II. Dráiden Kaldor
He knew he wasn’t a looker, and he knew women whispered behind closed doors. He was hideous with an incurable case of foul breath, but that didn’t mean he was a fool. Dráiden gazed at his future wife with a sense of satisfaction. At least she stood firm and masked whatever ill-begotten thoughts she might be thinking behind an expressionless face. Most women produced a shudder at the very least. This one will stay. I can feel it.
The fingers of his right hand twitched. She’s holding her breath. Had he forgotten to chew on mint leaves!? He had been so sure that everything was ready…Dráiden extended his arm towards his betrothed. It’s no matter. She would have found out anyway. Better I know her reactions now than find out later…
“Ride with me,” he said with a soft smile. “I’ll show you your new home.”
…
“My lord…My beloved,” his lovely Luthandra started. She was still in the traveling dress he had sent her, and her pale face was traced with lines of exhaustion. She frowned. Her brows made a cute dimple when they scrunched the way they did. She doesn’t want to offend me! Something in his gut fluttered. Women liked to mistake his unsightly appearance for cowardice and ignorance. They underestimated him. Always.
“Forgive me if I am speaking out of place, but I am not yet Lady Kaldor, and I-” She stopped before the gilded chair beside his throne. Her pale fingers did not flinch as her eyes studied the intricate rose petals carved into the wood. His mother had sat in that chair, and her mother before her…
“You will sit in the empty throne beside my own,” he said before she could stammer her beauty away. “Life can be rough here, and you will soon be Lady of this place. There are times when Duty calls me elsewhere,” he smiled and gazed at her. She blushed, but complied and sat down. Her skirts swished in all the right ways as she moved.
Luthandra’s fingers twitched on the armrests. She’s young. Remember that, Dráiden. She’ll get used to this. “An unfortunate emergency has arisen. I am most sorry for this. I promise that we will feast when it is over.”
“As you wish, my lord,” she bowed her head, and none too soon. The doors to the throne room swung open. One of his wardens came rushing in, his chainmail clinking and slinking with his strides. The man went to one knee before speaking.
“We’ve caught him, and he told us where he hid the boy.” Kaldor twirled the hair on his chin and waited. “The rumors….are true. My men were able to get it out of him…”
“Then he will be punished accordingly. Fit him with a collar and bring him to the courtyard.” He glanced over at his groom, his chief servant. “Fetch me Arrowheart.” Preston bowed his head before shifting from his position below the tapestries that hung to Dráiden’s right.
Dráiden rose, his thick, velvet clothing rustling with his movement. “Ready my horse, one for my betrothed, and five men. I’ll bring the boy back myself. It was I who put that man in charge of Helenion’s Citadel for the Gifted.”
…
He walked arm in arm with Luthandra along the dimly lit halls of his castle. Darkness had replaced the bright sun which had brought her to him. He hoped she liked the suite he had set aside for her. A fire in a homely fireplace was waiting for her. Her handmaiden, he knew, would be there to bathe her in the warm bath his servants had readied.
He stopped when they came to the rosewood doors of her suite. Whatever artist had carved the thousand flowers in the ancient wood had died eons ago, and some wondered if the person was even Man at all.
He placed his hands onto her shoulders, gently turning her so that he could look at her. Circles weighed her eyes down, and she couldn’t hide the frown on her face with one of her polite smiles. He cupped her chin.
“I know that wasn’t what you expected, my sweet,” he purred. She stiffened and regarded him in silence. The frown on her face twitched, but she said nothing. “You did well today. Your riding skills are commendable, and the way you handled the child when we pulled him from the cave…” he paused. No. That isn’t what is bothering her, and you know it. It seemed that Arel had sheltered his daughter from the bloodier parts of lordship. The fool.
“I’m the one who carried out the sentence, and thus it was me who had to do the final deed.”
“I,” she started, he ran his finger over her cheek. “I know. Never trust a lord who hires and hides behind a masked executioner.” Her town was weary, and he knew that she was tired, but–
He kissed her.
He kissed her hard.
His tongue ruled her mouth while his hands brought her close to his body so that he could feel her soft form against his. Dráiden broke away when he felt her weaken. She is exhausted…leave her be. It took great restraint to let go of her and open the doors to her chamber.
“Goodnight, Luthandra,” he whispered. She bowed her head, her sandy hair hiding her face.
“Goodnight,” she whimpered. “I…fear…I’m…too tired…” He let the heavy door fall shut behind her.
Dráiden headed for his own chambers across the large hall which joined the two master suites. He drifted in a mindless daze until he was standing at his favorite balcony. It was a secluded place. It was his thinking spot…And brooding post. His eyes fell over the garden below.
The moon was a crescent sliver, barely bathing Westridge in any light at all. Still, he could see twinges of its soft glow reflecting off of the water trickling from the fountain. A hooded figure approached it, throwing back its cloak to reveal the face of a handsome elf.
Something within Dráiden’s chest tightened. I hate it when Ciallmhar’s people come waltzing around here as if they own the place. He turned. Though his relationship with the elves was neutral, he couldn’t help but be jealous. Elves were never unsightly. No. I will not ruin such a fine day as this! Closing his eyes, he focused on the day’s events. Finally a woman who won’t shudder at the sight of me or try to overstep her place because I am ugly. He sighed, rubbed his head, and went into his chambers.
