“I have always been grateful for your family’s hospitality,” Tariel said, refusing to take the bait. “I have no wish to encroach upon it any longer than necessary, Lady Tyrook, but surely you cannot expect me to marry such a horrible man. If the queen has not formally agreed to the match, I refuse toaccept.”
Lady Tyrook glowered at her. “The queen is deathly ill, and therefore we cannot expect her to make a decision on the matter. For all we know, she could be dead already, and I simply have not received wordyet.”
Tariel reeled at this news. “You would go ahead without her consent?” She tried to wrap her head around the concept. She knew the queen was ill, but it hadn’t occurred to her that she might actually die before Tariel had met her. She always assumed that one day she would, and would finally get the chance to ask about her true parentage. If the queen died, she would never discover thetruth.
“Yes,” Lady Tyrook confirmed, “and in the absence of other instructions, and any dowry set aside for you, it is high time you marry. Lord Sowell may not be young or handsome, but he is titled and wealthy, and you will finally have the chance to be mistress of your own manor. What more could a bastard childwant?”
Anger flared in Tariel’s chest, but thankfully, her magic was too weak to cause a reaction this time. Biting back the scathing retort scalding her throat, she pushed aside her anger and tried frantically to think of a wayout.
“I…this is all so very sudden,” she said, pretending to waver. “I do not know Lord Sowell and am not comfortable agreeing to a match with a total stranger. I would speak to him before I give you mydecision.”
Marilla’s mouth turned down at that, but Lady Tyrook nodded. “You will get your chance,” she said grudgingly. “I will send word to him and arrange the meeting. In the meanwhile, you will be confined to your room on bread and water, to give you time to reflect on yoursituation.”
Tariel excused herself, then left the room on unsteady feet. Her stomach writhed in revulsion, and it took great effort to keep down the meal she’d hurriedly eaten. The idea of wedding Lord Sowell was beyond repulsive. Was there any way to get him to change his mind? Perhaps she could behave so horridly at their meeting that she would drive himaway.
No…Sowell would just take that as a challenge,she thought. From all she had heard of him, he was the type to relish forcing her, and put little stock in women’s feelings. Lady Tyrook was wrong—she would not be the mistress of his manor, but rather his slave. She had no doubt she would be black and blue by the end of her first week as hiswife.
The more she thought about what was in store for her with Lord Sowell, the angrier she grew. Heat rose in her blood, and she clenched her fists so hard her nails bit into her palms. Was this what being a good, obedient woman got her? A marriage to a fat, slovenly pig who would value her less than a prized horse? All this time she’d spent suppressing her magic, praying to Roisen…it had all been fornothing!
“Enough,” she seethed, slamming her tower room door behind her. The sound echoed down the stairs, loud enough for the servants to hear, but she didn’t care. She was tired of hiding her true feelings, tired of pretending that she didn’t hate Lady Tyrook and her family and all the other women here who berated and belittled her simply for being different. She could never be good enough for them, no matter how hard she tried, so what was the point of keeping up thischarade?
But as she stood by her new window, looking out at the garden where she had once stolen a few carefree moments with her childhood friend, Calrain, she realized those differences would be her undoing. Even if she could jump out of this window and run away, where would she go? Her unusual dark coloring, so like the Maroyan witches from the south, would only bring her scorn and persecution. Terrible storms, long winters, and bad harvests had stricken the land these past ten years, and in response, Jerrold the Relentless had doubled his witch-hunting efforts. Nearly three hundred women had been burned at the stake, and with the natural disasters growing worse every year, the Fjordlanders grew more and more eager to help Jerrold ferret out morescapegoats.
No, the roads were too dangerous for her to travel alone, especially without a horse. And there was no one she could ask to accompany her—Riann was a knight, sworn in service to Lord Tyrook, and Calrain was set to swear his vows to the Brotherhood of Roisen any day now. Even if they were willing to help her, she could not ask it of them. Doing so would ruin their lives, and she had nothing to offerthem.
No, she would have to do her best to convince Lord Sowell that she was not worth marrying. If she could not, she might very well try to make a run for it…even death at the stake was better than submitting to a rapist and a murderer and being forced to carry hischild.
6
“Makesure that you get that sent off right away,” Lady Tyrook ordered as Calrain finished dictating her letter. “I want this business concluded as quickly aspossible.”
“Yes, my lady,” Calrain said, inclining his head. “I’ll have it taken care ofimmediately.”
He tossed a bit of sand on the parchment to help the ink dry, then folded up the letter and tucked it into his robes, revealing nothing of his feelings. But as he left Lady Tyrook’s solar, anger and dread warred in his heart, squeezing at his temples and making his stomachchurn.
The letter he’d just dictated was to Lord Sowell, accepting his marriage proposal to Tariel on the condition that he come to discuss terms today and meet his future wife. Lord Sowell, the pompous, fat pig who had already put two wives in the grave and viewed women as little more than receptacles for his seed. Calrain had heard the stories, and the impression the man had given him the one and only time he’d seen him had only reinforced thoserumors.
If Lady Tyrook thought she was doing anything other than sending Tariel to an early death, she was gravely mistaken. White hot anger flashed through Calrain, and if he’d still had the letter in his hand, he would have torn it to pieces. How could she allow this to happen? Tariel was her ward. Wasn’t it her duty to protect her, and see to it that she was married off to someonerespectable?
But then again, it wasn’t really up to Lady Tyrook, Calrain thought dully. It was Tariel’s mysterious benefactor, who had convinced Lady Tyrook to take her in. Calrain had no idea why this benefactor would approve of Lord Sowell and not the other suitors who had tried to take home the foreign beauty, but then again, the entire situation was strange. Why did the benefactor hand Tariel off to Lady Tyrook to begin with, rather than raising herthemselves?
Calrain meant to head straight back to the clerk’s office, but instead he found himself detouring by Tariel’s tower room. As he climbed the stairs to the second floor, his mind began to race. Was there anything he might do to help her? He could try tearing up the letter, but Lady Tyrook would eventually find out that it had never been sent, and he would be punished by Brother Tersen for the oversight. Besides, that would only delay theinevitable…
“What are you doing here?” a sharp voice asked, and Calrain started at the sight of a maid standing outside Tariel’sdoor.
“I could ask the same of you,” Calrain said, hiding his dismay. Had Lady Tyrook set a guard outside Tariel’sdoor?
“I had left a feather duster behind and came here to retrieve it.” The maid shook the item in question, which was clutched in her left hand. “But that doesn’t explain whatyouare doinghere.”
“I heard that she was in distress,” Calrain said, thinking quickly, “and I came to offer my services as a servant of Roisen. Might I call onher?”
The maid narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment. “If you insist,” she said dubiously, turning around. She raised her fist to knock on the door, but it creaked open, and Tariel poked her head out. Her eyes were a bit red-rimmed, her black hair tousled, but even so, the sight of her stunning face knocked the breath out of Calrain. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to be able to spend time with her again, though he imagined the activities they would be getting up to in the storage room would be quitedifferent…
“Are you all right?” Tariel asked, a puzzled look on herface.
Calrain’s cheeks flamed as he realized he’d been staring. “Yes, just a bit tired,” he said, bowing his head. “Might I escort you to the prayer room for somereflection?”
Tariel gave him a small smile, but he did not miss the flash of gratitude in her eyes. “I would like that very much,” she said. “Just give me a moment to make myselfpresentable.”
