Chapter 14
VIVIENNE
Auren begins unrolling gear from Vaelen’s packs with calm efficiency while I scan the woods around us in concern. “Are you certain this is a good spot to camp?” I gesture broadly at the forest. “We have no idea what could be out there.”
His lips twitch. “Then you should be pleased I am here.”
I open my mouth to protest but quickly snap it shut, unsure how to answer, and also upset with myself that I am, in fact, pleased he is here. “Perhaps we should continue until we find an inn?”
“It would be several more hours of riding, my lovely bride.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t mind that.”
“Well, I do,” he replies. “We need to rest and so does Vaelen.”
He hands me a coil of rope and places several stakes next to my feet.
“Fine.” Snatching up a stake, I march toward the tent canvas.
Auren moves to my side. “First, we need to—”
“I don’t need your help,” I snap, thoroughly upset that we’re going to sleep in the woods like Orcs. “I can do it myself.”
“Alright.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. A smile tugs at his mouth, and I fight the urge to throw the rope at his head. He really is the most exasperating man.
I try to do it the way I’ve seen the castle staff hammer stakes for pavilion tents during outdoor banquets. Which is to say: I stab it into the earth with brute force and determination and an insulting lack of technique.
The stake goes in crooked, so I try it again. When it leans further, I grit my teeth and try to adjust it. Without warning, the ground gives and the stake pops free.
The canvas shifts and one of the poles slips. The entire structure collapses in a heap as I stand there frozen, stake still in my hand.
A hot rush of humiliation flares in my chest, and I turn back to find Auren staring at the collapsed tent.
He remains very still. His lips are pressed tightly together as he fights back a smile.
“Your tent is flimsy,” I say sharply.
Auren’s brows lift. “My tent?”
“Yes.” I gesture at the heap of canvas. “Clearly it was poorly made.”
“I see,” he says, voice carefully even despite the restrained amusement sparkling in his gaze. “Then perhaps we should… reinforce it.”
I want the earth to swallow me whole. Instead, I give him an imperious look. “Obviously.”
Auren kneels beside the crumpled mess. He doesn’t lecture or mock me. He simply begins rebuilding it, fitting poles back into place with practiced ease while I stand there clutching the stake like an idiot.
“Come here,” he says.
When I hesitate, Auren looks up at me, eyes glowing faintly in the dimming light. “Vivienne.”
Something about the way he says my name makes my irritation falter, and I step closer.
He takes the stake from me, then places it back in my palm. His sharp claws brush lightly across my knuckles as he adjusts my grip with his own hand over mine.
“This angle,” he murmurs in my ear. “Not straight down. You drive it in, so the tension holds.”
He shifts behind me, close enough that his chest presses against my back. Heat floods my cheeks, my heart pounding as his breath brushes my neck when he speaks. Every part of me is suddenly aware of him—his warmth, the strength in his arms, the maddening patience with which he guides my hands.
I tell myself it’s practical. That it means nothing, and I would feel this way if any man was this close. But it’s a lie. Because no man has ever been this close to me. And no man has ever made me feel so… steady.
Auren’s voice drops slightly. “Again.”
I force myself to breathe and then drive the stake into the earth with the angle he shows me. I smile as it holds.
Auren’s hand stays over mine a moment before he finally pulls away, and I’m surprised by the faint sense of loss where his touch had been. “Good,” he says.
I swallow, pretending my throat isn’t suddenly dry. “It’s still a flimsy tent.”
His lips curl slightly at the edges. “Of course it is.”
After we set up the second tent, he moves to the firepit, gathering twigs and dry bark from his pack, arranging them with methodical care. He pulls out two rocks. “They’re called firestones. Strike them like this to make them spark.”
He hits them together rather hard, then hands them to me. I try a few times, but only a pitiful spark jumps from the stones, fizzling out before it can land on the kindling. I blow out a frustrated sigh. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we eat cold food.” His eyes flick to mine, full of mirth. “And you complain.”
I scowl. I hate that he has learned me so quickly. “I do not complain.”
He arches a teasing brow. “Of course not.”
Gritting my teeth, I strike the stones again. Sparks fly, but nothing catches on the pile. After a few more tries, my pride and patience begin to fray, and I toss the stones to the ground. “This is pointless. Since you’re such an expert, why don’t you do it?”
“I could.”
“Then why don’t you?”
His gaze shifts, growing serious. “Because if I am ever not here, you need to know how to do this.”
The words strike deeper than they should. I don’t like that he said it so calmly, as if it’s simply truth. As if he has already imagined this scenario, and cares enough to prepare me for it.
I don’t know why, but I distinctly dislike the idea of a world where he doesn’t exist. Even if I’m not thrilled at the idea of our marriage, Auren is a good man… when he’s not being insufferable, that is. “That’s a rather dramatic thing to say, isn’t it?”
“I’m a warrior, Vivienne. I would be remiss if I didn’t teach you what you needed to know should anything happen to me.”
An uncomfortable tightness squeezes my chest, but before I can say anything, he offers me the stones. “Now, try again.”
I snatch them from him. “Fine.”
He guides my hands once more, his palms covering mine. “Not force,” he murmurs near my cheek. “Control.”
This time, when I strike them together, a spark catches, turning into a small flame that slowly begins to grow until it finally takes hold, crackling to life in the pit.
A beaming smile lights my face. I did that. Not a servant, not a guard. Me.
“You did it,” he says, gaze full of approval.
I straighten my back. “Of course I did.”
He grins. “Naturally.”
I turn away quickly, because the warmth in his voice causes a strange sensation in my chest that I’d prefer not to examine too closely.
The golden light of the flames spill across the clearing, pushing the shadows back. The darkness beyond the ring of light still feels watchful, but no longer predatory.
Auren pulls out two bedrolls, placing one in each small tent. And I feel oddly disappointed, which is completely absurd.
Vaelen slips back into the trees as night settles around us, vanishing into the shadows to hunt.
Auren prepares a simple dinner of dried meat, cheese, fruit, and bread. It’s nothing like the lavish meal I’d ordered at the inn or what I’m used to back at my father’s castle, but it’s filling, nonetheless.
I eat quietly, the fire warming my hands, my shoulders still sore from driving stakes into stubborn earth.
When I’m finished, Auren pulls out a small, wrapped package. “What is that?”
He unwraps the parcel and places a slice of lemon cake in front of me.
My lips part. “Where did you get that?”
“I bought it before we left the inn, because I knew you liked it,” he replies casually, as if it’s not one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.
My chest tightens. “That was… very thoughtful of you.”
He grins. “You’re welcome, me'lira.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because it’s what you are.”
I blink, caught off guard once more as he uses this term of affection. Quickly, I avert my gaze and turn my attention back to my lemon cake, pretending this word does not affect me. Even though it unfortunately seems to be beginning to do just that.
The forest seems to grow louder once the sun is gone. Crickets trill, an owl calls from somewhere unseen, and the river murmurs steadily behind us. A pair of glowing eyes blink at me from the dark woods before disappearing. It’s probably some sort of nocturnal creature—a fox or something similar.
For a moment, it reminds me of my recurring nightmare… of stone beneath my feet, vines thick with thorns, and those terrible golden eyes watching me from the dark.
I push the thought away quickly and I tell myself I’m not afraid. I’ve faced courts full of powerful men without blinking. Surely, I can handle a few trees.
Auren moves easily through the dim light, as if the dark belongs to him. He circles the clearing once, eyes scanning, head tilted slightly, listening in a way that makes me feel blind by comparison.
When he returns, he kneels near the fire beside me.
“What are you looking for out there?” I ask even though I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
“Anything that might be a danger.”
“Like what?”
“Ogres, Trolls, bandits… Fire wolves.”
I frown. “What are Fire wolves?”
“They are similar in size to Dire wolves, but they have red eyes and their claws are tipped with venom,” he explains. “They are usually kept by Ogres, sometimes Orcs as well.”
I turn my gaze to the woods, even more wary of the forest than I was before.
“But don’t worry,” Auren adds. “Dire wolves have a heightened sense of smell. Vaelen is an excellent guard. He stays close to camp, even when he leaves to hunt.”
As if his words have summoned him, Vaelen appears from the darkness on silent paws. He steps into the firelight, silver fur catching gold at the edges as he walks toward us.
Auren runs a hand down the wolf’s neck, and Vaelen rubs his snout against his side affectionately.
I’m surprised when the wolf’s golden eyes sweep to me and he pads closer. He nudges his massive head against my shoulder, and I pat his neck, running my fingers through his soft, thick fur. He leans into the touch and then nuzzles my arm, similar to how he did with Auren only a moment ago.
When I look up, I find my Dark Elf husband watching us, his expression softened. “I think you’re quickly becoming his favorite person.”
I must admit I like that thought. I smile and scratch behind Vaelen’s ear. “Well, I suppose he’s growing on me too.”
As the night wears on, the air grows a bit colder. Even with the fire, it’s still rather chilly. I pull my shawl tighter around my shoulders and glance back at the bedroll in the tent behind me. “I’m going to bed,” I announce.
“Goodnight, Vivienne,” Auren says as I enter my tent, closing the flap so I can change into my night shift.
When I’m finished, I lie down on my bedroll, arranging my blanket around me like a cocoon. The ground is hard and I’m fairly certain that’s a root digging into my shoulder blade. I twist onto my side and sigh heavily.
This is rather barbaric, in my opinion. I’ve never slept on bare ground, without real walls, and without servants nearby.
The forest is alive with far too many sounds. A slight rustle outside the tent makes my skin prickle with worry. My heart hammers as I blink in the darkness, wondering if perhaps sharing a tent might be a wiser decision right now.
Or perhaps… “Auren?”
“Yes,” he replies, and it sounds as if he’s still near the fire, in front of my tent.
“Do you think Vaelen might be uncomfortable out there?” I ask. “I—I mean, if you think it might be warmer for him, he can share my tent.”
Auren’s silent for so long, I wonder if he is on to me. After a moment, he replies, “He’s gone back into the woods to hunt.”
“Oh,” I reply, trying to hide my disappointment.
Lying in the dark, I blink up at the ceiling. Something screeches in the woods, and my heart begins pounding so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if Auren can hear it.
“It was a fox. You’re safe, Vivienne,” Auren’s voice cuts through the darkness. “I’m out here, keeping watch.”
Something in my throat tightens before I can stop it, and I feel my body begin to relax.
Closing my eyes, I think of Auren just outside my tent. It does something strange to me knowing that he’s there, making sure I’m protected. And it isn’t long before I’m drifting away, secure in the simple, steady truth that he’s there, and he won’t allow anything to harm me.