“He definitely wanted to explore hidden depths, but we all know he didn’t give a damn about culture,” Caldon murmured into his goblet.
“Caldon,” Ariana scolded.
“As if you weren’t thinking it, Aunt.”
The queen didn’t comment, instead breaking off some bread and dipping it in oil. “Who has another story? Perhaps one that doesn’t involve humiliation?”
“Humiliating stories are the best, though,” Caldon said, reclining in his chair.
Mirryn seemed to agree, since she returned his devious look and asked, “Do you remember Jaren being accosted by those courtiers when we stayed at the palace in Lyras?”
Jaren made a distressed sound. “Someone kill me. Right now.”
The princess grinned wickedly and went on to share about a fanatic group of men and women who refused to so much as let Jaren feed himself while he was in their kingdom.
“It’s an offense to say no to Valornian hospitality,” Mirryn told Kiva with clear mirth. “Poor Jaren is adored just a little too much by our western allies.”
Kiva snickered along with everyone else, even as she heard Jaren’s quiet sigh. When she glanced at him, his eyes were lit with self-deprecating humor, telling her that no matter how embarrassed he might be, he wasn’t going to ruin his family’s fun.
However, after everyone else started jumping in with their own memories, he finally reached a breaking point.
“How did I not know about that one?” Caldon asked, roaring with laughter at the tale Oriel had just shared, involving a seaside vacation and a kindly old woman who had been convinced Jaren was her long-lost grandchild.
“Maybe it’s so I could avoid delightful moments like this,” Jaren returned. He looked around the table. “Please, for the love of the gods, someone share something that doesn’t involve me.”
“I have a story,” Captain Veris said, pushing his empty plate away. “It’s about a tenacious teenager who escaped from a Jiirvan arena, crossed the Forsaken Lands with nothing but the swords on her back, navigated the deadly underground streets of Ersa, then finally stowed away on an Evalonian vessel returning to Vallenia.” He sent a fatherly wink to Naari. “All of that, you already know. But I’ve never shared what happened immediately after I found this one” — he jerked his thumb at the guard — “spewing over the side of the ship.”
Veris launched into a boisterous tale about how he’d first met Naari, and how she’d convinced him to take her under his wing rather than toss her to the sharks.
His detailed account had the royals laughing and Naari rolling her eyes, but Kiva only half-listened, unable to shake what Veris had said in his introduction.
Naari had fought in one of Jiirva’s notorious arenas.
Kiva had heard rumors about them, enough to know that while they weren’t always a death sentence like Zalindov, anyone sent to an arena came out as one of two types of people: a warrior . . . or a corpse.
Not only that, but Naari had escaped — and then crossed the Forsaken Lands alone.
Kiva had already respected the guard for all that she’d overcome in her short life — not the least of which was losing her hand after protecting Jaren from an attack — but now Kiva’s esteem for the young woman grew considerably.
As did her concern.
Naari would die before she let anything happen to Jaren. Not just because it was her job to protect him, but also because her being there tonight — at a family dinner — meant she wasn’t just a guard to the royals, Golden Shield or not. If she sensed even a hint of betrayal, Kiva knew Naari wouldn’t hesitate to end her, no matter what bond had grown between them.
Her food settling uncomfortably in her stomach, Kiva tuned back in to the conversation just as Naari took over from Veris, sharing a part of the story that left him chuckling with embarrassment and denying every word. The king piped up with gleeful confirmation, adding his own details, causing the table to laugh anew.
And from there, they continued. Each of them sharing moments from their lives, sometimes joyous, sometimes humiliating, sometimes simply revealing parts of their histories, doing exactly what Jaren had requested upon their arrival in the room — letting Kiva and Tipp get to know them.
With each new story, Kiva died a little more on the inside. Outwardly, she smiled along with everyone else, but inwardly, she couldn’t stand what was happening.
The Vallentis family was just so normal.
But not just normal — they loved each other, so deeply. It was evident in every word they spoke, in every glance they shared, in every comedic insult and every soothing compliment.