A hero worth saving, p.1
A Hero Worth Saving, page 1
A
Hero
Worth Saving
A Hero Worth Saving is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Liminal Books is an imprint of Between the Lines Publishing. The Liminal Books name and logo are trademarks of Between the Lines Publishing.
Copyright © 2023 by K.T. Munson
Cover design by Cherie Fox
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First Published: June 2023
ISBN: (Paperback) 978-1-958901-46-5
ISBN: (Ebook) 978-1-958901-47-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023936660
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A
Hero Worth Saving
K.T. Munson
For Nicky. You said make it steamy. You're welcome.
To all my family and friends who listened (a lot) and supported. Thank you.
Chapter 1
“You are going to marry the Hero of Mount Vere,” her father said with a sneer. “Finally, you’ll be of some use.”
Odette stood quaking with fear at those words. She, the illegitimate daughter of the duke, who had been passed off as a real daughter for years, would finally be thrust into the world. Without a debut, or a chance to be courted, she would enter society already married. He’d hidden her alongside his two legitimate daughters, should the king ever demand fealty through marriage.
Today was that day.
“I heard he’s a monster,” Jestine said, a cackle in her voice.
“Perfect for our dear sister.” Grace turned her nose up; Jestine’s constant mimic.
Odette felt tears threaten at the biting words as her half-sisters baited her. She felt herself shrink, knowing the illegitimate son of a Duke who had been crowned hero and granted all the lands to the north as his fief, had killed dragons. Monstrosities that stood as tall as entire cottages had been bested by this mountain of a man.
“W-why…” her voice shook and her father slapped her.
“Spit it out, you daft girl.” That same hard voice was all that greeted her from her place on the ground.
“Why me?” her voice sounded pathetic to her own ears. Her hand was clasped over her stinging cheek.
“He asked for my fairest daughter,” Duke Wolverson said, disgust mingled with delight. “The one with the blonde hair. What a fool.”
While her father enjoyed what he considered luck, Odette just reeled from the same question. Unlike her sisters who sported the ebony locks of the House of Wolverson, she had her mother’s reddish-blonde waves. That still did not explain why the Hero of Mount Vere, one of the now richest men in all the lands, had wanted to marry her. He could have picked anyone, perhaps even royalty, but he’d picked her.
Perhaps it was because in his eyes she was as good or better than royalty. Although the king and his family ruled the nation, her father’s family was older and richer. Her father was also the uncle of the current Empress. Power, prestige, and wealth were everything a marriage to one of the duke’s daughters entailed. Their father had shrouded them in mystery, allowing them limited outages and acting like they were equal daughters in public. Even allowing them to attend tea parties, but never where men were present.
How had he learned of her? Or had he selected her at random among her sisters?
“…it’ll be too late by the time he realizes. Spurning my other daughters for you.” She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts that she’d missed her father’s musings. “He probably thinks he is getting revenge, but it is I who shall have the last laugh.”
“When?” Odette asked, knowing full well she might be hit again.
“In three days he’ll arrive from the capital and collect his wooden spoon.” He roughly grabbed her arm, gripping it so tightly she was sure it would bruise, as he forced her to stand. “You shall play your part and keep your lips sealed or your mother and siblings will pay the price.”
Odette cried out despite herself as she thought of her ailing mother and younger half siblings. They counted on her to survive. “May I see them once more? Before I go?”
“Nonsense. That bastard will soon collect you and shall be your only family. Forget them.”
“But you will continue to provide for them?” Again, she sounded pitiful.
“So long as you keep your secret.” Her father shook her, baring his teeth like a wild animal. “You are my daughter and that is all your foolish future husband need know.” The sinister twinkle in his eye made her stomach turn over. “You say otherwise, and your pathetic family will be out on the street.”
Odette nodded. “Yes, Sire.”
He caught her chin and pinched her jaw painfully. “Now be a good girl and be the submissive wife I’ve trained you to be.”
Chapter 2
~ Past ~
Odette sat beside her sick father’s bed. A horrid cough wracked his body while she wiped the sweat from his brow. As she finished, she turned to do the same with her mother. The maid had abandoned them, leaving her alone to care for her parents. A cloth was draped across her nose and mouth like the Wisewoman had instructed, she’d done everything to keep her younger brother and sister away.
“Ettie,” her mother whispered. Her face was drawn and thin. It was as though skin had been pressed around her bones where there was so little left of muscle or fat.
“Try not to speak.” Odette tried not to cry, but she was barely ten.
Suddenly, a cry came from the next room. Her sister, not yet one, howled and mirrored how Odette felt inside. Standing, she was stopped by a surprisingly strong grip on her wrist.
“Ettie,” her mother whispered. “I must tell you, and you must listen.”
“But Melody is crying,” Odette replied, torn between the urgency in her mother’s tone and her sister’s wails.
“There isn’t time. I can feel myself fading.” Tears streamed down Odette’s face at these words, no longer held back in the face of her mother’s naked honesty. “Your father will protect you.”
Odette glanced doubtfully at her very still father who’s breathing was labored and shallow. “Papa is just as sick as you.”
“Go to the drawer,” her mother said, her voice strained. “There, the top small one in my vanity. Find the medallion.”
Confused, Odette went to the vanity and pulled out the only item in the drawer. It was wrapped carefully in an old handkerchief. Her mother waved her over as she sat back down on the stool. For some reason she felt a change, something whispering like a gentle hum.
“What is it?”
“Open it.” Her mother’s voice sounded so strange; it was practically lifeless.
Slowly she unwrapped it, and upon the medallion were three bears. The eyes had green gems that caught the low candlelight and seemed to stare at her. Instead of excitement, she felt a mingle of anticipation and foreboding. What would this strange necklace bring?
Her mother coughed and Odette helped her sit up, rubbing her back. Her left hand shoved the necklace into her pocket. After she’d drank the water Odette offered, her mother settled back, the same grim expression on her face, shadowed by death. The thought made Odette feel ill as Melody’s wails intensified.
“Your father,” she whispered. “It is your father’s. The House of Wolverson. Go to him. Go!” Her finger pointed to the door. “Take the children and go.”
-Present-
Odette couldn’t stop shaking. Her fingers trembled as she saw the massive entourage of soldiers and courtiers arrive. She tried to see her husband-to-be through the crystal glass, but his back was turned. His clothing was black, and his armor glistened despite the cloudy day. Within the hour they would meet for the first time and tomorrow afternoon she would be wed. The idea left a nervous feeling in her stomach.
Thoughtlessly she gnawed at her thumbnail. Remembering herself when the door opened, she whirled around as the maid entered with tea. Her heart was in her throat, unsure how to face this man. The clock ticked, as the honored guest entered Wolf Castle.
The clock chimed on the hour, two for tea. It was time and yet she was alone. She sat down and then stood, paced the room before sitting again. Minutes crawled by before there was a knock on the door.
The head butler entered; his pale moustache hid his thin, disapproving lips. “Lord Jareth Chadwick of Vallerdale, Hero of Mount Vere and Protector of the Realm.”
Odette stood; her nervousness intensive as she was expecting a wholly intimidating man to enter. She averted her gaze before curtsying low, showing him deep respect. She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke, “I welcome you to Wolf Castle, my lord. I am Odette Wolverson.”
“You may go.” His voice was commanding as he dismissed the servant, and Odette’s eyes darted up in surprise.
He was a head taller than her and gave off a powerful aura, yet he wasn’t as hulking as she’d expected. Furthermore,
After a moment’s pause, he addressed her. “Please sit.”
She did as he said and immediately began pouring the tea. Her hands shook slightly as she filled both cups, mixing them in proportions as she would drink it. When it was done, she set the teacup down in front of him, looking at him through her lashes.
“Milk?” he asked, and she jumped slightly.
“Forgive me, I mixed it with warm milk as I enjoy it. I shall make another that meets your tastes.” Odette chastised herself for how thoughtless she’d been. Of course, he’d want his tea a different way. “Please tell me what you’d like.”
“I’ve never had it with warm milk,” he replied, simply. She looked up at him in surprise and he added, “Finally, I get to see the green of your eyes. I had thought the rumors of all Wolvenson’s having green eyes a fanciful tale.”
“No, my lord.” She took the cup and saucer into her hands. “It is quite true.”
“I can see that for myself.” His eyes were sharp, almost amused as he took a sip. His eyebrows rose as he glanced into the cup.
“Does it please you, my lord?” Odette asked, hopeful that they might have something in common.
He nodded. “It is surprisingly comforting. Much more suited before bed I should think.”
The mere mention of a bed made her face burn. She averted her eyes and an awkward silence fell. There was a formidable presence that emanated from the man across from her. The urge to hold something of his and feel what he left there, made her fingers itch. What emotions would she feel on the cup’s handle? She was but a Mystic, the lowest of the three levels of magic users, but she could sense the emotions he’d leave.
“Did you have a pleasant journey?” As droll at it was, she’d take any topic over this infernal silence.
“Tolerable.”
The same quiet settled in and Odette felt her stomach twist in knots. She watched him finish the tea and set the cup down. What exactly did he want? Finding courage she didn’t know she had, as her nervousness grew into impatience, she posed a question. “The Duke told me you requested to speak with me alone upon your arrival. Was there something you wished to discuss?” Odette asked with more pluck than she felt.
Lord Chadwick was a difficult man to read. His expressions remained bland, almost cold, and his posture rigid. His gaze direct and unwavering. Even though he wasn’t the barbarian she’d imagined him to be, he intimated her to the point of fear. Despite that she was dying to know the answer to all her questions as they were bubbling up inside of her like a pot of boiling water.
“Are you amiable to this marriage?” If she had not heard it herself, she would never have guessed that was his question. He had demanded her as a gift for his conquests and been given her hand in marriage as requested. What right did she have to refuse? Plus, her father would never allow otherwise.
She tried to pick her words carefully. “My father accepted the king’s request.”
His face darkened at her words. Was her response to his displeasure?
“I didn’t ask what your father thought, I wanted to know if you accepted this marriage.” She flinched at the harshness of his tone.
Odette studied his face, trying to discern why he would care. His skin was tanner than most nobles and his corded hair was cut short. His clothing was of fine fabrics, but it was simply adorned. He was handsome though his severe expression marred that impression slightly. Did he think she could ever dream of answering him seriously? It wasn’t like she could say “no” and anything would change.
Cautiously, she answered. “I do.” Then realizing she’d whispered it she sat up and cleared her throat before saying, “I accept.”
He abruptly stood, and she struggled to catch up to his sudden movement. Before she could stand, he knelt in front of her, taking her hand and pressing it to his forehead in reverence she didn’t feel she deserved. Shock mingled with confusion at the feeling of his gloves on her hands. She felt the steady use and the power behind them, but they shared no more secrets of the man before her.
“I promise myself to you, Lady Odette,” Lord Chadwick said before kissing her knuckles.
Instead of objects, she wished that she could feel his emotions directly from his touch. She hadn’t worn gloves due to the informal nature of their tea time, so the press of his warm lips to her skin caused a blush to slither up her neck and into her cheeks. How could one man’s hand be so overpowering?
She was struck dumb by his act and just stared wide-eyed at the display. What was she to say? Then a thought struck her. “Until tomorrow.”
He nodded, stood abruptly, and left. Her hand was still hovering in the air for a while after he was gone. Glancing at his abandoned teacup, she nearly knocked it off the table as she lunged for it, certain that the maid would be there any second.
She found one emotion she expected and one she did not. The worry was to be expected, but the excitement… He was excited to marry her? Or was he excited about the tea? Setting it back down, she hurried to sit back on the couch as the maid entered. Standing, she went to the window, still mulling over what that emotion could mean. Few objects kept emotions for long after a person left. She could feel complex emotions left behind, but usually just the strongest stood out.
In spite of everything, she wanted to believe this noble man may be more of a salvation than she thought.
Chapter 3
A priest from the holy temple stood before them, reciting their vows. Odette wondered if Lord Chadwick noticed the church was sparsely filled for what should have been an auspicious occasion. It was beautifully adorned and Odette knew effort had been put into making it appear as though she and her dress were of the finest quality. Her father had to keep up appearances, after all.
Mindlessly, she recited her marriage rites, listening as Lord Jareth Chadwick did the same a moment later. Their arms were bound in a cord that they would wear until they arrived at the wedding bed. She felt lightheaded at the thought of what would happen later to her. She had been told it was natural and that the pain she felt was proof of her maidenhood. That did little to comfort or prepare her.
Her lips felt numb and her tongue heavy, but she was able to finish reciting the necessary words. None of it stayed with her as Lord Chadwick walked them back down the aisle and to the banquet hall. She sat and food was served. She ate only what required one hand as the feel of his hand against her made her stomach clench and she refused to ask for his help to cut any meat. She was afraid to look at him, worried what she might find.
Her father had made it abundantly clear that her future husband had taken the dowry in full. The sum surprised her, thinking it was far too generous. She’d never expected anything would come from him, but then, there were appearances to keep up.
Heat emanated from Lord Chadwick as though fire burned within him. She felt cold by comparison, chilled to the bone. Sleep deprived and sick with worry, she ate little and drank more than she should have. Her maid had encouraged her to drink, as it might make the night easier.
Then suddenly everyone was clapping, and she was being pulled to her feet. A promenade followed them to the door of their wedding room. Every step was a labor as she was sure he had to half drag her down the hall. Suddenly, they were alone, and the world tilted. Her ears rung from the sudden silence as her husband walked them towards the fire.
Husband. That was who this man was.
Odette looked up at him, liquid courage coursing through her veins. She’d never drank so much in her life, and now she wondered why she never had. It made her feel invincible despite what was coming. He lifted their hands and began to unwind the cord.
He’d said little to nothing to her all evening, so when he spoke, “Are you cold?” she jumped.
“What?” she whispered before stuttering out “N-No.”
“You’re trembling.” Had she imagined the gentleness of his voice?
Odette swallowed the bile rising up her throat at the realization that she wasn’t invincible, her brain had just temporarily forgotten to be afraid. Apparently, her body had not. She only managed to shake her head in response.
