Chapter 8
VIVIENNE
The farming village of Brookhollow is a few hours north of the capital and much smaller than I’d expected. The few times I accompanied Father on his travels, within our kingdom, we never came this way.
The streets are unpaved, the buildings a patchwork of stone and timber, their roofs slanted at odd angles, as if braced for harsh winters.
Smoke curls from chimneys, the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread is thick in the air, mingling with the earthy tang of damp soil. Merchants call out their wares from wooden stalls as we pass.
A bit tired from the ride, I sway in the saddle. Unbidden warmth fills my chest as Auren’s grip tightens around my middle to ensure I won’t fall. “I’ve got you,” he whispers in my ear, sending a faint shiver down my spine.
He must mistakenly believe I’m cold because he quickly drapes his cloak over my shoulders, enveloping me in his heat and his masculine scent. “Here,” he murmurs, carefully tucking it around my shoulders. “This should protect you from the chill.”
For a moment I’m speechless. I can’t remember the last time someone cared for me like this. “Thank you,” I murmur.
“Of course, my darling wife.”
His words make my heart do an odd little flip, but I force myself to ignore it and focus on something else.
It’s a bit strange to be traveling as a commoner, but also a bit freeing. We’ve passed several people along the road, but no one has recognized me as the princess. Then again, why would they? There’s no royal carriage or guards anywhere nearby.
As Vaelen pads further into the village, Auren’s steady presence is warm at my back, his muscular thighs bracketing mine.
I’ve never been this close to a man before, and I’m far too aware of how easily he could pull me closer… and how little I trust myself not to let him.
I don’t like that he’s already affecting me in this way, but perhaps it’s because I’ve left my home and my family and I’m feeling vulnerable. That must be what it is. It has to be.
As we reach the edge of the town wall, I catch sight of a man and a woman, their young daughter nestled between them, on a pile of straw near the gates.
The mother smooths a hand over the child’s tangled hair as the father, his face lined with too many years of hardship, hesitates before calling out. “Spare a few coins, my lord?” His voice is low and weary. “For my family.”
The little girl peers up at us with wide, sunken eyes, her small hands clutching at her mother’s sleeve.
My heart clenches. I’ve never seen people in such a state of poverty before.
Auren reins Vaelen to a stop. He shifts behind me, reaching into one of the satchels attached to the saddle. To my surprise, he pulls out a generous handful of gold coins and presses them into the father’s callused palms.
The man’s jaw drops as he stares at the wealth resting in his hands. “My lord, this is too much.” He tries to push some of it back toward Auren, his arms trembling. “We couldn’t possibly accept this.”
“No.” Auren closes the man’s hands around the coins. “Keep it.”
His gaze is full of gratitude as he bows deeply.
“May the gods bless you both,” his wife says, her eyes misting.
“And you as well,” Auren replies as we continue on our way.
As soon as we’re out of earshot, I glance back at the family. A strange sensation twists in my stomach as I think of all my fine dresses, my jewelry, my decadent meals… the lavish life I’ve lived as a princess.
“What’s wrong?” Auren asks.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “I—I thought my father took care of our people.”
His arm tightens around my waist. “From what I’ve seen on my travels, your kingdom is better off than most.”
“Is it like this in the Dark Elf Kingdom? Are there families that struggle?”
“The King gives extra grain to the temples, ensuring all of his people are fed.”
I twist back to look at him. “You gave that family enough to feed themselves for months.”
Auren nods.
I wring my hands in the fabric of my tunic. “But you’re a soldier,” I say carefully. “Surely you don’t have that much to give away.”
“My mother taught us to always help those less fortunate,” he replies. “She believed that kindness comes back to you two-fold.”
I fall quiet as I consider his words. This is the first time he’s spoken of his family. “Will I get to meet her? Your mother?”
Auren is silent for a moment before he replies. “No. My parents died a few years ago. They were killed by Trolls. It’s just me and my younger brother—Tarin—now.”
“I'm so sorry for your loss.” Even as I say it, the words don't feel like enough.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
I twist my head back to look at him. “I know that words cannot bring them back. Nor can they make the pain of grief any less.”
Memories float to the surface of my mind.
“After my mother died, I was devastated. And I always felt like words... condolences were inadequate after such terrible loss.” I rest my hand atop his, around my waist, and squeeze it gently.
“I just wanted you to know I understand. And if you need to speak of it, I will listen.”
“Thank you, Vivienne.” His voice is thick with emotion. “Truly.”
I turn back to the front again, hoping I've not overstepped. We may not know each other well, but grief and loss are universal, and my heart aches for him because I know what it is to lose a parent.
We ride in silence a moment before he speaks. “What was your mother like?” he asks. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
A wistful smile touches my lips. I love to speak of her.
Especially because it seems that Father never does.
It’s too painful for him. “She died when I was young, but I can still remember how she used to sing us to sleep. I loved the sound of her voice. It was so beautiful, Aldric and I would try so hard to stay awake, just to hear her longer.”
Auren goes still behind me.
“I was only eight when she died, but… losing her was the first time I realized the world could change without asking my permission.” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “That’s the devastation of loss, isn’t it?” I ask softly. “How something can be ripped away so easily.”
“Yes.” His grip tightens around my waist. “That's exactly how it feels.”
Silence stretches between us, but it no longer feels awkward.
“Aldric and I… we leaned on each other after. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”
“It was the same for me and Tarin.” Auren huffs a soft breath, almost like a quiet laugh. “He was always getting into trouble, trying to distract me. And I pretended I wasn’t as affected as I was, but he always saw through it.”
I glance back at him again. “You’re close to him.”
His eyes meet mine, something deep and unguarded reflected in their depths. “Yes, you’ll meet him when we reach my home.”
“Are the two of you alike?”
“In appearance.” He grins, the mood somewhat lighter now. “But in personality, he’s a bit more serious than me. But he does have a mischievous streak.”
“Well, I always heard Dark Elves were stoic people. That they hardly ever laughed or joked.” I arch a teasing brow. “But then I met you.”
Auren huffs out a laugh. “I suppose we are, for the most part. But around close family and friends, we are… different.” He leans in slightly, his warm mint breath skimming across my cheek as he whispers, “Especially with our mates.”
His masculine scent surrounds me—something akin to cedarwood and spice—as he coils his arm tighter around my middle.
My fingers twitch against the saddle, irritated that I even have the presence of mind to be so acutely aware of him and how solid and strong he feels against my back… how his presence makes me feel oddly safe and protected even though we’re still relative strangers.
I push these troubling thoughts aside when I notice an inn up ahead, situated at a crossroads.
“We’ll stay there for the night,” Auren says. He points to a line of dark clouds forming in the distance. “There’s a storm coming, but we should reach the inn before it arrives.”
By the time we reach our destination, the wind is gusting and the first few drops of rain begin pelting the earth. Auren dismounts before reaching up and effortlessly lifting me off Vaelen. He pulls me to his chest in a bridal carry and walks me to the entrance, so my boots won’t get muddy.
Just that extra bit of care he gives me, does something strange in my chest. And when he sets me down, his strong hands linger around my waist. I’m mesmerized as his blue eyes meet mine, and I realize how easy it would be to get lost in their depths.
“Are you alright?” he asks in concern. “Do you feel unsteady?”
Warmth flushes my cheeks, and I take a small step back, smoothing a hand down my tunic, trying to appear more composed than I feel. “I can stand on my own, thank you very much.”
A knowing smirk curls his lips. “Of course you can, me'lira.”