Chapter 16
AUREN
The fire has burned down to embers as dawn begins to approach. Instead of sleeping in my own tent, I slept outside of hers. I wanted Vivienne to feel safe, and I wanted to make sure I was close enough to hear her if she needed anything.
Last night, I felt the strange pull again through our bond. It was the same as when she had her nightmare at the inn, but when I asked, she denied having any bad dreams. And yet… I know what I felt, and I cannot quiet my concern.
Goblins are powerful beings and I dislike the idea of their magic being able to touch her in her sleep.
Sighing heavily, I run a hand roughly through my hair, trying to push my thoughts aside.
We’re wed. The bargain has been settled.
And perhaps I’m wrong… maybe what I sensed wasn’t the result of some sort of dark magic, but simply her fear of the forest. Vivienne has never camped before, and it’s only natural that she’d be afraid.
The unknown can be terrifying for anyone.
Her worry about the woods is not entirely unfounded. I’m used to camping, but I also know the night can hide any manner of things, and I’m thankful for Vaelen’s presence.
He emerged from her tent less than an hour ago. Even now, I sense he is somewhere just beyond the firelight, patrolling the perimeter.
My blade rests across my knees, but my attention is fixed on the pale stretch of canvas that shelters my wife. I considered waking her before dawn to get an early start on our travels, but yesterday was a bit difficult for her, though she will never admit it.
She learned how to set up camp and start a fire, while masking her fear of the forest behind sharp words and the stubborn tilt of her chin. Given her worry, I was pleased when she was finally able to sleep through the night. She trusted me and Vaelen to stand between her and the darkness.
The tent flap stirs and I look up as Vivienne steps outside. She appears tired, moving slower than usual, stripped of the careful precision she wears like armor. Her silken hair falls unbound around her shoulders in copper waves. She looks softer like this. Unshielded.
“You’re awake,” she says.
“I am guarding.”
She arches a brow. “That doesn’t require staring at my tent.”
“It does if I am guarding you,” I reply with a slight grin.
She huffs, folding her arms, but she does not retreat back inside. Instead, she crosses the small space between us and lowers herself carefully onto the ground beside me, her back resting against the log, drawing her knees to her chest. “Thank you,” she says a bit hesitantly.
Hope sparks. This is progress. “How did you sleep?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway to encourage more conversation.
“I’ve slept better.” She arches a brow. “And I certainly would have had a more comfortable night in an inn.”
I chuckle. “You’re lucky I’m not an Orc. Many of their clans are nomadic. They live in tents all year round.”
She gives me a deadpan look. “I would simply die.”
I laugh.
“Did you sleep?” she asks.
“A few hours.” I shrug. “I do not require much.”
“That’s unnatural,” she mutters.
“Or efficient.”
She rolls her eyes, though I believe it’s more for show than anything else, judging by the way her lips twitch slightly.
“Do you want anything to eat?” I ask. “Or maybe some tea?”
“Not yet.” She turns her attention to the fire, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her shawl. “You asked me something yesterday,” she says finally. “About marriage.”
I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on my knees. “I did.”
Silence stretches between us before she lifts her gaze back to mine. “I told you part of the reason I didn’t want to marry, but not all of it,” she says, voice quiet but steady.
I study her lovely face in the dim light, noting the faint crease between her brows. “What is the rest of it?”
She hesitates. And for the first time since I’ve known her, she doesn’t answer immediately.
“I wanted to see more of the world.” She lifts her gaze to the tree line.
“I’ve never left Aryndale before this journey.
My parents traveled constantly when we were young, and they would always take us with them.
Short trips within the kingdom, but still… I treasured them.”
Vivienne swallows hard. “But then my mother died in childbirth. I was eight and Aldric was eleven.” She looks down at her hands. “My father didn’t withdraw from us. Instead, he loved us more… watched us more. And he made sure to keep us close.”
She shakes her head. “Aldric and I became deathly ill on one of our trips.” She sighs. “When you lose someone you love, there is always a before and after.”
I understand that truth more intimately than I wish to.
Vivienne continues. “And because he’d so recently lost Mother, he was terrified when he nearly lost us as well.”
“Aldric had to travel with him, since he’d be king someday, but I wasn’t allowed to come along anymore. He insisted I remain at the castle to protect me.” She gives a quiet, humorless breath of laughter. “And he gilded my cage so beautifully I almost forgot it was one.”
Cage. The word settles in my chest like a heavy stone.
“I didn’t want to trade one prison for another. That’s why I rejected every suitor that sought my hand.”
And there is the truth of it. She didn’t refuse the idea of marriage because of vanity or cruelty, but because she feared control and confinement. “I see,” I murmur.
She studies me a moment before continuing. “If my own father, who has loved me unconditionally since I was born, could restrict my freedoms, what might a husband do?”
I’ve never wanted anything as much as I desire her. But I want her to choose me freely. And to do that, I must give her something her father never did. I must give her the freedom to choose.
I meet her gaze evenly so she can see the truth of my words. “I will not cage you, Vivienne. And I will not touch you unless you ask. I only ask that you give me thirty days to prove myself to you. If after that time, you wish to annul our marriage, I will accept your choice.”
Even if she decides to dissolve our marriage, I will do whatever it takes to keep her from the Goblin King’s bargain. Even if she never gives me her heart, I will not see her forced into that fate.
She looks back toward the trees. “What is expected of a Dark Elf wife?”
“Dark Elf women have the same freedoms as men,” I say. “They train. They travel. Some fight. Some study. Some rule beside their mates.”
Her eyes flick back to mine.
“They are not confined to stone walls unless they choose to be.”
“And a soldier’s wife?” she presses.
“As I mentioned before, most live either in special family barracks at their husband’s post, or they choose a home in the nearby villages. Others may choose to live elsewhere, and they visit each other as time permits. But the choice is theirs to make.”
Something akin to hope reflects in her eyes. She exhales slowly, shoulders lowering. “That sounds… different,” she admits.
“Different in a good way?” I ask curiously. “Or bad?”
Her small brow furrows. “I’ll let you know after I’ve given it more thought.”
More thought. The fact that she’s even considering any of this at all is encouraging.
Even as I think this, guilt begins to creep in.
I should tell her who I really am. The truth sits on the tip of my tongue, but if I speak it now, she may pull away before she understands the danger still hanging over her…
before she understands that the Goblin King’s bargain may not be so easily escaped.
And I’m not ready to risk driving her back toward a fate she never wanted.
The sky beyond the trees begins to pale with the promise of dawn. Vaelen emerges from the woods and after greeting me with a gentle snout nudge, he settles next to Vivienne.
She strokes his fur absently as she stares into the flames, yawning several times.
We should leave soon. I’m about to tell her this when I feel her slump against me. I go still as her head rests on my shoulder, her eyes closed in sleep. If I shift even an inch, she will wake and retreat behind her pride again.
My heart clenches as I study her. She trusts me.
And even though I tell myself that my intent is noble…
that my withholding of the truth was to protect her from marrying a monster who would seek to control her and take away her freedom, I cannot silence the worry deep within that when she discovers what I’ve done she may never forgive me.
As she rests so trustingly against me, I remain as still as a statue and decide that we can leave later. She can sleep another hour. The road will still be there. But this fragile moment where she leans without armor, sharp words, or fear… this I will guard.
And as she sleeps, one truth settles heavy and certain in my chest: Even if she doesn’t choose to stay with me, I vow that I will do whatever it takes to make sure she never lives in a cage again.