guard and whispered under his breath. “Get that foul thing out of here.”

      Valoria hunched over in her chair as a sick pang hit her stomach. Panic rose inside her. Could she retain her composure, or would she explode from disappointment in front of the entire audience in the main hall? Grinding her teeth, she straightened and held onto the throne with both hands. She did this for her father, and for the House of Song.

      Nathaniel addressed the king and queen. “The princess has had a rough journey. Allow me to escort her to her quarters, where she can rest for the evening’s festivities.”

      “Of course.” The king smiled at her, and it was not unkind. If only his tenderness had passed to his son.

      Valoria stood and accepted Nathaniel’s arm. They exited the throne room in silence. Only after the doors closed behind her did she breathe again.

      “The king and queen have chosen the finest quarters for you and your handmaidens.” Nathaniel gazed straight ahead as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. Had her introduction to the king and queen disappointed him? Could he sense her reservation, her fear?

      “They are very kind.”

      “They have awaited your coming for a long time.”

      “As did the House of Song.”

      “I’m sure.” He glanced in her direction. “I’m not sure your father has told you, but as a young boy I fought at his side.”

      Valoria perked up. Any mention of her father—her home—raised her spirits. “No, he did not say.”

      Nathaniel smiled as if remembering a joke. “We barely escaped a battle with kobolds in the red woods. From there, we entered the caves of Darkenbite and met the albinos.”

      “Sounds like quite an adventure.” Why had her father failed to tell her of it? “Who else was on this quest?”

      “The king and queen. This happened before they were married, back when Bronford Thoridian was her bodyguard.”

      Valoria nodded. There was her answer. Her father stayed away from that time in his life as if it were poison. Yet, he could never bring himself to forget.

      “It was the greatest adventure of my life.” The hall ended in a corridor that parted both ways. Nathaniel gestured toward the right.

      At least some good had come of it. “So far.”

      Nathaniel turned toward her with a question in his eyes.

      She smiled for the first time that day. “You have many years left to have more.” Even though the story aged him about ten years older than her, for her mother had birthed her two years after the queen had stolen her father’s heart.

      A smile slipped through his lips before he turned back and showed her to an oaken door. “Your room, my lady.”

      Nathaniel opened the door to bright sunlight filtering through three large triangular windows. A four-poster canopy bed draped СКАЧАТЬ