Page 55 of Thief of Roses
“Arturo,” he relented at last.“Arturo Hemnesium Elliel Vallon...de Vacca.”
To hear it from his own lips, the confirmation struck her like a gust of wind.
“The second son,” she said.“The Rivan Prince.”
“Nay, Y beg thee.”He had once been misguided to wear his name like a medal, but now it burned him with shame.“Let me be thy Baró and naught else.”
“I knew you must have been someone,”Rivani mused.“But I did not allow myself to imagine that you were — to know that you were —”
“Solelie thy Baró,”he finished for her.
“Why not own it?”She tilted her head.“We have discussed your faults but our stories say that you, unlike your family, possessed a heart.You, Baró.You were the hope to end the Rivan persecution.”
“Thy stories art Rivan,”Baró said.“Thy Rivan Prince lyved not among Rivani.He heard no stories of hope.The people loved my fa—”He had referred to a father before, but having confessed to who he had been, it did not feel right to refer to Hemnesio as his father.Hemnesio had never been much of one.“They loved the kyng and Luca found favour among them.Yn their eyes, the second son was naught but a Rivan bastard byrthed by a treasonous queen.”An old fury bubbled up and laced his voice with poison.“They put my mother to death because of me, because Y was not of the kyng’s get.He would have renounced me except that it was too late.Y already carried his name.Styll Y was remynded daylie by all lest Y forget.Y—”
He stopped.None of this mattered anymore.He never spoke of it to another in all the years since, ashamed to own that he had always been alone and unwanted.And if no one had wanted him then when titled and accomplished and attractive, no one could want the little he could offer now.Arturo de Vacca was better off dead.
“To the Rivani, perhaps the Rivan prynce offered hope, yet his existence proved more embarrassment.To those around him, he was a faylure, a disappointment, a terrible mystake who possessed no vyrtues to redeem him.”
“He had faults and flaws,”she agreed,“but he saved many Rivani from torture and death even as his king conditioned him to hate the blood of his sire.He was lauded as intelligent and fair with all the makings of a good ruler and a morality he could not abandon even at the expectation of his family.”
Baró snorted, his resentment palpable.“And what other remarkable vyrtues hath been doubtless fabrycated?”
“That he was the most beautiful man who had ever walked this earth.”She added,“But I do not think that was fabricated.”
“’Twas Rivan beautie,”Baró corrected.“Non-Rivani did not thynk him so.Yet all wolde agree that now he appeareth the mooste uglie.”
“No.He has been elevated to a god,”Rivani countered,“the Fir’Darl, a most magnificent creature.”That earned her a hard snort of derision.“It’s true.”
“Cease such flatterie, Y pray, Rivani.”
“Sahtiya.”She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Baró’s confusion overwhelmed his face.
“My name,” she said.“Sahtiya.”
“May I speak it?Just once.I will not abuse the privilege.”
“Of course.It is a common name.”
“Sahtiya.”He spoke it slowly, reverently, like the name of a god, tasting and savoring each syllable of it.“Thank you.”
“There is no need for gratitude.”She reached out and fingered a black curl on his right shoulder.“Now, I am going to get my furs and blankets.When I return, I plan to hold my Baró and I expect my Baró to hold his Rivani.All talk of other names stays outside this world of ours.Our other names are for those for whom we are obliged to perform our roles of mystics and monsters.”
He caught her wrist before she could leave.He had to know.
“Does it change anything — being who I was?”
“I have a better understanding of who you were, Baró, but I only care about who you are now.”
