He went on, voice dripping with some slimy sort of satisfaction I couldn’t quite decipher without being able to read him. “There’s good reason to think at least one brother, maybe both, would be interested in bedding you.”
A thought struck me. “Do the princes know of your plan for their bastard?”
“No.”
I clung to that single word like it might save me from drowning in all the others. At least they hadn’t signed up for a mail-order womb.
I slowly sat down again, stuck somewhere between bursting into a ball of rage and overwhelming numbness at how powerless I felt. “How will I pass as a diplomat? I’m a peasant.” I’d use any argument I could to get me out of this.
Warmth reappeared in the chancellor’s smile, though now I could see it was manufactured instead of true geniality. “We’ll sell you as a high lady to the world. You already comport yourself like one.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Is that an insult or a compliment, Lord Chancellor?”
“Both.” He chuckled. “I can already tell you’ll be perfect, Mage, excuse me… Lady Isca.”
With a flick of his fingers, the small box on his desk snapped open. From it, he pulled a pouch of coins and placed it before me. “One for every month until we receive word of a single ruler on the throne. It will be larger if it’s a boy… You have six months.”
I stared at the bag. Then at him. Then back again.
“What happens if neither of those outcomes happen on time?” I asked.
His smile grew fangs again. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. They’d kill me.
Ultimately, my hesitations and worries were irrelevant. I didn’t have a choice. I leaned over and grabbed the pouch, holding his gaze.
This was my family’s way out of poverty. The weight of the pouch I held in my hands was unmistakable. Even if it only held coppers, it was more than triple what we currently brought in from the market stall each month.
My secret was out. I had a new life.
As I pocketed the purse, I felt the faintest echo of Maeron’s satisfaction—utterly certain he’d won. Yet now that I’d seen the first crack in his protections, something told me there might be more signs of weakness to come if I kept looking for opportunities. I just had to last long enough to find them.
Even as I told myself this, the gods’ laughter echoed in my mind once more. My body, myfuture, had been stolen before I’d even stepped through the gates.
Chapter 10
Isca
Perfume and linen scented the fortress chamber I’d been forced to occupy the entire day as they worked to transform me into a lady. A gleaming bronze mirror in one corner, polished to perfection, reflected my image with startling clarity. Up to that point, I’d only ever seen my image in water.
Looking at myself, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this the version of me Chancellor Maeron had been hoping to bring out all along?
The woman staring back at me didn’t sell herbs in the market from dawn to dusk. She didn’t laugh at her brother’s jokes or change her father’s bandages for months on end.
I looked like someone who belonged here. My back was ramrod straight, my long wavy blonde hair woven into a braid so smooth and tight it gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
The fabric they’d wrapped me in itched, a discomfort so deep it felt like the gown was trying to burrow under my skin and change who I was. Even though it was finer than anything I owned, I missed the softness of my old, familiar clothes. But that was all behind me now. I was being molded, reshaped to fit the tastes of their fantasy.
Even the seamstresses moved around me like I was furniture being reupholstered. I stood on a low pedestal with my arms out while two women in black worked around me, pins clamped in their teeth, their fingers measuring, tucking, judging. I felt completely out of place, a fish flopping helplessly on dry land.
Loose at the hips and legs for riding, the crimson dress I wore fell all the way to my ankles. The stunning, deep-red color, likely achieved at mind-boggling expense, was a sight to behold. A detachable white cloak covered it, trimmed in tablet-woven braid. The trim and finely worked bronze shoulder brooches that held the cloak in place were its only ornamentation. It was practical but proper for traveling with “dignity.”
Boots came next, their leather was stiff and newly oiled. My toes were only slightly pinched. Hopefully, I could avoid long walks until they broke in.
“She’s small for a saddle,” one of the women muttered, tying the leather belt at my hips as though I were a mare being readied for sale—which I supposed I was. “Hope they have a calm horse.”
“She’ll manage,” the other replied, tugging my sleeve straighter like reins. “Leave room at the waist. Everyone comes back from Darreth a bit fatter.”
I stifled a laugh.
