Heirs of War, Crown of Flames

by Mara Valderran

  “How did you come out okay?”

  “You, I suppose,” he reflected quietly. “For the first time in years, I was outraged at what Kellen was doing. I saw strength in you and this…burning light. I couldn't stand the idea of seeing her squelch that. It gave me something I hadn't felt in years.”

  “What's that?”

  His eyes locked onto her with a deep seriousness. “Hope. That's what you represent to me and to so many other people, Ariana.”

  “But I'm just a girl. What am I supposed to do? How can I win against someone like her?”

  “By fighting,” he answered intensely and inched himself closer. “I know it's hard. Truthfully, this is probably going to be the easiest part of all that you will have to do. But you have to fight, Ariana. You can't let her take away that light inside you. That's what she's fighting against. If you give up, she wins.” He placed a hand on her cheek to lift her head up. “You have to stay strong,” he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His heart leapt in his chest when he realized how hot her skin felt. “Ariana, you're burning up. Are you feeling ill?”

  “I'm just tired,” she answered, leaning into his hand. “Can we go to sleep now? I don't want to think about this anymore tonight. I just want to sleep.”

  “Of course,” he answered, still concerned about her fever. He decided he would check on it again in the morning. He would need to allow her more time to rest if she was ill, though he was still worried about staying stationary for too long. “I'll let you get some rest.”

  He started to get up but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Will you stay with me?”

  He placed his own hand over hers. “Always.”

  She lay down on her back, watching as he did the same and spread the blanket over the two of them. She pulled on his elbow, turning him over onto his side so that his arms wrapped around her. She squeezed the hand she held against her sternum and he returned the motion by hugging her tightly, trying to convey as much comfort as he could manage through the motion. He lay there, listening to the sound of her breathing until he was certain she was asleep.

  He leaned forward, brushing a light kiss onto the back of her head. “It will be all right,” he assured her in a hushed whisper so as to not wake her. “I promise you, Ariana, I will not let her hurt you. Or anyone else. I swear to you I will keep you safe from now on.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Terrena continued to pace outside the room she had been summoned to. She was a bundle of nerves, chewing at her fingernails and working on wearing a hole in the floral-patterned rug lining the hallway. Kenward stepped in her path and squeezed her arm lightly.

  “Sorry,” she said sheepishly and turned away. “I guess I'm just as ready for this as I thought.”

  “It will be all right, my Terra,” he whispered. Before he could offer any further comfort, the doors opened and he backed away.

  Terrena swept in gracefully, her head held high with renewed strength from the small interchange Kenward had offered. She bowed before the three women seated on their thrones on the platform before her. “I answer the summons of the Duillaine Banair,” she said formally before lifting her head.

  The sound of someone clapping their hands together jubilantly caused her to turn. The source turned out to be a round and graying man with a chin that bypassed his neck. “That's excellent! Such manners! Such obedience! She will make a fine wife, I am sure,” he exclaimed and clapped a much younger man on the back.

  The younger of the two men, while still looking to have about ten years on Terrena, bowed his head awkwardly and his gaze shifted away from her with clear embarrassment. He was taller than her, though by how much she wasn't sure. He had a somewhat athletic build but not overly so and only obvious by how his broad shoulders and muscular arms filled the gray-blue tunic he wore. He had short, dirty blond hair that fanned back from his prominent forehead. His bow-shaped lips were still in the forced smile he plastered to his face while his companion continued to praise Terrena like a prized pig. He lifted his thick brows as if to apologize and his remarkable sky-colored eyes met hers.

  Terrena felt her chest tighten, her nerves taking over once more. She tried to hide her fears, lowering herself into the best curtsy she could manage on her shaky feet. “I thank you, sir, for your kind words.”

  Meridel stood up, beaming from her place on the raised platform. “Lord Reilly, Lord Nicolas, I present to you my daughter, Ainnir Terrena.”

  Lord Nicolas bustled over before Reilly had the chance, practically knocking him over. The older man gripped Terrena's hands tightly and placed scratchy kisses on her knuckles, the hairs from his handlebar mustache bristled against her skin. Reilly gave an abashed grimace and patted him on the back to urge him away.

  “Very well, Nicolas, I believe you have properly conveyed your excitement over meeting the Ainnir Terrena,” Reilly said, prying the simpering man off her. He held out his hand, which Terrena tentatively took, and he bowed his head over it so that his forehead touched the top of her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last, my lady. I have heard wonderful things about you.”

  “And I you,” she said quietly as he released her hand.

  “Now that we are all acquainted, perhaps we should adjourn to the private dining hall to discuss the terms of the marriage,” Sylvanna offered.

  Lord Nicolas hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and gave his already expansive belly a pat. “We have had quite a long journey. I heard the cooks of Anscombe are the best.”

  Reilly offered his hand to Meridel as she stepped down from the platform and she nodded her agreement to Nicolas. “Yes, their culinary skills are above and beyond those of any lands. Please excuse me while I send for my husband and order the kitchens to prepare.”

  Terrena watched Reilly assist each of the Duillaine Banair from the platform. She wasn't quite where she should be. Solanna and Sylvanna engaged Lord Nicolas in polite talk while they waited, leaving Terrena and Reilly standing uncomfortably next to one another.

  “So—” they both began at the same time. Terrena flushed and gestured for him to speak.

  “I was just going to comment on how, um, lovely this room is,” he said in a melodic baritone. “Until I realized how ridiculous that sounds out loud.”

  Terrena’s tense posture relaxed. “Well, at least I am not the only one flustered by this situation.”

  “Oh no, I think you are most definitely not alone in that. Not that you are unpleasant to be around,” he said quickly.

  “Nor you,” she agreed.

  “It's just . . . odd,” he added and gave the group around them a cursory glance. “Do you think you might want to break away for a little while? Maybe talk, just the two of us?”

  For the first time since learning of her betrothal, her tense nerves seemed to abate. She gladly took his offered arm with a small nod. “We have a lovely garden not too far from here. Would you care to see it?”

  “I would love to,” he said, returning a friendly smile. He cleared his throat to address the rest of the room. “The Ainnir Terrena has offered me a tour of the gardens. Would it be acceptable if we joined you in the dining hall shortly?”

  Meridel's face brightened. “I think that is a lovely idea,” she agreed with a little too much enthusiasm.

  Terrena ducked her head and allowed Reilly to lead her out of the room. The silence surrounded them still, both far too shy to know what to say. She steered them in the direction of the gardens outside the main hall while trying to think of polite conversation.

  “Is Lord Nicolas your father?”

  “No,” he said and stared ahead with a fleeting expression of grief. “No, he is the leader of our General Assembly on Tullia. He has been negotiating with the Duillaine Banair on my behalf.”

  She drew back, regretting the question. She knew it wasn't customary for someone outside of the family to negotiate unless there were no remaining family members to do so. “I'm sorry, I just assumed.”

 
“It's all right,” he said softly, but was clearly troubled. “I am guessing your question means that you do not know the tragic tale behind the famed war hero of Tullia?”

  Terrena shook her head slowly as they approached the edge of the gardens. “Forgive me, we have had much going on since our return to Anscombe. And . . . I feel that my own fears might have caused me to neglect to ask the proper questions about you.”

  “I can imagine. I know this life has taken a certain amount of readjusting for you after living as you did before,” he said with sympathy. His piercing gaze scanned the landscape. He hid his hands in his pockets and took in the serene atmosphere around them, rocking back on his heels. The path ahead was lined with purple and blue flowers of all kinds leading to a large marble fountain in the shape of a tree with its many branches spewing water from the tips. “How much do you know of Tullia?”

  “I know that they are a powerful world. Their strengths lie in textiles from what I understand. I also know that they have remained neutral in the war though they still abide by Estridian law.”

  He nodded. “Which Estridia has been happy to let us do. I'm sure you heard that Cahira didn't feel the same and tried to invade, and that we overcame them.”

  “I have. The Duillaine spoke very highly of your heroics in leading your people to battle. There’s no need to by modest.”

  “It isn’t modesty you hear in my tone, Ainnir Terrena. It is regret.” He walked down the pathway, his fingers trailing the bushes of flowers. He stopped in front of the fountain, lost in his own thoughts and memories. “The invasion lasted some time. Months. We were getting beaten down at every turn. We aren't a fighting people, so it isn't something that comes naturally to us. There was chaos and death everywhere. That Cahira would rule our lands looked to be eminent. There were those of us who felt that we could fight them off. I helped to organize these people and to strengthen our offenses. Instead of merely defending ourselves when they attacked, we started launching counterstrikes of our own in an attempt to weaken their forces. And it began to work.”

  Terrena could see how much these actions weighed on him and placed a hand on his arm. “Wars are never easy, whether they are fought or only witnessed. You did what you had to do for your people. You should be proud of yourself for that.”

  Reilly gave a brief and humorless laugh. “It's never that simple.” He turned to face her. “What they failed to tell you of my story, I'm sure for fear that it would turn you away from me, is that I am a wounded man. I had a wife and a son when the war began.”

  Terrena couldn’t stifle her gasp of surprise. She knew about his wife, but the Duillaine failed to mention his child. “They told me that you lost your family in the war. I'm so sorry, Lord Reilly.”

  “Did they tell you how I lost them?” He lowered his head to hide his frustration at her confused look. “No, I'd imagine Lord Nicolas would want to keep that quiet since he was trying to marry me off. No hope in selling damaged goods, I suppose,” he quipped darkly. “The Cahirans heard about me, that I was leading the efforts against them. They took my entire family, and they murdered them. My parents. My grandparents. My siblings and their families. Then they strung them up like scarecrows in the fields by my house. My boy was just seven.”

  She turned back to the fountain, uncertain as to what she could possibly say to that. This war had cost her much, but Reilly’s story reminded her that she hadn’t lost as much as others. And it only reiterated the power she had to finally bring an end to this war. Marrying someone other than Garrett was a small price to pay to save others from having to endure the kind of heartbreak and loss Reilly had.

  “Please know that I completely understand if you do not wish to go through with this.” He took her hand and turned her to face him. “These arrangements are hard enough without ghosts of past loves haunting your every move. I had my happiness and it is my hope that you would find yours someday, even if it is with someone else.”

  “I had my happiness already,” she blurted out. She pressed her lips together, regretting her rash admittance. She relaxed, realizing that he had just opened up a very raw part of himself to her in the hopes of entering into their arrangement with honesty. She felt she owed him the same. “I had a love before. He traveled with us though that is not widely known. The Duillaine Banair believe he was there to help us blend in better as we moved, but he was there because I loved him.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had to leave him behind. My place is here.” She paused, continuing in a shaky voice with an admittance she had never allowed herself. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive. If he is, he probably hates me.”

  He mirrored the look of sympathy she had given him earlier. “So I guess I am not the only one with a pained past.”

  “No, you are not.” She linked her arm through his and began to guide them back down the path. “But perhaps we can help each other to move forward.”

  “I think I would like that,” he said with relief. “I was hoping to tour the neighboring cities of Anscombe, to get to know the lands better. Perhaps you could join me?”

  Terrena closed her eyes, wishing she could. Before the Cahirans had mounted their rebellion, the Duillaine had been free to roam the worlds. But now? Now that was impossible. “I’m afraid the Duillaine would never agree to that. It’s far too dangerous in these times of war for us to travel.”

  “Of course,” he said apologetically. “I should have thought . . . we all heard what happened with Nandalia. May the Mhathair Mhor embrace her ever more.”

  “Ever more,” Terrena repeated. “I am certain we will have plenty of time to get acquainted with one another upon your return. As I understand it, Adelphi will be requiring our presence at the saoire lessons soon.”

  Reilly's eyes sparkled when he answered. “Lessons? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to come up with excuses to spend time together.”

  “We can't have that,” she teased. “Where will all the mystery go if we get to know each other now?”

  “Exactly,” he agreed with a playful grimace. “How will we create the awkward air of two strangers pledging their lives to one another that is such a core part of our marriage traditions? We might become . . . ” he leaned closer as if he was about to utter a dirty word, “comfortable with one another.”

  Terrena faked a gasp. “Great Mother forbid it!” They both threw their heads back laughing. “Tell me, Lord Reilly—”

  “Just Reilly will be fine. Until we're married, of course,” he teased.

  “Very well. Reilly, can I ask a personal question?”

  “I see no harm in my future bride getting personal. What's on your mind?”

  Terrena picked a white flower and twirled it in her fingers, turning over the question in her mind. “Did you…did you love your wife? Before you were married, I mean.”

  “Very much. Our parents were good friends, so all of this negotiation wasn't necessary. That's not usually the way on Tullia.”

  “No, it isn't the way in most places, from my experience.” She thought about her life before, which felt like a lifetime ago. “There are those who seek to gain the upper hand in life by marrying off their children to the highest bidders, but mostly . . . it was about love. If you turned twenty-one and weren't in love, then no one would be forced on you. You'd just . . . live. It was simple. It was nice.”

  “It's my understanding that these customs play a bigger role in the larger, wealthier cities where people have something to gain or negotiate for. I'm surprised, honestly, that the Duillaine chose me for you.”

  She tilted her head, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “The competition was pretty stiff, from what I understand. Families with young men and high hopes for societal gain are practically lining up at the doors. And yet,” he continued with a shake of the head, “they chose an old, broken war-hero with little to offer.”

  Terrena felt the sting of betrayal burning her eyes. The Duillaine had
made it sound like Reilly was the only one willing to take her at her age, but he made it sound like that wasn't the case at all. “I suppose the Duillaine hope to gain Tullia in return. Your army is quite impressive, from what I understand.”

  “We do what we can,” he said modestly, “but most of the men and women fighting are fighting for their families. They volunteered, and I'm not convinced they'd willingly go off and fight someone else's war.”

  “The war belongs to us all so long as Cahira continues to threaten every border with invasion.”

  “Yes,” his jaw tightened, “but there are those that believe the Duillaine could have ended this war long ago. They have the power. They could have easily squashed the rebellion before it even began. And yet, they do nothing. They do nothing to improve the conditions of towns that are practically in their backyard.”

  Terrena plucked at the flower’s petals, unable to argue. She'd seen as much herself when traveling through Estridia. She would usually say something like 'It is not the way of the Duillaine to coddle the lands. The people must stand up and thrive on their own.' But that wasn't enough anymore. She smiled at Reilly and linked her arm purposefully through his. “Here's to bringing about a better future. Together.”

  He returned her smile and patted her hand. “Together.”

  ***

  “Gentlemen,” Raemann greeted, casually strolling over to his fellow warriors with a handful of popcorn. They were all positioned outside of the ballroom today as Adelphi once again attempted to teach their wards the dances common to Anscombe.

  Liam closed his eyes as the smell wafted over to him. “Where did you get that?”

  Raemann shrugged, though the satisfaction was evident on his face. “I taught the Donnfay how to do it. It's really simple when you think about it. Rhaya did a science fair project about how it works and it's essentially just applying a lot of heat to make the water inside the popcorn seed turn into steam and cause it to pop.”