“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know how —”
“It’s fine,” Tannar assured her quickly, leaning in for a quick kiss on the cheek.
They would talk about it tomorrow, she agreed, waving before she disappeared back into the house, watching from inside the doorway as his headlights disappeared.I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow. Your whole life is going to change tomorrow.
True to his word, Tannar had come by that morning.
They sat together in the dining room, with the door closed, and Silva had no doubt that her grandmother and mother were on the phone the instant the pocket door rolled shut.I would barter with you for your hand, Silva of Castlemartyr. Tannar had come prepared. She’d not realized at the time that Elvish men had the same binders of preparation as the women. Instead of wedding plans, they had the wedding barter.
Proof that they could provide, financial records, investments, stocks, inheritance. A prenuptial agreement outlining exactly what she would get from their marriage, how she would betaken care of after his death, what compensation she would be afforded if they decided to terminate the agreement. After all, Elvish marriages were civilized. They did not make barbaric oaths before a fire to which they were bound until their deaths. If they wanted to exit an arrangement, they could, as long as both parties came to an agreement to walk away.
Any child born of their union would be similarly provided for. It was not in writing, not a part of any of the carefully drawn plans, and Tannar's voice had dropped to a near whisper,sotto voce, when he told her his plan. They would simply not tell anyone that the child wasn’t his. After all, children belonged to the mother. Every elf knew that. They would satisfy their parents, he murmured, get them off their backs almost immediately, as soon as she began to show, and move forward with their lives together. One happy family.
Silva felt as if she were sleepwalking.
It was the best she could possibly hope for. And after all, what choice did she have? He was lost to her. Tate had told her he did not want her to wait for him, had made herpromisethat she would not. She did not want to find out what would happen if she broke a fae promise. He wanted her to live her life, and she needed the protection of her community to provide for her child. It was the best she could do.
She had been outplayed, she realized, signing her name to the marriage agreement. Outgamed from the start. Sometimes the most important part of the hustle was knowing when to walk away from the table.Cut your losses and recoup what you can. She would keep her respectability, her place in the community. Her child would have her name, a roof over their head. And she would always have someplace to go, Silva reminded herself. He'd made sure of that.
When Tannar left, eager to put their agreement on file, Silva sat in the dining room, staring out the window, wondering howany of this had happened to her. When the pocket door slid open, she didn't need to turn.
"You have no idea how good it does my heart to see you happy, darling."
Silva stiffened at the sound of her mother's voice, crossing the dining room to where she sat staring out the window. She didn't turn to acknowledge her mother's presence, and said nothing to the empty sentiment.
"Youarehappy, aren't you, dear?"
She would never be happy again. Happiness was like hope — a tenuous thing on delicate wings, and they had both flown away from her.Fly away, little dove.
"No," she said simply. There was no point in lying. "But that never mattered to you, did it?"
"Silva, ofcourseit does."
Her mother's voice was anguished, and Silva bit her lip as tears flooded her eyes.
"Darling, seeingyouhappy is the only thing we've ever wanted. I know you're still upset with me. I know you might be for a long time. But sweetheart, you don't see whatIsee. You're not seeing the big picture.”
Her words were an echo of whathe’dtold that night in her bed. The tears overflowed.
“All we want is for you to be happy, Silva,” her mother repeated. “How happy do you think you would still be with this man in fifty years? In a hundred years? When he's dead in the ground and you're alone? After you've spent the balance of his lifetime shunning your own community? How happy do you think you would still be then?”
A flutter beneath her breast, reminding her it was there, like a little wing.Not alone.
“I’m sorry that you had your heart broken. It tears me apart knowing that you’re in pain, Silva. When you have your ownchild, you’ll know how that feels. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but I won’t say that I’m sorry it happened. I know this seems cruel to you now, but someday you'll understand.”
This all could have been circumvented months and months ago, a year ago. They should've left together, run away someplace where whatever waited on the other side of that pond would never have been able to find him. She’d been too afraid of losing her family, not wanting to make the choice between them and him. She'd waited so long, that the choice had been made for her.And now you're going to tell me you love me, but you're not sorry it happened?
Her mother bent, a hand at Silva’s shoulder, beseeching her. “Iknowyou don't love Tannar as much as this other man, sweetheart. I know it. But can you love him enough? Can you love him enough to build a life you're happy with? Because the day will come when you won't be able to remember this other man's face, Silva, but the child you bear will be your joy until the end of your days."
Her sob caught in her throat, an aborted wheeze out of her, leaving her temporarily unable to draw breath.By then you won’t care, because you’ll have your own pretty little doll of a daughter to fixate on, and you can pour all of your insecurities into her.A beautiful little girl would get the job done. With his mischief-filled eyes, a piece of him she’d hold onto forever. Another of those little wing flutters, a deep, shuddering breath, and then she was calm. As calm as she could be.
She had one play left, she realized, a devastating flex. The massé shot was too flashy for a hustle, he’d told her once, but if one’s back was against the wall, it would get the job done.
“You think you know what unhappiness is,” Silva whispered. She didn't want a wedding, didn’t want the flowers and pomp. No invitations needed to be sent. A contract, a bonding, the consummation. And then she would make her final play.
“But I don’t think you do, mother. You might yet learn.”
Lurielle
