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  DARK ONE’S

  BRIDE

  DARK ONE’S TRILOGY - BOOK 2

  Aldrea Alien

  Thardrandian Publications

  Copyright © 2019 by Aldrea Alien

  ––––––––

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  http://www.aldreaalien.com

  Book and Cover design by Aldrea Alien

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Free Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The carriage clattered and wobbled down the road, forcing Clara to set aside her embroidery or be pricked. Once again, she was reminded of a certain talk she needed to have with the Citadel’s blacksmith about his laxity on carriage maintenance. Still, as she sat there, quietly suffering the jarring in her spine, she noticed the bumps were too even and numerous to be potholes.

  Cobblestones. And that had to mean they’d entered another city. Were they finally in Endlight?

  She peered out the window. Buildings filled her view in a shock of off-white and red, a relief from the mottled browns and greens of the autumn countryside. In style, the brick and plaster-covered buildings looked no different to the countless others she’d seen in her journey. Nothing to suggest they’d reached anything but another cluster of shops and homes.

  Clara pressed her cheek against the glass, straining to see everything her narrow vantage point afforded her. It was a manner very much unsuited to the future Great Lady, but she cared not a whit.

  She’d done a lot of reading up on the kingdom’s larger cities. Endlight sat on the doorstep of seven gargantuan pillars. If she could just see the skyline, then maybe…

  People lined the road, busy with their lives of work or begging or just plain keeping back from the Great Lord’s black carriage. Nothing different about them to give away where they were. It was oddly disappointing. For years, anything beyond her home village of Everdark had seemed so exotic, but the journey here had swiftly shown her how wrong she’d been.

  With every mile they travelled, she had hoped Endlight would prove different.

  Sighing, Clara flopped back into the seat. She wanted to hammer on the roof and demand the driver reveal their present destination. Only the stranglehold she kept on her impatience stopped her. That and Lucias’ men took it upon themselves to ignore her completely unless it conflicted with the Great Lord’s wishes. She would be having words with him about that. She’d honestly thought the soulless men would treat her differently than they’d done before she had saved Lucias’ life.

  She frowned at the empty seats gracing the other side of the carriage. They had slowed, caught up in traffic by the sounds of it, and the jolting turned to an uneven rocking that always threatened to pitch her forward. Bracing herself with a hand on either side of the carriage was the only way to stop the dreadful jostling.

  Perhaps it would take their wedding for her status to be recognised amongst the Great Lord’s men. Or maybe her authority over them would be little more than words until she was pregnant with the next Great Lord.

  Her stomach fluttered at the thought of carrying a child to term. She wasn’t even halfway through her seventeenth year, was she truly ready for motherhood? What if she was just like her own mother? Clara bit her lip, her cheek tingling with the memory of the last time she’d spoken to the woman who had given birth to her.

  “No,” she muttered into the silence. She’d never subject a child to that. She would be far more compassionate to her children than her mother had ever been to her. More like her father. Stern but loving.

  Of course, that all depended on her husband remaining in her presence long enough for more than chaste kisses. She may not have a full understanding of the act, but she knew how children were made even if her face heated at the mere thought of him… and her… Please, Goddess, give me strength. She would need all the willpower she could muster in order to get through the coming week with her nerves intact.

  Shadows fell across the carriage, drawing her back to the window. A large building dominated the world beyond the smoky glass. The view of huge grey slabs of stone remained unchanged for some time. Too long to be a gateway. Some sort of internal fortification?

  Her heart leapt. That meant a city big enough to warrant a castle.

  They had arrived at Endlight.

  Lucias would be waiting for her, of that she was certain. My darling. To be able to see his face again, to hear his voice…

  Unable to contain her excitement, Clara hugged herself and beat the heels of her boots against the bench’s base, uncaring in how childlike such abandon seemed. After three months of his absence, her dear husband-to-be was so close now.

  She’d spent weeks wishing for his return, even if it was only for a few days. Had wished harder that he had hadn’t left her behind to begin with. The Citadel had been colder without his presence. It’d been agony seeing him go, being forced to wait out the time apart wondering how he fared nearer the border.

  Of course, he never turned up no matter how hard she wished. There was no practicality behind him making the trip down from Endlight only to come back weeks later for their wedding, but it still would’ve been nice to receive a letter. How hard could it be to send a pigeon? Or maybe he hadn’t the time. Part of the reason he’d left so far in advance of her was to deal with the court.

  The heavy, iron-bound planks of a gate briefly altered the scenery visible through the window before the view opened out into the bustling centre of a castle courtyard. Clara flattened her cheek against the glass and searched the crowd for any sign of Lucias, her heart pounding.

  Nothing.

  She returned to her seat, softly chiding herself under her breath. Lucias had more important things to do than wait for the exact moment of her arrival. He could be out patrolling with the troops. And whilst Endlight was considered a border city, the true edge of the kingdom was close to half a day’s ride from the city. If he was up there, then he wouldn’t learn of her arrival until much later.

  And we are to be married soon. Just a week left to her now and she would be able to call him her husband. She could weather a few more hours before seeing him again.

  The dreadful swaying slowed. Then, at last, they came to a halt. The carriage rocked further as the driver stepped down and several thuds on the carriage wall at her back spoke of her luggage being removed from the storage rack above.
r />   Clara hastened to smooth her skirts, gave up and focused on her sleeves. She was dressed from head to toe in rich black silk. The hems and sleeves were heavy with grey embroidery, dark echoes of the Great Lord’s fiery symbol.

  Content that everything was presentable, she sat on the edge of her seat and waited for someone to open the carriage door, all the while desperately fighting the urge to do it herself.

  The latch clicked and the door swung out into the bustle beyond.

  “Clara?” Tommy called. Her page stood by the door, his sweet face pulled into a puzzled frown as she failed to all but leap from the carriage as she’d done during the last few stops.

  No matter how much she longed to see everything, there was a certain code of conduct she would have to adhere to. At least, according to the books she’d unearthed in the Citadel’s dusty library.

  Without thought, her hand slid to the small sheathed dagger nestled in the laces of her bodice. Her fingers had barely secured themselves around the crosspiece by the time she became aware of the action. Silly girl, she chided, carefully relinquishing her hold. There was no danger to be had here.

  Still, her stomach fluttered as she sidled closer to the exit. This wasn’t like the inns of the tiny villages and hamlets they’d stopped at on their way here. Lucias was adamant that all of the kingdom’s nobility would be here for their wedding, for who wouldn’t want to witness the first time a Great Lord had married in centuries?

  A nomadic wedding. She’d memorised the words she must speak, but it was like the times her family used to visit the temple. Speaking and understanding seemed very far off. Perhaps Lucias would be able to explain the significance behind some of the more puzzling phrases. He, of all people, wouldn’t want her looking like a fool in front of everyone.

  Here we go. Steeling herself, Clara stepped out into the courtyard.

  The surrounding men paid more attention to the chests they manhandled off the carriage than her presence. No one beyond Tommy seemed to notice her at all. Even then, he paused only long enough to give her a bow before trotting off to the head of the horses. No other man was allowed to unhitch them whilst in his presence. His voice was lost in the collective noise, but she could see his mouth moving as he explained the horses’ needs in great detail.

  She turned to eye her transport. Alone, the bleak plainness of the Great Lord’s carriage would garner little attention. That’d been the point of travelling in it, after all. She supposed those escorting her could likewise come from any post harbouring the Great Lord’s men.

  Was she so easy to overlook?

  A strand of her hair waved in the breeze and tickled her nose. She went to tuck it behind her ear, jerking her hand away as her gloved fingers rustled against cloth. Of course, she’d been covering up her rather unmistakable rich red hair since leaving the Citadel. It’d been the last word of caution she’d heard from Lucias.

  To think she once would’ve thought such prudence as paranoia, but even in the heart of the kingdom, there was no telling who could turn out to be an enemy.

  Surely it was safe to show her true self here. Lucias would not have chosen to have them wed in a place which wasn’t secure.

  She unwound the scarf, shaking her head and discreetly rubbing at her sweat-soaked scalp. Even this did not draw the attention she was hoping. Clara glanced over her shoulder, the unmarked carriage stood empty. The men who’d unloaded her things had dispersed.

  A fine reception for the future Great Lady. Well, if no one was going to greet her, she might as well make her own way inside and to whatever room they’d reserved for her arrival.

  She strode off towards a set of stairs leading up to what was certainly the castle’s main entrance.

  A group of women appeared through the wide, arched doorway as she reached the bottom step. They halted at the top, staring down at her with such intensity that she froze at the bottom of the stairs as if she were back to being a child of seven years caught fiddling with her mother’s sewing machine.

  Clara resisted the urge to shuffle her feet as the group descended. Closer and she could make out the distinct bulge of pregnancy distorting several of the women’s gowns.

  One such woman, with a faint tinge of grey in her otherwise brown hair, appeared close to giving birth. Was she a servant? The simple dress of green and muted gold certainly suggested such. Or perhaps she was a maid to one of the noblewomen she walked alongside?

  Clara peered at the other women, before returning her gaze to the green and gold garbed woman. The way she carried herself was at odds with the modest cut of her clothes.

  The heavily-pregnant woman halted before her. Dark brown eyes—a shade that was echoed in the roots of her hair—surveyed Clara with a sharpness that banished all thought of this woman being anyone’s servant. Could this be Thad’s wife? She looked to be in her early forties. If that were so, then she’d grossly misjudged the Endlight lord’s age.

  The woman smiled and clasped Clara’s forearm. “You must be Clarabelle,” she said as the rest of the group surrounded them. “Your hair is exactly as he described it.”

  Clara eyed the pregnant woman. Her skin was the soft brown she’d heard was common of those born along the eastern border of the kingdom, where the land slipped beneath the sea. The woman’s nose was proud and held high even though she appeared at ease. She must enquire as to whether this was indeed Thalia.

  “Amazing,” another woman murmured, fingering a deep red curl of Clara’s hair without even a by your leave. “So bright and rich.”

  “Is it?” Clara muttered as she cast a wary eye over the women encircling her. She timidly laid a hand upon her bosom, her fingers inching towards the dagger. The men down in the village of Darkwood had learnt the hard way that Clara no longer suffered being hemmed in. Where was Brenna? She thought a woman with her ambitions would prefer to linger with the other noblewomen, but she couldn’t spy the young woman’s pale face amongst the group.

  “We’ve heard so much about you,” the pregnant woman breathed. Her arm linked with Clara’s, wordlessly steering her up the stairs. She clung like a stray dog to her last morsel. Was the woman expecting Clara to sprint off upon her release? “Our dear Great Lord speaks of little else.”

  He does? Clara smiled to herself.

  “Of course,” the woman continued, seemingly paying no heed to Clara. “Our Great Lord is out on patrol at the moment. That boy never seems to want to stay still for long. May the Goddess protect him, his wedding day is so near and he insists on joining the common guards for a trip around the city limits. It must be nerves, my son was the same.” She patted Clara’s arm. “But he’ll be in for the evening meal.”

  The thought of Lucias putting himself in such a dangerous position knotted Clara’s stomach. All the easy passages through the mountains were guarded, with the widest gorge emptying out at the foot of the legendary Pillars of Endlight, but accidents happened and the loss of Lucias’ life endangered the whole kingdom.

  The shadow of the castle fell over them as they passed beneath the arch of the entrance. Much like the Citadel, the doorway opened out into a huge entrance that branched off into smaller hallways and winding stairs.

  “You must want to freshen up after such a journey,” the woman continued. “I’ll see that the servants prepare your room. I trust you didn’t have much trouble on the roads here.”

  “None at all.” But then, the roads wouldn’t have posed a problem even if she chose to go without an armed escort. It was the villages along the way that tended to offer up trouble. She opened her mouth to speak further before the woman could—

  The clatter of hooves echoed through the courtyard, drowning out every noise bar one. “Clara!”

  Lucias. She spun at the voice, pulling herself free of the woman’s arm. He was here! So soon? He must have seen the carriage arrive.

  She tried to make her way back to the courtyard. The other women barred her way, their bustling only adding to their impediment. She bit back
a snarl. If they would merely stay still for a moment, then she’d already be through.

  The racket grew louder. Standing on her toes to peer over the women, she spied a massive black horse barrelling through the gates, foam flying off its flanks. The beast slid to a stop before a footman, its hindquarters mere inches from the flagstones.

  Lucias leapt from the saddle before the panting animal could finish righting itself. He raced towards the group.

  She squeezed her way between the remaining women, almost tumbling down the stairs, to meet him halfway across the courtyard. Clara flung her arms around him and sagged against his chest. After three months without his presence, it felt unbelievably good to hold him again.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his breath warming more than her ear. He brushed his thumb across her jaw, coaxing her head up. His lips sought out hers, hungrily claiming them.

  Her legs shook. Everything else faded from her thoughts. Her hands slid up his back, curling over his shoulders.

  Someone clicked their tongue, attempting to make little tsk-tsk noises between chuckles.

  The pregnant woman in green and gold shuffled between them, her belly forging the path. “Now, now, my lord.” She batted Lucias away as if he was a child forbidden to touch the Feast Day sweets and, much to Clara’s surprise, he stepped back. Although he still kept a firm grip on Clara’s hand. This woman definitely had to be Thalia. “She’s just arrived. Give your lady a chance to freshen up before you ravish her.”

  Lucias grinned, his eyes seeming to glitter as they alighted on Clara’s face. “But of course, my lady, and I must return to my duties.” After so many months apart, taking in his features afresh had Clara easily spotting the subtle lines that could only mean a consistent lack of sleep. “I simply had to see my beloved before tonight. I trust your journey was uneventful.”