“I think you could be that to me,” he said.
Was this real? Was Doran Arvel pouring his heart out to me? Couldn’t be.
“What about your second cousin?” I asked.
He glanced in her direction, then back at me. “Ah, Eliarde. My apologies for her rudeness. She and I will speak.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He just loaded so much cold disdain into the words, I almost shivered. It sobered me right up.
“She is under the impression that your match is assured.”
“There are two wars fought in this kingdom,” Arvel said. “One that requires blades and armor and the other that demands subtlety and understanding the currents of power. My cousin has chosen her battlefield, and on it she is spectacular. Relentless, courageous, and formidable. However, I require more.”
“Oh? But her military achievements are second to none.”
He nodded. “So she tells me. In great detail. Repeatedly.”
Oh, Eliarde.
“A few weeks ago, she brought up the curious notion of ‘enhancing’ my bloodline through a union.”
What? “But you’re already an Arvel.”
He sighed. “Indeed, I am. Once again, you understand me perfectly.”
In Rellasian terms, Doran Arvel was the pinnacle of what a man could achieve. He had gotten a great head start with an ancient pedigree, wealth, and hereditary magic, but he also worked very hard at surpassing expectations. His martial skills were unmatched. He wasn’t just admired, he was renowned for his competency, valor, and general awesomeness, and he wielded that reputation like a weapon. And to top it off, he was so handsome and charming he probably needed to carry a shield wherever he went to keep an entire generation of women from pouncing on him in the street.
“It isn’t arrogance on my part,” he said. “I bring this up only to show you that Eliarde doesn’t understand my needs. Because of who I am and my achievements, my bride’s background doesn’t matter. No matter who she was before, when I slide a ring on her finger, she will become Lady Arvel, and our children will be the heirs of Arvel.”
You couldn’t climb higher unless you sat on the throne. By telling him that she could enhance his bloodline, Eliarde showed a complete lack of awareness of where he stood. She hadn’t just crossed her name off the potential bride list, she had taken a big black permanent marker and obliterated it.
“My wife doesn’t need to be a skilled knight,” Arvel said. “I’m happy to bear that burden. Her battlefield will be here, in Kair Toren. She will be a woman who can carry a conversation, a woman who is sharp, who understands the power landscape and knows when to stab and when to withdraw. A woman to whom I will entrust my soul and the future of my Family.”
And that wasFamilywith a capitalF. Right.
“You have an entire room of astute, smart women to choose from.” I nodded at the crowd around us. “Perhaps the future Lady Arvel is watching us right now.”
“She isn’t.”
We took a step apart from each other and closed the distance again. The third movement. That stupid left turn was coming up.
“How do you know?”
He leaned a little closer to me. His blue eyes were dark and tinted with humor. “When I was younger, I thoroughly explored my options.”
“You worked your way through the eligible ladies of Kair Toren?”
“Yes.” His smile was sinful. That was the only word for it.
We backed away and came together again.
“It was great fun in the beginning. Eventually, though, I grew bored. I kept looking for someone special and not finding her. Until now.”
I needed to nip this in the bud.
“I’m no one special, my lord.”
I raised my hand.
