I stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, watching lords and ladies dance past in ornate gowns and formal suits adorned with ceremonial swords and heirloom jewelry. Each gem that sparkled at a noble’s throat could’ve fed a village family for months.
Servants wove through the crowd, offering trays of wine and rare delicacies. I recognized Mae’s cousin among them, her eyes carefully downcast. No one had seen Mae since I’d taken her home after the ceremony. I’d brought coins. Food as well, though neither could replace a stolen son. I would visit her again tomorrow.
I sipped my wine, hating that I was required to wear the mask tonight. It itched. It dug into my skin. And it reminded me of the role I played in death.
My golden gown had a low neckline, and the heavy fabric clung to my waist before flaring to the floor. My only adornment was acollar with tiny pale blue topazes that matched my eyes. I’d left my hair loose, cascading down my back with only a few strands pulled away from my face and secured with pins.
“The perfect princess,” Father said softly, appearing beside me and placing a warm hand on my shoulder. “You look remarkably like your mother tonight. Other than a few…deviations, you’ve done well as our Lady of Mercy.”
“Thank you,” I said, the words automatic while my mind raced with thoughts of rebels and stolen children, of Mae’s son somewhere in the darkness beyond the castle walls.
Of the punishment I’d received for what he’d called a betrayal.
It was hard to believe three days had already passed since the ceremony. A quiet uproar still filled the court. Guards bunched at each gate. Searches were still being conducted in every village home in the surrounding countryside. Rumors swirled like autumn leaves, each wilder than the last. Some said the children had sprouted wings and flown away. Others whispered of tunnels beneath the reformatory, of rebel bases hidden in the mountains to the south.
My father had shared nothing with me beyond what the entire court already knew. A second punishment for my public defiance.
The first still made me flinch if I moved too quickly.
My father himself had whipped my back three times.
“Lord Dannet’s son keeps looking your way.” Father nodded toward a young man with carefully styled brown hair and a sword that appeared too heavy for his slight frame. “His family controls three of the northern provinces. Very advantageous connections.”
“How fortunate that his neck can support the weight of his head while carrying such advantages.” My words came out like barbs, but it was either that or crumble. Sarcasm hurt less than tears.
Father’s laugh held amusement, though his fingers tightened on my shoulder in warning. “You’re developing your sister’s sharp tongue. Perhaps that’s why so many lords find you intimidating.”
“Is that what it is? I thought my height put them off.” I stoodnearly as tall as most of the men in the room, a trait inherited from my father rather than my petite mother.
“You underestimate your effect, Amarissa.” His voice dropped, becoming both warm and calculating, the tone he used when persuading his advisors to accept his point of view. “I’ve been consulting with my council members about suitable matches. It’s time we secured your future with the right high lord or king.”
My stomach clenched. “Shouldn’t you be consultingmerather than them?”
“Iamconsulting you. Right now.” His smile remained fixed, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was projecting charm for an audience. “I’m sure the Velmire alliance through Adelaine is progressing well, despite her initial reluctance.”
“You’ve heard from her? How is she? Is he?—”
“I have not heard from your sister, but I’m sure I’ll soon receive a dispatch from her new, doting husband.”
My shoulders slumped. “We should’ve heard by now. It’s been five weeks.”
“A match for you with one of the northern kingdoms would give us control of the trade routes on that side of the continent.”
“We already control the trade routes to our east and west.” With water on both sides, it would be hard not to. “Our treaties allow us safe passage through their lands.”
“Not through Syllavar Court.”
“No one enters their wasteland swamp, so does that truly matter?” A drowned land, thick with briars and fog, it was uninhabitable other than for a few feral rebels. Few had any interest in passing that way. A quick death, my father once told me. If the rebels don’t get you, the beasts who hunt the land will. “I don’t want to get married yet.”
“Choose someone or I’ll do it for you,” Father growled through his smiling façade.
He wanted to trade me like a prize mare to the highest bidder, but the only man who’d made my pulse race would probably slit mythroat given the chance. The irony would be poetic if it wasn’t so pathetic.
Hot, defiant words about choosing my own path rushed up my throat, but I swallowed them down. The slashes across my back were still too fresh to do something that would result in him adding more.
“Perhaps we could discuss potential matches after I’ve had the chance to dance with a few of them?” I asked, struggling to sound pleasant. “It would be a shame to commit before knowing which ones can carry a solid conversation.”
Father’s expression hardened before he masked it with another bland look. “Remember your place, Amarissa. I allowed your little display of compassion at the ceremony to pass without public consequence, but do not mistake tolerance for approval.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is not.”
