The Spoils of Allsveil: Dark Heart Heroes #2 (9 page)

10 - Goththor

My plan went exceedingly well. I’d taken a gamble hoping Darrin’s congeniality and his marriage to the original Allsveil monarchy would heal the tides of resentment rising from the merchants and noble born. All was not forgotten, but people understood money.
Offer the middle class a stable environment to sell their wares, and maintain the status quo for the nobles, and they were happy. Happy meant complacent. It was a state I used to despise in others, but it now looked appealing.

Fighting with
Brie for so long made peace seem a worthwhile goal. I knew that sooner or later our fights would begin anew. But now I had Aighta’s knowledge. If I kept my temper, I could use that knowledge to soothe my wife.

Merchants of every
station of wealth filled the halls, curious as to what the new liege had to offer. My wife gallivanted among them, cooing at their jewels or dress, and generally making friends within a populace that had the potential to hate her.

Gods-be-damned
, she was brave. I was lucky to have her here, smoothing the wrinkles of my uncouth ways. Brie had come to our son’s bridal reception in a different dress than the one worn at the wedding, and therefore I hadn’t seen her in what she wore now. I was shocked and confused by her choice in wardrobe. It looked as if she hadn’t washed the red dress I’d splattered on her weeks ago. The stains were still there. I sought out Aighta and cornered her along a pillar near the door.

“Why is she wearing that dress?” I shot a glance at
Bridgette.

Aighta frowned and looked over. “What’s wrong with her dress?”

“Don’t act innocent with me. I know how you ladies talk when you’re alone.”

Aighta straightened and raised her chin. “Except
Bridgette doesn’t.”

I snorted, playing off the sneer I wanted to give. “You mean to tell me the two of you don’t discuss the size of my penis or what position we do it in?”

Aighta shook her head. “She shoves my own words back at me, telling me you wouldn’t appreciate it, and that’s usually the end of that line of conversation.”

Pride swelled in my chest. A sense of trust and gratefulness for my lady repaired the foreboding I’d had when I’d seen the two chatting in the afternoons.
I wasn’t going to enlighten Aighta about the dress, but I couldn’t understand why Brie wore it now. Subtle things only confuse me. Was it an adornment to make me feel abashed? If she wanted that, mocking me in public with words would have had better effect.

Bridgette
stood in the middle of the room, soaking in the merchants’ attentions as a flower soaks in the rays of the sun. One lady of distinguished value, jewels dripping down her dress, pointed to Bridgette and said, “My dear, that is a lovely dress, but it seems to be stained.”

Glancing to see if I was listening,
Bridgette curved a smile I was sure was meant for me. “No, duchess, it’s part of the decor and beauty of the dress. These are not stains, they are part of the maker’s artistry and are there on purpose.”

“Oh!” The jewel-dripping duchess pulled back. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend. I’ve never seen such a pattern.”

Bridgette smiled so wide her beauty caught my breath. “No offense taken. It’s a trend I encourage all the ladies to wear.”

I scrunched my lips to keep from laughing
. Tears welled in my eyes. I turned from Aighta and breathed deep to collect myself.

“Aiden,” Lady Tyilasuir whispered so softly I near missed my name. “Are you alright?”

I shook my head. It seemed Bridgette was toying with me. The kind of wonderful playing that set my blood on fire and my lifted my cock to a whole new level of granite hardness. This was our secret. Something we had together. Another story to laugh over in bed. 

11 - Alexia

How does one go about mending a wall that is so irreparably
damaged? How do you trust the fortification once it’s been breached? I’d broken something within my husband. He no longer smiled, no longer walked with ease or lazy precision. Instead, he watched everything and everyone with a suspicious eye. I’d done that. Me. I couldn’t say how I knew, but it was me who’d taken everything from him. The knowledge cleared my mind of the murderous haze once gripping my motives. I was not normally that person. Would Father, the man who loved everyone, be proud of me for holding this spite in my heart?

Yes, I’d wanted
Darrin’s death, but I could not think of a more cruel fate than living in a strange land, never to go home, and being forced to make his home in enemy territory with a wife who didn’t particularly like him. His father and mother would be leaving soon. Leaving him to rule.

Perhaps his father put him in charge because Darrin was surrounded by enemies. It would keep Darrin from trying to leave Allsveil, thus preventing an in-house upheaval. Smart on King Goththor’s part. A man too busy defending himself from everyone in his home
including his wife didn’t have the resources to attack other kingdoms.

My father had been happy.
He’d been, for the most part, safe with a family who was loyal and loving. What did Darrin have? But how could I mend this hole in my heart? Like father, like daughter. I
had been
unwilling to negotiate. Mother was right, living in hate would consume my soul, tarnish the Tyilasuir name and ostracize me from my people. So, to mend a broken heart I would start with civility. If I could be civil to Darrin, it was a start of the path back to the person my father loved. Back to the person I wanted to be. 

I leaned over my tower’s windowsill and watched the builders reconstruct the broken wall. I’d thought stone couldn’t be repaired, but Allsveil and Dreshall masons, working together, repaired every crack and replaced every toppled
brick. The feat gave me hope that someday, I could forgive my husband, understand that Darrin was only protecting his father during the battle. My husband was fighting for the one he loved at the time. Darrin succeeded in safeguarding his father, if I were him, I wouldn’t be ashamed of the fact either.

A soft knock at my door accompanied my doorman’s voice.
“Lady Alexia, Prince Goththor arrives.”

A thousand butterflies floated in my stomach.
My goal for tact might be too soon. Even with my change of heart, what was I going to say? “Enter.” My voice shook.

The door opened and a
heavy dress boot stepped into my line of sight. Oh, by the seven layers of hell. Darrin had come in his formals and I was not up to par. I straightened and hoped my dignity would mask my casual dress. Cautiously, like a tiger expecting an ambush, Darrin stepped all the way into my room. I’d called for Darrin and he’d come. Apparently, ready for battle. I shouldn’t have expected less, but I was still confused after my failed murder attempt a month ago. Standing to attention in the middle of the room, he obviously wasn’t going to start a conversation.

Taken aback at the handsome sight, I gaped. He was in full commander regalia. His throat was hidden by the stiff lapels of a high waistcoat
, white shirt and pants underneath. I saw how devastatingly handsome he was. If he wasn’t looking at me with cold, hard eyes, I might have swooned. His stare was unyielding but gave no open hostility, an improvement from dead and soulless.

He assessed me as a warrior
, narrowing his eyes looking me up and down checking for weapons, trying to decide what scheme or trap I concocted this time. I’d become a threat to him. Someone he couldn’t trust, and rightly so. My heart pounded, the room now seemed too warm. Living a life surrounded by love, I could not hold that much hate inside. This wrong between us must become right. “You didn’t tell your father.” Surely if he had, I’d have my face torn off and my head separated from my neck by now. Proof there was still a chance for us.

Darrin
drove an icy stare into my eyes and waited long heartbeats before replying. “No. I told your mother.”

I grew lightheaded and the room started to spin. I leaned back and let the wall take my weight.
Darrin shifted, as if to catch me, but remembered himself and remained where he was. A sour taste in my mouth and a heavy dose of reality rushed through me. He’d gone to Mother after he’d left me that night. My face burned. He shouldn’t be going to her.  

“And what did Mother say?” I pasted a smile on my face to guard against the pain in my chest.
He stared at me a good long heart-shattering time.

“That if you couldn’t kill me, then you knew that you were wrong for trying.”

She was right. My heart knew killing Darrin was not the answer, that it would devastate my mother, and blemish a surname that meant love of life. 

Mother had a way of inspiring people to be better than they were.
My eyes pleaded with him to be amiable. I found no solace. I stumbled over words hoping they would be some sort of reconciliation. But, there was no easy out for me. Spying the chess set my father gave me I moved toward it. Darrin stiffened and before I got within arm’s reach of him I turned and went around him to my set.

“Do you play?” I grabbed the tower and fondled the marble piece.

I heard a scoff behind me. “Every night. It’s what I did instead of whoring during a campaign.”

I turned to him. “This was a set
Father gave me for my thirteenth birthday.”

His eyes darkened as he looked at the piece I held out to him. He left my hand in the air and inspected the tower with suspicion. I pulled it back, peeled away the
cork bottom, and revealed the hole dug out from inside. “See. Hollow. Perfect for vials.”

“Ahhh.” Darrin smirked. “I’d wondered how you’d gotten the poison.”

I blushed. “Since you play, you might be good, but not as good as me.”

That earned me a raised brow.
“You sound confident.”

“I
’ve been playing against Paul, and he claims he’s good,” I said.

“Paul has more important things to do than play chess with you.” Darrin did not sound pleased.

“Well, then, join me.” I sat down at my chair.

My father called his guard the Black Knights for all the sour deeds they undertook in the name of justice. A brutal lot. They were the ones who didn’t mind throwing tradition aside and taught a princess swordplay.
The Black Knights also taught me underhanded ruthlessness. They were the men who taught me that real sword fighting wasn’t fair. Something I’d forgotten since the battle of the Eagle and Horse. My fingers molested the black knight and I picked up the piece representing the means justifying the end.

Darrin shifted. “I’m very busy—“

“Please,” I closed my eyes. “I need you to sit and touch the things I love, so that maybe someday, that love will extend to you, if you handle them enough.” My sloppy explanation intrigued him enough to sit.

T
he man that could turn and shattered a wineglass thrown at the back of his head remained at the ready. But a sliver of the old Darrin, the smiling Darrin, came back. Weary hope filled his eyes. “I’ll do it to save Paul the agony of pretending to let you win. But I won’t be as forgiving.”

Sighing
in relief, I opened my eyes and meet his playful teasing. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me you’ll go easy on me to save face when you lose?”

Darrin’s cheeks reddened. He looked thoroughly angry. “Let’s make it interesting then.”

“By all means.”

“Each time a player
loses a piece, they take off piece of clothing.”

My smile broke the tension the rest of my body held. “Only if the one gaining the piece chooses which article of clothing comes off.”

“Done.” That smile and those eyes lit up and had me curious as to what I’d gotten into.

Out of habit I removed the
cork under the black knight piece and peeked. There was a scrap of paper inside. Fishing the tiny scroll out, I unrolled it.

“What does it say?” Darrin watched me with those hooded eyes.

The paper curled back up as I handed the message to him. “I’ve no idea what it means.”

Darrin read the writing aloud. “Four King Fieron.”

His eyes pinned me to my chair. “Is this code or a misspelling?”

My eyes were wide. “I don’t even know who it’s from.”

He scowled.

“It can’t be from the old king’s guard
,” I said. “I watched them all die.”

“Still—very curious.”

“Curious that you’re trying to evade playing chess with me.”

A small grin, a true one, appeared. “We’ll set this aside for now. Make your move.”

I did. He’d learn that I was not some high-born, privileged princess that thought everyone had to lay their noses to the ground and let me have my way. Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. High-born, yes. Privileged, in some cases. But cuts and bruises were part of my upbringing and I was more a servant to my people than a noble who socialized in the highest circles.

Darrin
moved and I set up to block him. Then he took my pawn, a move that left his bishop wide open. “You’re much worse a player than Paul,” I said. “Don’t you know I’ll take your bishop next? At this rate you’ll be in checkmate in five rounds.”

“I’m counting on it.” He leaned forward. “Take off your
hair comb.”

He held
his hand out. I slipped the stick free and handed it to him. He stared at me with his hand still in the air.

I took his bishop and said, “Take off your boots.”

Darrin settled back. “That’s two items.”

“Fine. One boot then.”

The old Darrin, the one with the bright smile that consumed his entire face, slowly returned. His next move was just as stupid as the other, but he took another piece. “Off with the surcoat.”

Slipping my arms through the holes I handed it to him. “You’re not playing to win, are you?”

Relieving me of my outerwear, Darrin laughed. “Depends on what you mean by ‘win.’”

I pressed my hand against my chest. “Oh.”

He was trying to undress me—us, and I was falling into his trap. His devil’s grin confirmed it. Sitting primly upon my seat, I changed my tactics. If that was his game, I’d meet him every step of the way. Choosing carefully, I moved and took his knight, making sure he couldn’t claim any of my pieces. “Your other boot.”

Darrin pulled his
heavy dress boot off with a flourish. “What are you smiling about?”

Pointing to his toes I said, “You’re barefoot.
No socks?”

“You find that funny?” He
looked at the board and moved a pawn.

“Why yes, I do.” I played into what he thought would trap me and took another game
-crippling piece. “Coat please.”

He handed it to me and it felt as if we’d been helping each other out of our clothes for years.

“You’re very good at this,” he said, after I’d taken his waistcoat, baldric, sword, and belt. I still had on my dress, belt, and shoes. I’d only lost my underthings and a hairpin.

I swiped his other knight off the board. “Tunic.”

Not bothering to get up, Darrin pulled his shirt over his head and there before my eyes was a half-naked man—a muscular, pale, gorgeous man sitting in nothing but pants. The muscles of his shoulder bunched when he leaned forward and set his garment on the pile next to my chair. I had no idea muscles were corded. Relaxed but aware, I flipped my hair behind me and Darrin tracked the motion with a hunter’s eye. It made me wonder if I was still playing into his hands. If I could gain the king piece, I could end this madness. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

“I like how you squirm in your chair.” Darrin
lounged without any compunction about his manners. His hips were thrust out and enticing. My mind went completely blank.

Darrin sat up. “My turn.”

Those words sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His next move surrendered a piece to me while taking one of mine. “Skirt,” he whispered.

I wore two under my dress. “Which one?”

“The one closest to your skin.” Darrin swallowed and gritted his teeth. His heavy breathing made me nervous.

Rising to my feet, I pulled up the lower part of my dress and the skirt just beneath to expose the blue underskirt. Darrin’s attention felt
as intense as the summer heat. He took the hard-won prize with delicacy and reverence. Balling the skirt, he buried his nose into it and inhaled deeply as a drowning man coming up for air. The intimacy of his gesture forced my eyes away.

On the board
Darrin had left me only two options. I could place him in check and stop the game or take his queen and remove the last item of clothing he had on. Only a genius could have backed me into a corner like this. “You
are
better than Paul,” I whispered.

Wary
dark eyes watched me. His expression remained neutral while I contemplated my next move. The corded stomach muscles disappearing under the top seam of his pants made my decision. I slid my rook and took his queen off the board. His eyes lit with dawning appreciation and a slow predatory smile crossed his lips.