My throat is tight. I can’t swallow. I don’t want Duke Sothbridge to propose. He is horrid. He assaulted a vessel on a balcony and had the audacity to declare that gave him the right to claim him. Sothbridge is nothing like sweet Rakeswell. Sothbridge is arrogant. Sothbridge is cruel. Sothbridge has a different man in his bed every night. He would make a terrible husband.
“Rakeswell is giving his word that Colby was sick and he only left him alone with Sothbridge to fetch some water.”
Mother frowns, “I know he was only trying to help, but saying Colby was alone with two mages doesn’t make the situation any better.”
“Maybe Rakeswell will propose?” I interject hopefully.
“You were seen with Sothbridge and he is the one with the reputation,” says my mother, dashing all my hopes and dreams.
“Sothbridge won’t propose! He is a fiend! Our boy is ruined! We are ruined!” wails Father.
Oh gosh. Maybe I do want Sothbridge to propose. Father is right. It’s Sothbridge or no one. I was on the shelf before this, add in a scandal and no one will ever want me. And that’s before everyone discovers we are now poor.
I’m going to be alone forever. I’m going to die a virgin. A poor virgin. It’s a tragedy.
A knock on the door makes me jump out of my skin. Jeeves walks in with a very fancy letter on a silver tray. He presents it to my father. The study falls silent. I don’t think anyone is breathing.
With trembling fingers, Father picks up the thick, gilded paper and unfolds it. I watch his eyes scan the contents and then he looks at me but I can’t decipher his expression.
“Sothbridge has proposed.”
I can’t see. I can’t hear. Reality has fallen away. I’m stunned and I don’t know what to think. I should be happy, shouldn’t I? I should be ecstatic. This is wonderful news. It solves all our problems. It is the best possible outcome.
I’ve been trying my best to get someone to propose to me for years now. Ever since my nineteenth birthday and the official mourning period had passed. A proposal has been my only goal in life for three long years. So why am I swamped by this feeling? This feeling that feels suspiciously like terror.
An image flashes of Sothbridge’s face when we were discovered.
‘You little bastard!’ he had snarled.
I think I’m going to faint. He is furious at me. He hates me. He is going to be my husband and my master. I’m a vessel, he is a mage. That means he is going to take my body to take my magic.
It’s going to be nothing like an arranged marriage between mundanes. We won’t be able to ignore each other. He will want my magic, so I will have to surrender my body to him whenever I’m ripe.
I shiver. I pray to any and all gods that I will have something like a monthly cycle. A weekly one would be torment. An unfair burden.
Breathe, breathe. I must remember to breathe. It’s all going to be fine. At least I’m not going to die a virgin. I’ve been desperate to get laid since I was seventeen and so very excited for my eighteenth birthday and my wedding. So much so that when my fiance had died in a car crash, my grief had been more for not getting railed, than for him. I am a terrible person. But I had barely known the man. I met him, what? Three times?
Anyway, I’m finally going to get what I’ve always wanted. A man, a mage, a husband. And he is a duke and not old or ugly. I should be grateful.
My head is pounding.
“May I be excused?” I ask.
“Of course, my dear,” says Mother.
I nod at her and scurry away. Maybe lying down in a dark quiet room will stop me from disintegrating. I need to pull myself together. Everything I have ever dreamed of is about to happen. Wanting to sob hysterically is ridiculous.
My room doesn’t feel comforting at all. Despondently I flop down onto my bed, still fully clothed.
It is going to be fine. Sothbridge is angry at me now, but I’m delightful. I will win him over. He will come to like me, I mean what’s not to like? I’m cute, sweet. Desperate for cock. Any mage would be lucky to have me.
So what, if by everyone’s best assessment I’m not going to be a very powerful vessel. They might be wrong, there is no way to really tell. Once I’m tapped I might burst with magic to give to my mage. And if not? Sothbridge is a very powerful mage. It’s not like he needs any more magic.
As for my training? Well, it’s a good thing my parents are progressive and haven’t subjected me to that. I can hardly imagine that Sothbridge is a traditionalist. He is barely thirty for a start.
And, okay, my family is not the most prestiges or high-ranking, but he is a frigging duke. He doesn’t need any help there either.
It’s all fine. He won’t hate me forever. He won’t be an arrogant philanderer forever. I’ll charm him. We will have a happy marriage and my family won’t be ruined. Everything is great.
