I am aware of the rumors of a flirtation you were having with Callahan’s friend, Emerson. Don’t think I didn’t know the second it started. The only reason it happened was because I allowed it to happen. While I could tell it was simply the foolish passion of youth on his end, I permitted it because of his good breeding, skill in alchemy, and loyalty to Callahan. I could have forced the match at any point should no better options have come along.
When one did, I had no qualms about accepting it. I watched him closely as he and Callahan attended the meetings, and he did not speak out once. He did not so much as break a sweat. There was no fear or concern in his expression. And if that wasn’t enough, I had Callahan confirm it with him—Emerson saw you as a pretty way to pass the time at the academy when his studies weren’t challenging enough to keep his attention. He never entertained any serious affection for you.
He will make an excellent King’s Alchemist for Callahan; of that, there is no doubt. It is a great reassurance to me to have him secured for the position. Had this opportunity not arisen…
Hellebore had suspected as much, but reading it still sent a sharp rolling wave through her stomach. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe Emerson had loved her, but he hadn’t even cared enough about her to at least pretend they had a secretengagement to try to stop this? She’d thought if nothing else, they were friends enough for him to at least say something on her behalf.
Maybe they had been, but maybe he saw the opportunity to take the most coveted position in all the kingdom and he wanted that more. Why be the husband of the King’s Alchemist when now he couldbethe King’s Alchemist?
There’s really no delicate way to put it. You’re more useful to Chymes as a bride than an alchemist. My sister’s fondness of you blinds her, but I am not so fooled. I have kept track of your studies and while your teachers have taken pity on you or feared Palladia, it’s clear your work was only passable at best.
While your status as a princess only puffed up your ego and hindered any progress you might have made as an alchemist, at least you have other uses. A pretty enough face that hopefully your husband finds more exotic than repulsive. A dowry large enough to make up for the case of the latter.
The ability to do as you’re told.
Should you think you don’t possess that quality, you’d better acquire it with haste.
There is no other option. You will marry King Taiyo. You have no choice.
Should you be mistaken and believe you do and try to refuse, you will discover the consequences. If you attempt to remain in Chymes or try to return to Chymes without marrying the king, you will be treated like the traitor those actions would make you. Chymes’ treaty and future with Iubar is sealed by your marriage. To defy that is an act of treason, and I will not let such actions go unpunished.
There is nothing for you in Chymes but a noose.
I take no pleasure in such pronouncements, but I will not repeat mistakes. I tell you this only so you understand thegravity of this matter. I hope my sister has not made you so entirely into her image that you would be unable to grasp that.
You will not write to anyone in Chymes of your own accord. Do not think you are cleverer than you are. You will not be arranging an escape that way. All mail travelling from Iubar and into Chymes will be checked and should anything have your name alone, it will be destroyed. However, should you have anything of actual importance to write about, you may send it through your new husband. His approval will ensure your letters are not destroyed and there is nothing in them you would not want him to see.
Don’t be foolish. Don’t embarrass Chymes. Be grateful for the opportunity to be useful to your country. Forget about alchemy. Be a good wife.
King Silas
Hellebore was tempted to stick the edges of the pages into the candle’s flame and let it all go up. It would likely catch the whole room on fire if she did and put an end to the whole affair before it began.
She didn’t.
What would be the use?
Instead, she folded the pages back up and set them on the nightstand before blowing out the candle beside her. Once the flame was out, her books on Iubian Elvish forgotten on the table, she sank into the blankets again. The only light was the slight glow of the Sunrise Iris’ bloom.
Hellebore covered her mouth with her hand, but it didn’t make a difference.
The tears came anyway. No matter how hard she tried not to feel, her father’s words circled in on her, only they were in Callahan’s voice.
If Callahan hadn’t fought for her to remain in Chymes, then it meant he believed all of it too.
Hellebore turned on her side, burying her head into the pillow, using it to muffle her sob. She gave in. She’d let it all out.
Once she was done crying, she would be done mourning. She would be done feeling.
When the sun rose, she would remain numb. She would be perfectly cold. Eternally calculating. It was the only way she was going to survive her so-called marriage.
Chapter 7
Hellebore was surrounded by a fleet of serving girls and seamstresses—headed up by Phoebe and Elaine—after being woken up at the crack of dawn on her wedding day to begin preparations. This time, however, she was content to let them do whatever they wished so long as they did not disturb the Chymesian to Iubian dictionary in her hand. Since being woken up, she'd been refreshing herself to hopefully make conversations smoother, but she still had a while to go before she could be considered fluent.
Hellebore felt nothing but the smooth pages beneath her fingertips. There was nothing but calm acceptance. She was many things, but she was not going to rage or mourn in futility. Her fate was sealed. Better to get on with it.
Hellebore flipped a page, causing the seamstress on her right to prick her and chide her right as the door opened and all the girlish chatter ceased. Hellebore lifted her eyes from her page to see the female elf from before, the one wearing the royal pattern, King Taiyo's sister, Hellebore presumed. They looked alike, both having that warm, amber-toned skin, brown eyes, and black hair that faded into orange. She had an elfling on her hip as she stoodin the doorframe, a stern, commanding presence despite the baby trying to take her necklace and stick the rubies in his mouth to drool on.
