Her father rubbed one hand across his wrinkled forehead. “This again? I thought we were clear. You must marry Richard, Poppy. Your reputation is precarious after your abduction, but no one would dare impugn the honor of the next Montrose marchioness.”
“I don’t wish to be marchioness,” she said, just as her mother said, “She wants to be vicereine, Clarence.”
He grew still, knuckles tightening on the cane. Though Poppy still stood on the tailor’s box, he was tall enough to look her in the eye as he said, “Poppy, it’s true you have succeeded where most would fail. But the office of the viceroy?” He shook his head. “That is truly impossible.”
His lack of faith burned like acid. “Why not?” She kept her chin raised. “I am your heir, and the role is always inherited by the heir. Am I being passed over because I am a woman? Or is it because I am Virian?”
“Both,” he said, unrepentant. “I have always been honest with you about the hurdles you’d face as my adopted daughter. There are very few people who would not challenge the legitimacy of a lowborn woman, especially one without a title.”
“I am prepared for adversity,” she said. “At least the struggles of being vicereine would come with a measure of power. A viceroy’s wife is nothing but a glorified broodmare.”
Her mother gasped, paling.
He slammed the butt of his cane against the ground. “Apologize to your mother.”
Poppy blew out a breath. “Mother, I apologize. I meant you no slight. But the position is essentially that?—to provide an heir for the viceroy’s office. She has no title, no official duties, no political power, no purpose other than to provide a male child.”
“I’m sure you can have Richard delegate some official duties to you once he’s inherited the role,” her mother said. “He gifted you an orphanage, after all. I’m sure he’ll include you.”
Like hell he would. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Why must I rely on the Montrose name to give me power when I am a Sutherland? I should be vicereine. Anything less would be to rob me of my inheritance.”
“Do you think that we seek to rob you?” her father glowered. “We saved you from a life on the streets. I’ve spent a fortune on nothing but the best governesses, tutors, even the best college for you. Everything I’ve done has been to enrich you, to give you the skills you need to survive in the world. You can read, write, and do sums, which is more than most Virian women can say, but you are ungrateful to the very end.”
Shame stung Poppy’s cheeks. Her father’s lecture reminded her of Samina’s, the flip side of the same coin. “I am grateful,” she said, thinking of the families in Sanivali. “Don’t think I’m not aware of all the ways in which I’ve benefited from my upbringing. But just because I gained much doesn’t mean I didn’t lose much as well.”
“Lose?” her father repeated, as though it were a foreign word. “What could you have possibly lost?”
All the bitterness Poppy had felt in Sanivali came bubbling to the surface. “My language.” Her voice broke, but she raised it louder. “My culture. You raised me to speak your language, uphold your values, practice your traditions. I never learned my parents’ traditions?—”
“We’reyour parents,” Demetria cut in. “We raised you.”
“After you took me from another city,” Poppy said. “I know nothing of my birth parents.”
The duke sighed deeply, dragging the heel of his hand down his face. “We have been over this, Poppy. You’ve asked us this before, and no one knows who your birth parents were?—the factory that killed them did not keep accurate records of the workers it employed. Finding out who they were was impossible.”
“So you say,” she said. She had believed that answer as a child, but her time in Sanivali had shattered the way she saw her father. “You have control over the police division, so forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. Did you even try?”
“We tried where it mattered!” her mother cried. In her corner of the room, she had started shaking violently, her face pale, as though the intensity of her emotions were physically taking a toll on her. “You hadnothingwhen we found you, but we gave you a home, even gave you our names:Poppy Demetria Sutherland.We loved you like you were our own, because to us, you are our own. We adopted you with the best of intentions, and you could not have had a better life with anyone else.”
The pain in her voice cut Poppy deeply, guilt and yearning welling up in the wound. She hadn’t meant to make her mother cry. For a moment, she debated dropping the issue to avoid distressing her further. But now that she had seen the world that she had been taken from, she couldn’t ignore it. Until her kidnapping, she’d been the version of herself the Sutherlands had chosen for her. But in captivity, Poppy had found there were multiple versions of herself?—some lost to the past, and some that were still shrouded in the future?—and she refused to let her choice be taken from her again.
Her father took another step forward, taking one of Poppy’s bare hands and patting it between his. His wrinkled skin felt soft as suede. “I know the grass always seems greener on the other side. But remember?—Virian culture is inferior and primitive. They ascribed value to a person based on the circumstances of their birth, limiting the social mobility and economic opportunities of those who had no magic. We raised you better than that, with the values of the Founder. All men have purpose. Anyone can rise based on their merit and hard work.”
Poppy looked down at him. “If that’s true, then name me as heir to the viceroy’s office. If all are equal, then the title ought to be mine, because my rights would be equal to any natural-born male heir of yours.”
He hesitated, his lips parting as he struggled with this. Finally, he relented. “I will give it thought, Poppy. But your wedding will take place as planned.”
“But?—”
“No,” he declared. “It’s not up for debate. To back out now would cause both families immense embarrassment and would only fuel speculation about what happened during your abduction.Ifyou become vicereine, then you will need the support of the First Families to achieve anything. A viceroy is only as powerful as the allies he keeps.”
Or she.
With that, he beckoned to his wife, who took his arm. They walked out of the room together, her father leaning more heavily on his cane than when he’d entered.
Poppy stared at herself in the mirror as Lark’s assistants came back into the room to unbutton the gown. If her parents would not help her end the engagement, she’d find her own way out. The assistants undid the last button, and the wedding dress slid off Poppy’s frame, freeing her from its horrible weight.
Chapter Thirty-Four
