6. Valen

CHAPTER 6

VALEN

A riana moves with a quiet efficiency as she dusts the ancient artifacts lining the shelves of my study. The sunlight streaming through the high windows catches in her hair, casting a warm halo around her head. I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her work.

"You have quite the touch," I say, breaking the silence.

She jumps slightly, her hand jerking away from an ornate vase. "Oh! I didn't see you there."

"I seem to have that effect on people," I reply, a smirk playing at my lips. "But really, you handle those relics better than most of my staff."

Her cheeks flush a delightful shade of pink. "Thank you, sir."

"Valen," I correct. "Call me Valen."

"Valen," she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

I step closer, my gaze fixed on her. "And you're Ariana."

"Yes," she says, nodding quickly. Her eyes flicker to the vase and back to me. "I'll get back to work."

"Please, don't let me interrupt." I watch as she resumes dusting, her movements more deliberate now, as if she's hyper-aware of my presence.

Later, in the dining room, I find her pouring coffee for some of the staff. She moves with such grace, each action precise and fluid.

"You're quite skilled at that," I comment, stepping into the room.

She glances up, startled again. "I... thank you."

"I mean it," I continue, taking a seat at the table. "The way you pour coffee... it's almost like an art form."

She stifles a giggle and then looks mortified for doing so. "It's just coffee."

"It's not 'just' anything when done with care," I say. "Not a single drop was wasted. That's a skill. It's attention to detail that sets apart the ordinary from the extraordinary."

Her blush deepens. "You're very kind."

"Kindness has nothing to do with it." I meet her gaze head-on. "I merely speak the truth."

Her eyes dart away first, focusing on the cup she's filling. Her hands tremble slightly but still, she doesn't spill a drop.

Throughout the week, our paths cross more often than not—whether by design or fate is anyone's guess. Each time we exchange words or glances, she becomes a little less guarded and I find myself more drawn to her earnest nature.

In the library one afternoon, she's organizing books on a high shelf when I walk in.

"You might need a ladder for that," I suggest.

She turns and nearly loses her balance but steadies herself just in time. "I've got it under control."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Because it looks like you're about to topple over any second now."

She grins despite herself. "Maybe just a little help then?"

I stride over and hold out my hands to steady the ladder as she climbs down. Once she's safely on solid ground, our eyes lock and for a moment neither of us moves.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"My pleasure." The words hang between us, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of us is ready to acknowledge outright but can't quite ignore either.

Ariana is arranging a stack of freshly laundered linens when I approach her. Her back is to me, but she must sense my presence because she tenses slightly.

"Care for a tour of the more private sections of the estate?" I ask, voice casual.

She turns, surprise lighting up her eyes. "I have more work to do."

I wave off her concern with a flick of my wrist. "I'll have it taken care of. Come on, indulge me."

She hesitates, glancing at the linens, then back at me. "If you're sure..."

"Absolutely," I say, offering a reassuring smile. "Follow me."

We start in the east wing, where fewer staff roam. The hallways here are quieter, the air filled with the faint scent of polished wood and old books. I lead her through my small, private library first, where floor-to-ceiling shelves are packed with volumes from countless worlds.

"Do you read much?" I ask.

"I used to," she replies, running her fingers along the spines of the books. "Not so much lately."

"You're welcome to borrow any of these," I say. "Consider it one of the perks."

She smiles, clearly pleased. "Thank you."

I step closer, our proximity narrowing. She doesn't shy away but stands her ground, her gaze meeting mine with a mix of curiosity and something else—something deeper.

Next, we move to my private study. The room is darker here, more intimate. Rich mahogany furniture and intricate tapestries add to the ambiance.

"This is where I conduct most of my business," I explain.

"It’s impressive," she murmurs.

"You should see it at night," I say, lowering my voice slightly. "The view from that window—" I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her towards a large window overlooking the estate gardens— "is breathtaking under the stars."

She's relaxed in my grip, not moving to detach herself from me. "Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime."

Our tour continues through corridors and rooms seldom seen by others. In each space, I find ways to brush against her—an accidental touch on her arm here, a guiding hand at her back there. Each contact sends a thrill through me and judging by her reactions, she's not unaffected either.

We pause outside a room adorned with delicate carvings and intricate designs.

"This is one of my favorite places," I say softly. "Would you like to see inside?"

She nods eagerly.

As we step inside, the room envelops us in warmth and soft light. It’s cozy and inviting—a stark contrast to the grandiosity outside.

"It's beautiful," she whispers.

"It is," I agree, but my eyes are on her rather than the room.

She turns to face me fully now, closer than before. Her breath catches as our gazes lock again.

"Thank you for this," she says quietly.

"You're welcome." My voice is equally soft but carries an intensity that makes her shiver slightly.

I reach out slowly and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She doesn't flinch or pull away; instead, she leans into my touch just a fraction.

We stand there for a moment longer than necessary before I finally step back.

"Shall we continue?" I ask, my tone lighter now to break the tension.

"Yes," she replies quickly, almost too quickly.

That night, Ariana serves as my attendant at dinner. The table is set with an array of dishes from across the galaxy, each more extravagant than the last. She moves with her usual grace, her eyes downcast but attentive.

"Tell me, Ariana," I say, cutting into a piece of grilled takara beast. "What did you do before coming here?"

She hesitates, glancing up at me through her lashes. "I worked at a small diner in the lower sectors."

"A far cry from this place," I remark, gesturing to the opulence around us.

"Very different," she agrees with a small smile. "But I enjoyed it. The people there were... real."

"Real?" I echo, raising an eyebrow.

"You know," she says, a bit more animated now. "Not like the guests here. They weren't hiding behind masks. Engaging in idle gossip about their…generous host."

I chuckle softly. "And do you think I'm hiding behind a mask?"

Her cheeks redden. "I didn't mean?—"

"It's alright," I interrupt, waving my hand dismissively. "You're not wrong."

She seems to relax a bit at my words and continues serving the dishes.

"So, what do you enjoy doing when you're not working?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"I like reading," she says softly, placing a platter of roasted el'kori on the table. "And painting, though I'm not very good at it."

"Reading and painting," I muse. "Two pursuits that require patience and imagination."

She nods, her eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away. "Yes, I like trying out anything creative, really. It helps me escape."

"Escape from what?" I press, leaning forward slightly.

She bites her lip and shrugs. "Just... life, I guess."

I lean back in my chair, contemplating her answer. There's more to this woman than meets the eye.

The rest of dinner passes in similar conversation—her interests, her past in Armstrong Post-War—but I keep my own emotions tightly controlled. Each question is calculated to draw out more of her without revealing too much of myself.

At some point I even convince her to sit with me, and enjoy a little of the luxury I have to offer. She's hesitant, acting as if she's a small prey animal about to jump into a trap. But she takes the offer and thanks me profusely.

"You haven't eaten well in some times, have you?" I ask, observing how she doesn't hide the way she ravenously tears into a small piece of fresh fruit. She blushes in embarrassment, and my endearment towards her grows.

Later that night, in the solitude of my room, I find myself reflecting on our exchange. Her sincerity is refreshing in a world filled with deception and ulterior motives. She's like a breath of fresh air in this stifling existence.

I stand by the window overlooking the estate gardens, their beauty now cloaked in darkness. My thoughts keep drifting back to Ariana—the way she blushes when she's embarrassed, the genuine smile that lights up her face when she talks about something she loves.

Yet, even as my attraction grows, I know I must maintain my distance. The secrets of my past are not something I can share with anyone—least of all someone as pure-hearted as Ariana.

No matter how drawn I am to her, revealing too much would only put her in danger. And that's something I'm not willing to risk.

For now, I'll keep my mask firmly in place and watch over her from afar.