Chapter 40
I felt like I had been slapped.
The king’s words locked my muscles, spiked my heart rate, and caused a pounding in my ears as blood rushed to my head. Even drawing breath became a challenge; my chest felt as though it was caving in on itself.
It was as if my brain had malfunctioned, and I was experiencing some kind of nightmare hallucination.
In this nightmare, a glowing Tarben descended the stairs towards the unmistakable figure of Oriane.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her passionately in a display that was met with delighted whoops and cheers from the crowd.
Watching them embrace was akin to being hacked through the heart with a blunt dagger.
I didn’t know what in the bleeding seas was happening, but I couldn’t bear witness to it any longer. I spun on my heels and fled out the great hall, desperate to outrun the horrible feeling that had settled in my stomach.
The hands of despair clenched my heart and squeezed the air from my lungs as I weaved through the elated crowd. As I bolted towards the door, I barely registered the bodies I bumped into, a singular thought driving me forward. Get out.
I’d made it to the door when a firm hand gripped my shoulder. Whirling around, I came face-to-face with Livia. Her lips were pursed and her brow was furrowed. “Are you alright?” she asked in a low voice.
Silently, I shook my head, afraid of what would spill out of me if I spoke. The pitying look she gave me was all it took for my eyes to burn. I was going to humiliate myself in front of all these people.
“Oh Alara,” she breathed, missing nothing. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
She took my hand and led me from the great hall, where jubilant music had begun to play. A celebration was underway.
Neither of us spoke as we walked. I was too adrift in the spiral of my thoughts to attempt to make conversation, even if I wanted to.
Tarben and Oriane were betrothed and my life was ruined. There was no way he was going to confess his love for me now. Not when he had asked another woman to be his wife.
Had I imagined everything that happened between us last night? All he’d said? “I want to be with you always. I’ve never been more sure about anything before.”
Those were his words. Were they lies? Was he toying with me for his own cruel amusement? Had this all been a game to him? I couldn’t think of any other reason he would act like I was special to him then propose to someone else.
Was it possible he didn’t truly care for Oriane? The lovesick way he looked at her—like she was both cause and cure—left me feeling unwell. The beast that lived in the depths of my body clawed at the ground and howled. It demanded answers—how could Tarben prefer Oriane to me?
I felt even more stupid for allowing myself to care about him. Now my stupidity would cost me everything.
“Sit down. I’ll send for some tea, or something stronger if you’d prefer?”
Nodding, I took a seat. I reached for the tiny, violet, stone charm on my bracelet and absentmindedly rolled it between my fingers.
Had he left my bed to ask for her hand in marriage?
Or had their betrothal already been sealed while he lay beside me, pretending I was the one he wanted to share his life with?
At some point, Livia sat down next to me. “Now, tell me what’s happened,” she said, sounding troubled.
I would not cry and I would not show emotion in front of her. “His Highness has not been forthcoming about his relationship with Oriane. And I’m a halfwit.”
“You’re not a halfwit,” she protested. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“There’s nothing to be done. Tarben loves someone else, and I have been duped.” My voice was flat, despondent.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe it,” she said firmly. “The prince cares for you. It was plain for all to see. If he’s chosen to marry Oriane, there must be a reason for it. If you just talk to him—”
“Talk to him?” I scoffed. What was it Oriane had said?
“You, my dear, are merely this week’s fixation—his attention will wane and he’ll move on to the next harlot who spreads her legs for him.
” Was this because I had turned him down last night?
Or had he planned on marrying her all along?
Either way, his ugly actions spoke louder than any pretty lie he’d ever whispered.
“I don’t need to talk to him. He’s made his feelings known. ”
She clicked her tongue. “I’d been so certain that you were the one. There were even those of us who believed a proposal was imminent.”
“Well, you were right about that,” I said in an attempt at a joke, only the words curdled in my mouth and came out sounding sour.
She frowned thoughtfully at the tray of red wine a servant had placed on the tea table between us. “Something isn’t right. How can he go from being besotted with you to announcing his betrothal to Oriane, whom, might I add, he never cared for before?”
“It was all an act. A wicked play. And the role of the fool went to me.”
“No one is that good an actor. There must be a reason for this madness, you must talk to him,” she said, handing me a goblet.
I swallowed a generous measure of wine, considering Livia’s words. My pride snarled at the thought of speaking to the one who had battered it, but my heart wanted to face its assailant. And I deserved answers.
“Fine,” I conceded, setting down my half-drained goblet. “I’ll send word that I would like to talk to him.”
As she nodded her approval, a thought occurred to me. “What are you doing here?” I asked, remembering that she had gone away only a few days prior.
“I had to return to see to some urgent matters pertaining to Ivar’s estate. I got back to the castle last night—impeccable timing, it would seem,” she added with a delicate sip of her own wine. “You know, if it’s true that he loves her, then our future king is a scoundrel. And a nincompoop.”
I snorted. Forcing a lightness to my tone, I said, “That kind of talk might be considered by some as treasonous.”
She shrugged and grinned at me. “Oriane is awful, and everyone knows it. Prince Tarben must be going daft if he’s willingly chosen to spend the rest of his life bound to her.”
Something about her words triggered my memory. I voiced a question that had been bothering me. “Tarben once mentioned to me that Lord Hywell took a special interest in Oriane. Do you know what he could have meant?”
A dark look passed over her face. “Her aunt was Ivar’s first wife.
After she passed, Ivar took it upon himself to care for her mother.
He helped arrange her marriage to an eligible suitor.
Lord Valtteri, Oriane’s father, was once the general for the king’s forces.
He is calculating, with an excellent mind for warfare strategy, but he’s not a good man.
He was incredibly cruel to her mother. So much so that, shortly after Oriane was born, she took her own life. ”
A coldness swept over my body and something like pity tugged at my chest. I never would have guessed that she had such a tumultuous upbringing.
“Ivar was concerned about her wellbeing and, having no children of our own, he took it upon himself to ensure that she would be adequately cared for. For years, he wrote to her father beseeching him to send her to the castle to be educated by the finest tutors in the kingdom. Eventually, at the age of fourteen, Lord Valtteri agreed and sent her here. Ivar did what he could for her, but by then it was too late. The damage had been done. She was a spoiled and entitled little madame with a disregard for anyone but herself. Over the years, Ivar tried to mentor her, to show her kindness, but his attempts were always met with resistance.”
She shook her head, lost in a distant memory. “Ivar never stopped trying to help her. He even left her some possessions in his will.”
Curiosity compelled me to lean in closer. “Is that what the two of you were talking about? After the Ceremony of Rites?”
“Yes,” she said with a sad smile. “She was… eager to take ownership of the possessions he had left for her.”
“What did he leave her?” Whatever it was must be extraordinarily valuable for Oriane to have acted like she did after the Ceremony of Rites. “If I find out you are lying about this, we both know what I’ll do to you.”
Livia looked contemplative. “Let’s see… paintings, books, some clothing that had belonged to her aunt, bracelets, rings, a necklace. All terribly valuable, but not what she was hoping for, I’m sure.”
“What do you think she was hoping for?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a lift of her shoulders.
“Most likely gold. Between you and me, her father’s estate is failing.
He’s up to the eyeballs in debt. They’re on the verge of losing everything, and, if that happens, well, he would hardly be in a position to secure Oriane a suitable husband. ”
My mind raced at this knowledge. If it was true, what better way to secure her future than by marrying a wealthy prince. Her father would never have to worry about his debts again.
“You don’t think Lord Valtteri had something to do with this, do you?” I asked, giving voice to my thoughts.
She sipped her wine and seemed to chew on my words. “It’s entirely possible. It’s no secret that he has long desired a union between Oriane and the prince. Those were, after all, his true motives for sending her to live at the castle.”
“He must be overjoyed to have his wishes fulfilled,” I muttered, still puzzling over everything I’d learned. Something niggled at me, but like a mosquito in a dark room, it evaded me. It was just as maddening.
Shortly afterwards, I polished off the remainder of my wine and excused myself. I appreciated Livia’s advice, but I wanted to be alone. I needed to think about what I would say to Tarben. And, more importantly, what I was going to do next.
***
As soon as I returned to my bedchamber, I sent word to Tarben that I needed to speak with him. Then, with bated breath, I waited. And waited.