Valen burst out of the front doors in a rage but paused at the top of the stairs to breathe. He did not want to see Gwen while he was this mad. He feared he would say things he did not mean or say things he meant that he was not ready to tell her.

After a moment, he looked down the steps to see his two best soldiers staring at him. The men were complete opposites in almost every way, but not in their loyalty toward house Cael.

Sir Reagan was a young, dark skinned man that exuded propriety and humility. Sir Samuel was a rugged, older blonde with a penchant for breaking rules. Valen began to descend the stairs, and his agitation showed in every step.

“My Lord, did something happen with the proposal?” Reagan asked.

“There is none.”

“Was it a pretense to get you to come here?” Samuel queried, with evident irritation.

“No, that was truthful, but the proposal was not to Gwen.”

Both his knights stiffened. Not many people knew the depth of his affection towards her, except those that were close to him. Even then, most pretended not to know since Valen rebuffed any discussion of the matter.

These two men in front of him were a different sort, they knew and took every opportunity to harass him about the matter. They did not do it to be cruel, but out of the genuine belief that it was inevitable.

“I need to go to the gardens and meet with Gwen.”

“Are you finally going to tell her?” Reagan asked, his eyes showing his youthful naivete.

“I think it may be now or never.”

With that, Valen turned towards the garden paths to go seek out Gwen. It took him some time to find her, but mostly because he idled. He was not exactly sure what to say to her, and walking into situations with uncertainty made him uncomfortable. War strategy he understood, and assumed the risks, but strategies with women were an entirely different matter.

When he found her, she was in the middle of a large display of floral arrangements, passing each one as if to make a major decision. As he approached, she looked up and her beautiful face beamed at him.

“Val!” She squealed and ran toward him without delay.

This soothed him in a way he could not describe. The look of concentration on her beautiful face had immediately been replaced with joy upon seeing him. Surely this enthusiasm was rooted in something that would create a happy future. Reaching him, she threw her tiny arms up around his neck, and he spun her easily.

“You have arrived so early!” She stated with enthusiasm, “There are still many hours until the banquet.”

“Banquet?” He had not known there was an event, though he surely had dressed like he was attending one.

“You did not know? I had an invitation sent. No matter, you are here now, and you must attend.”

Things were getting off track, he needed to correct the course of the conversation, or he might lose his focus. Even worse, he might lose his courage.

“I came to see you, Gwen.”

“I am so happy to see you,” she said, and she lovingly placed a gloved hand on his cheek. “There is so much I have to tell you.”

This statement made him flush, and he looked into her big blue eyes to help him find the words to tell her his feelings. Somewhere between his heart and his mouth, things began to flounder.

“I met the Reaper on the battlefield.”

“What?” Gwen stepped backward and her eyes scoured his body, as if to affirm that he was unharmed. “Were you injured? Are you unwell? You have just returned from the southern border, where the war is the most intense. How foolish of me not to ask about your welfare first!”

He held her hand and chuckled. “I am fine, but I…” his words caught in his throat, “I failed you, Gwen. I could not avenge your father, as I promised.”

Gwen’s face looked momentarily shocked, “Val, I do not care about that. Killing him will not bring my father back. If you were to die in the process of avenging him, that would only worsen my grief.”

He took comfort in the fact that she did not view him as a failure, though he often felt like one.

“Gwen, I need to tell you some-”

The soft sound of gravel crunching underneath shoes distracted Gwen and she turned.

“Ari!” Gwen squealed in almost the identical manner she had when she saw Val. She grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards her, “Oh Val, you must come meet my dear friend and now cousin! She saved my life!”

The approaching woman had rounded a corner and paused upon seeing them but was not more than a few paces away. When they reached her, he saw a pretty face that was framed with raven dark hair, and golden eyes that held an expression of distress.

“Ari, this is my best friend Val-” but Gwen broke off, “Ari, what has happened? What is wrong?”

The woman’s eyes had flicked to Val, looking like a frightened deer. She was frozen but also ready to bolt at any moment.

“Did you know?” she asked Gwen, her voice was low and sad.

Gwen released Val’s hand and lightly held each of Arian’s hands. “Did I know about what?”

“My arranged marriage.”

Gwen jolted at the statement and Val stiffened anxiously, worried about what would be said next.

“What? That cannot be right,” Gwen said in confusion, “Uncle is looking for a way that you may return home. Why would you get married?”

“Your uncle has arranged for me to get married in five weeks.”

“Who is your intended husband?” Gwen asked, her tone was cautious and concerned.

Val kept his eyes on the ground, as the hairs on his neck prickled. Surely, the Marquess would not use a situation like this to force a proposal. This situation was not public enough for a non-consensual announcement to bind an engagement.

“Count Farrough.”

Val looked up sharply in surprise. Gwen’s eyes went wide as saucers, her face white as a sheet, and terror laced her voice.

“No, you cannot marry him,” she said as her lip began to quiver. “No! I will not allow it!”

Val had never seen Gwen assertive or loud, and her tone caught him off guard. She was always soft spoken, happy, and kind.

“Your uncle said it is already arranged, and that I do not have to consent for it to happen.”

Val thought of the documents on the desk. The proposal Gerald offered and then burned had only been one of many pages that had been laid out. One of the others must have been an already signed marriage proposal from the Count.

I merely ask you out of love for Gwen.

That is what Marquess Hartfield had said to him regarding the proposal. He knew Gwen would not want someone she cared for to marry Count Farrough. He gave Val the proposal as a kind alternative and was indifferent to whether it was agreed to or not.

“Your uncle also told me that he was a violent man.”

“Violent,” Gwen scoffed at the word, showing its inadequacy. “Ari, he has strangled all his previous wives to death. He is well past violent; he is a murderer!”