Page 12 of Ties of Starlight (Tethered Hearts #2)

N yrunn’s wife was the most mysterious woman he’d ever encountered, especially now that she was his wife and not the object of his—in hindsight rather pathetic—pining. His world had been rather turned upside down, and the woman he would have said not long ago that he adored was now a stranger to him. Every interaction he’d ever had with her was no longer obscured by his poor interpretation.

Idonea was a mystery he was determined to solve.

Distance and duty clearly weren’t getting him anywhere. He might as well learn exactly who the woman he was married to was and give up the one he’d had in his head. The one in his head certainly didn’t call him cruel or flinch away from him.

If he wanted to even have just an amicable relationship with his wife, he needed to get to the bottom of her secrets. Of one thing about Idonea, Nyrunn was certain.

She was hiding something.

There's something about her I never figured out, but I know it's wrong .

The letter stayed with Nyrunn even though at this point he had every hateful word memorized. He was loath to give any credence to anything Olaug had written, but there might be a hint of truth to that one. “Wrong” probably wasn’t the correct word, but there was something about Idonea that didn’t make sense.

Unfortunately, it was near impossible to observe her when he had to ride at the front, and she always rode at the back.

He couldn’t exactly just sit backwards in the saddle without making what he was doing obvious. Now that the Constella had finished his work catching him up on everything he needed to know, he’d fallen to the middle of the group, leaving Nyrunn and Frode at the front with a few guards slightly ahead of them.

Halfway through the morning, Frode said, “So, how is married life treating you, Your Majesty?”

It was like Frode lived to test Nyrunn’s patience but simultaneously also lived in fear of it ever snapping.

“If you’re fishing for a ‘you were right,’ you’re not getting one.”

“Was I?”

Nyrunn attempted a covert glance over his shoulder. Idonea was still at the back, that same, strange look on her face. Tired. Bored. And… something else. He turned back to face Frode. “After we pause at midday, make an excuse to have Idonea ride at the front.”

Frode shook his head but said, “It shall be done, Your Majesty.”

And it was. As Nyrunn was about to mount his steed, Frode and Idonea were riding up to him. Although Idonea's eyes were narrowed at him. He swung himself up as she said, “Lord Frode is insisting that we must ride side by side in order for the guard formation to best protect us. Is that true, Your Majesty?”

“Your Majesty, I have no idea what I have done to make your wife think so little of me that I could ever lie to her, especially on a matter as serious as her safety.” Frode's dramatic air only had Idonea rolling her eyes. “You must defend my honor to your wife that a lie—no, not even so much as a fib—has ever left these lips.”

Whenever anyone claimed Star Elves were reserved and cold as a hard rule, Nyrunn was always tempted to shove Frode in front of them so they could observe his ridiculous dramatics for themselves.

“Do you have a reason you don't want to ride beside me?” Nyrunn ignored Frode and instead focused on Idonea, looking resplendent as always, her inky-black hair plaited back, just a few pieces framing her face without hiding her ears. If only he could tell her and she believe him. Since he couldn’t, he settled into his saddle and gathered up his reins.

“I like riding toward the back. I always ride toward the back.” She said “always” like it was somehow longer than the few days they'd been traveling.

“You haven't ridden in the front yet; maybe you'll like it better,” Nyrunn said, tapping his heels against his steed and they set out again.

Idonea urged her horse after him, falling into step beside his. “I know what I like, Your Majesty.”

He looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe you'll like something else better, and how will you ever know if you never give it a chance?”

She just lifted her chin and huffed, shifting her gaze to the road in front of them. Frode shot Nyrunn a look that clearly said “I could have told you this was a bad idea” as he fell into his position on Nyrunn's other side .

Nyrunn was content to ride in silence and instead spend the time observing her. At first as they rode, Idonea looked the same as he'd seen before. She looked bored, like she'd seen everything around them a thousand times before. While he couldn’t say the road they were on currently was the most stunning scenery their kingdom had to offer, for a girl who’d lived in Novum her whole life, a forest full of a plethora of plants, green, blue, and purple, including Star Lilies shining and glowing on the ground, it should at least captivate her a little.

But as they rode, though she did look around a few times, usually she looked straight ahead like she wasn't actually seeing anything in front of her. Her head was usually in the clouds—even back in the library, he'd spent plenty of time pretending to read when really he was just staring at her and pining away in silence. She'd always been half-present. Half of her always somewhere else.

Where? Where was she?

Now that he knew how much she was plagued by nightmares, he could only suspect that was either the cause or at least part of the situation. Whatever they were about.

But as they rode, she seemed to actually pay more attention, especially when Frode started to fill the air with irrelevant chatter, glaring at Nyrunn when he did so, probably for not doing it first. But if Nyrunn started talking and started pushing with the questions he wanted answered, then Idonea's suspicions he'd arranged this would be confirmed. So he kept his silence as Idonea occasionally engaged with Frode, mostly with short replies to break up his monologues about the most inconsequential things. At one point, Frode rambled on for half an hour just recounting Agnarr and Gytha’s story, as if every Star Elf hadn’t heard it a thousand times in their childhood alone .

Then Frode spent the next half an hour discussing how much he was looking forward to witnessing the comet and how amazing it was to be able to see it in his lifetime and be present for all the rituals.

Nyrunn didn't really care about that, but he did care about the way Idonea was nodding along up until Frode said, “Of course, the Heava Dance at the ruins is next, so it's all anyone is talking about in the camp. I don't know what they're all so anxious about. We've already encountered and solved the complication that threatened the ritual this time around. I should think now we're in the clear.”

Idonea's grip on her reins tightened and there was a strain in her smile as she hummed and nodded along. Was it the reference to Olaug's disappearance testing her impassivity or was it the Heava Dance?

He prodded at their bond, but everything Idonea was feeling was hidden well behind her wall.

While he was grateful the wall kept Idonea from reading too much into him, it was getting annoying he couldn’t read her at all.

Idonea said, “Then you ought to tell the rest of them that. This time the Heava Dance will go perfectly.”

Nyrunn hoped so. His court often overinflated his dancing skills in an attempt to flatter him, and this was a completely foreign dance to him. The steps had long since gone out of style, and Nyrunn only had so much time left to practice.

“You'd think it'd be obvious, Lady Idonea. You are nothing like Inga, save for both being Gytha's chosen,” Frode said.

Idonea's expression shifted before she gave him that fake smile and said, “I should hope I'm nothing like her. We would be in trouble if I was. ”

“His Majesty certainly would be, but really, I don't know where they're getting the idea from. I mean, you're a library apprentice, and you look so soft—I mean that as a compliment, my lady. I don't know how anyone could look at you and compare you to Inga. You don't look like you could hurt a fly, much less kill your own husband.”

Again, the same brief flicker appeared and was gone as Idonea let out a soft laugh that had a hollowness that rang in Nyrunn's bones. Again, nothing slipped through the bond. She was a fortress.

“It's the human blood. It makes me quite unassuming. Which works out well because I am unassuming. I care far too much about my duty as Gytha's chosen and our people to mess this up, even if I was capable of any violence.”

Her response was interesting, but there was something more important which prevented him from being a silent observer of the conversation. He remembered the tear tracks on her cheeks the night before.

“Who is gossiping about my wife?”

At his voice both Frode and Idonea startled, turning to look at him, like they'd forgotten about him even though he was between them.

“It's nothing, Your Majesty,” Idonea said, her voice softer than before, and she lowered her gaze to her hands. “It's just talk. People always talk.”

“Not about you. Not while I'm king,” Nyrunn snapped. He directed his glare at Frode. “I told you I will not tolerate any disrespect toward her, and that extends to you, even inadvertently. You will put a stop to such talk any time it occurs.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Frode said, ducking his head.

The matter was far from complete, but he could devise a permanent plan later when Frode had more information. Nyrunn sat back in his saddle when he was shocked by what he saw out of the corner of his eye and felt a distant hot flare on the other side of Idonea’s wall.

Idonea, who a moment ago had withdrawn into a shell, was now glaring at him. Had that been… fury?

He turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

And upon being caught, she just looked back down and said, “Nothing, Your Majesty.”

“If you want to say something, say it.”

She stared at her hands for a moment, hair partially obscuring her face, but several different emotions flickered in her eyes.

Then she looked back over at him, the words spilling out. “I just don't think that's necessary. If you punish them for saying something, it doesn't stop them from thinking it. And they'll just keep saying it when they think they won't be caught. It doesn’t matter. They're just words.”

Words that had reduced her to tears the night before.

“It matters to me.” He held her gaze, trying to impart the sincerity of his words to her thick skull. “You will be afforded the same respect they owe me. I may not be able to stop vicious, unfounded, vile thoughts, but I can protect you from hearing them. Just because they think it doesn't mean I will let them plant those thoughts in your head.”

He could feel Olaug’s letter in his pocket. He should burn it. He should. He couldn’t risk Idonea ever discovering it and believing those vile words.

But Idonea didn’t back down. Her knuckles whitened as she sat up straighter. “Your Majesty, there is no cruel thought anyone could voice that I have not already heard or has not already been living in my own head. Your efforts are in vain.”

Nyrunn stared at her, letting the sound of their horses’ breathing and hooves hitting the dirt fill the air .

He doubted that.

“We shall see.” Nyrunn still would not break her gaze. “You are my wife. Protecting you is a responsibility I do not take lightly.”

Idonea looked down again, biting the inside of her cheek like she was quite physically holding words back.

Frode quickly launched into a new topic, forcing distance from the old, probably out of fear that Nyrunn would keep making things worse. Even though the things he was saying should only improve his relationship with Idonea.

That evening, he took care to observe her more. There were two questions he needed answered.

One, was there any hope?

Specifically, would she always hate him? Could he ever show her that he wasn't the cruel king she believed him to be? Would she ever forgive him for the crime of not being Olaug? For marrying her?

Two, what was she hiding?

He'd always known her to be... particular. He'd spent hours mooning over her. He was aware of her habits and preferences. She hated anything being out of place. The second a hair came out of place, she noticed immediately and fixed it, much to his dismay. Her clothes were never less than spotless, unless he caught her toward the end of a long shift. At the start though, never so much as a wrinkle. Even her posture was perfect. She never slouched. At least when she thought anyone might see.

When she shelved books, it was always done with an obscene amount of precision and care. No book could be pushed in farther than the one next to it. Dust was unacceptable.

Even when she ate, her bites were tiny and she had a kerchief on hand to dab at her lips so there was never even a crumb left as a blemish. She had better manners than the court despite her human blood and lower status.

She was obsessed with perfection.

Even though he always liked her more because she never quite achieved it. Not the way everyone around him was always perfect. There was always something she missed. At some point, she always slipped up. She slouched. She missed a wisp of hair. A spot of dust. A little jam on the edge of her lip.

How that connected to her nightmares or the strange behavior from their conversation on the road, he hadn't yet put together. But even in the evenings when he would enter their tent, she would primly snap her journal shut and tuck it away in her things, almost perfect. She always missed a tiny little smudge of ink on her finger.

He knew the answers to both his questions had to be within those pages. He also knew he'd be deciding the answer to one of them if he did ever touch the book.

He would have no hope of ever winning her trust or affection if he violated her privacy and read it.

While she was doing her best to keep to their agreement to be peaceable, as each day went by, she only seemed more and more on edge. Despite her protests, it was clear she was hearing harsh whispers which were only feeding into her anxiety and nightmares.

Nyrunn had his opportunity the night before they would reach the Ruins at Heava.

As he passed by Lady Katla, he heard her say, “—hope His Majesty has a guard nearby. There's no telling what she might do. Olaug might have disappeared to ensure he wouldn't go the same way as the last one, and who can blame him?”

Nyrunn cleared his throat, and the group of noblemen and women turned around as he strode up to them. Idonea was paler than the moon, clutching her bowl from dinner as she was handing it to a servant, both within earshot.

“Your Majesty—” Lady Katla startled, but he just lifted his hand and she fell silent.

He looked over them all. Lady Asa ducked her head, eyes squeezed shut. At least one of them had the decency to at least feign guilt. The guards looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. Several other nobles did the same when Nyrunn fixed them with his glare.

“Lady Katla. I can't say I expected more from you, since no one has ever expected anything of you other than for you to look passably pretty and marry well, and you have yet to achieve either. But I do expect you to shut your runaway mouth and keep my wife's name out of it.” He took another slow, dangerous step, lowering his voice. “Idonea is here, fulfilling her role as Gytha's chosen as a service to you and every single Star Elf in this generation and the next. You should be falling on your knees and thanking her.”

No one responded.

No one moved.

Was it enough? Did they at least fear him because of his father’s blood and reputation enough to obey?

Or would this keep happening behind his back? Gutting a girl who was their better in every way because they were just too blinded by her blood to see it?

He snapped, “And if you can't, then you will stay here and trek back to Novum with no supplies and no map. I would suggest showing some gratitude to your queen.”

The bowl fell from Idonea's fingers. Something dark pulsed behind her wall, but he didn’t need the bond to know what it was as she stared at him in abject horror. The camp was silent.

He straightened up and said, “She will be crowned after we emerge from the Constellation Pool. So if you want to see an event unlike any in all our history, you will bridle your tongues, stop your idle gossip, and treat your queen with respect or else you will face my wrath. Do not forget yet whose blood I carry in my veins. King Hrorr should not be so easily forgotten by any of you, and I am my father’s son.”

Lady Katla dropped into a deep curtsy toward Idonea and stammered out, “My deepest apologies. I meant no harm.”

The others also bowed toward her and murmured respects.

Good. Now—

Idonea fled without a word.

Of course. Because staying and accepting their apologies would be too easy. It would make too much sense.

Nyrunn took off after her, ignoring the look he got from Frode as he did so. Idonea disappeared into their tent, and he came in right on her heels.

“Idonea—”

“Why did you do that?” Idonea whipped around, backing away from him, hand sinking into her dress, over the necklace and the birthmark.

What answer did she want from him?

Nyrunn took a deep breath. “I'm their king. They have to listen to me. And you are going to be their queen. I don't care what examples I must make of them, I will in order to ensure they honor your position.”

She gaped at him, her next question coming out in a rough, hoarse noise. “Why?”

If only she knew… but she couldn’t. It would only make this mess worse.

“I told you. It's my job to protect you.”

There came that look on her face again. She was desperately holding something back, and he wished she would just say it, but then it was gone.

“All you do is stoke ire against yourself. You're still young and unestablished, you should not make enemies of your own court, you shouldn't—” Idonea's voice cut off as she looked down.

“I shouldn't what?”

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She whispered, “You shouldn't have a half-elf as queen.”

He stared at her for a moment. The thought was… It was ridiculous since he'd been hoping to have one for years now. Hoping to have her .

Instead, all he could say was a plain, dry, “We're married.”

Idonea snorted. “I'm aware. Just... I'm not... I'm not supposed to be queen. That's not—It's never... Gytha's chosen has never also been queen.”

Where was she going with this? It certainly was historic, but it wasn’t illegal or against any of the rules for the ritual. “And?”

Idonea sank onto the bed, burying her head in her hands. “It's wrong. All of this is so, so wrong .”

So... maybe that was the answer to his first question. Even with peaceable, Idonea still thought their marriage was horrifically wrong.

He took a few slow, hesitant steps toward her.

Then she looked up, tears in her eyes. “Have you found him? Have you heard anything?”

He shook his head. He had a few men following leads but no updates. Not about Olaug. Frode had been keeping him apprised on any sightings of Moon Elves within their borders.

She took a shuddering breath and whispered, “This is it then. This is what it's going to be like. This is my life. ”

It was things like that that baffled him. The way she said it made her sound like she was thousands of years old.

Her broken whisper tore through him. “How am I going to get through this?”

Her ice-blue eyes were spilling over, and he fought every urge in his body to gather her into his arms. It wouldn’t end well. He had to do this right or he’d lose all his progress. He had to meet her where she was.

He sat next to her, his hand brushing hers, startling her into looking up at him. “I know this isn't what you wanted... I know I'm not what you want.”

As much as he wished with every beat of his heart otherwise, he had to be honest with himself.

He curled his hand around hers. “But I'm here—wanted or not, you have me. You're not in this alone.”

She shook her head, but she didn't rip her hand away immediately at least. “I can't get it right. I've never gotten anything right. All I'm going to do is mess this up further.”

That just wasn't true. Almost everything she did she got right due to her obsession with perfection. Even her little mistakes or oversights were charming. They didn’t ruin anything. They made her real when he was surrounded by the illusion of perfection.

Perfect didn’t exist.

“I'm going to mess this up again.” She returned his grip, squeezing his hand tightly. “I'm going to fail our people before the comet even appears.”

“Look at me,” Nyrunn spoke softly, but she didn't even seem to hear him, just staring down at her lap. He reached over, gently running his fingers along her jaw and turning her head to face him. “You're going to see, tomorrow when we reach the ruins and perform the Heava Dance, there is nothing for you to fear. This is not like the last attempt. We are different people, and this is a different life. I won't let anything go wrong tomorrow. And after that? You are more capable than you know. As for being queen? There are few who are qualified, and you are one of them. You will have me, every step of the way, I will be with you.”

If he were a braver man he would kiss her, or possibly an even more foolish man than he’d already proven himself to be. The answer would depend on her response. She was staring at him with emotions he could not fully comprehend, but her lips were slightly parted, and he definitely recognized awe.

She was stunning.

But if he had the chance to kiss her and not have it end in disaster, it was gone when she ducked her head again, pulling out of his grasp and tucking her hand into her lap. He gently closed his hand around the empty air she’d left behind.

She whispered, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I'm sorry.”

“Whatever are you apologizing for?”

“Just...” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Everything. I forget often you've lost far more than me because of this. Stepping in was a real sacrifice. And... you've been kind, far kinder than I expected. I'm sorry this has gotten in the way of what you want as well.”

What did she think he had lost? He'd gained everything; the only problem was what he gained didn't want anything to do with him.

Dare he tell her?

“I'd hardly call being married to you a sacrifice. You—”

“Please, I'd appreciate if you didn't lie to try to protect me. It won’t make any of this any better. Now, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. We should get some rest.”

She wouldn't believe him. Even if he said it, she wouldn't believe him.

So Nyrunn swallowed the words and just turned away, bowing his head and letting her change in privacy. At least he hadn’t made a bigger fool of himself by kissing her.

He caught sight of the journal out of the corner of his eye as he did so.

Would she ever let him in enough to tell him what she was hiding?