“I do not doubt your current endeavor,” his father replied. “In fact, I am quite proud of you.”
Onric inhaled, chest swelling.
“But there are other things I must ask of you which may make you feel like you are playing a game.”
“Yes?”
“Where did you find this girl?”
This was not how Onric wanted to introduce Ashlin to his father. “We met her as Ian mentioned, but she independently sought work at the castle and Steward Daniel hired her. He took to her quite quickly, which is saying something. She has no guile in her, Father. She is truly honest, as Ian was saying. Her father was killed in a shipwreck during a Majis-induced storm.”
His father held up a hand. “I am not questioning you or your judgment. You have never proven false in those areas. This is merely a conversation. I believe you.”
Onric stopped talking, realizing his heart was racing as he rushed to defend Ashlin. He wanted his father to think well of her.
“The defense of Iseldis, of the five kingdoms as a whole, depends on our stability,” his father continued. “While it is important for Ian to choose a crown princess in order to take the throne should anything happen to your mother and I... We also wish that you would choose a bride before the Return. This ball is the perfect place to do so.”
Onric’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled. He had already met several of the women who would be in attendance that night, and none had so much as stirred his heart.
“I know this is not easy to hear, Onric, but both you and Ian are well older than I was when your mother chose me. We would wish that you had the luxury of choosing to marry for love, as we did, but in these times that is a luxury we may not be able to allow ourselves.”
Onric could only think of one woman who had even remotely moved his thoughts towards marriage. His eyes strayed up the staircase towards the door to the tower room.
“Great sacrifices are required of each of us in this time,” his father continued, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently moving him away from the staircase. “And it pains me to ask them of you.”
Onric fully realized what his father had left unsaid. But he also knew the words his father had spoken were indeed true. He wanted to shrug off his father’s hand with some cutting remark about the uselessness of responsibility. But he was not Erich, who would have expressed his displeasure as a child might. Rather, Onric thought of Ian and his calm acceptance when he learned of the ball being thrown in his honor.
Perhaps he was not inferior to his older brother in every way. Perhaps he too could accept this responsibility with the impassive recognition that his station demanded. But his heart plummeted. His every interaction with Ashlin had been sewn into his heart. Ripping out the stitches would be more painful than he could imagine, and it would no doubt leave him as damaged as the tapestry panels in the room above him.
He let his father guide him out of the castle ruins and into the newer palace. His father wanted him to choose from among the women at the ball. Those women would all be from the noble families—mostly from Iseldis, but a few had traveled from the closer kingdoms. Unless...
“You’ve spoken to Mum about this?” Onric asked.
“Yes, she was adamant that we give you as much time as possible. But in light of the failed defensive demonstration this afternoon, I’m afraid we have no time left to give you.”
Onric nodded, feeling very big and mature for not throwing the tantrum he desired to throw.
“I am so sorry, son. But there are bound to be many wonderful options at the ball. Ian will be looking to make an alliance with another kingdom, but I will not place that same pressure on you. Feel free to choose a gentlewoman from our own Iseldis. I know how much this land means to you.”
“Thank you, Father. I understand.”
“I must go soothe the ruffled feathers of our councilor.”
“I do not envy you that position.” Onric watched his father go, then stepped inside the palace. The back staircase that led from the inner courtyard to the royal family’s living wing was the second place he had seen Ashlin. Walking up those steps again, he could not help but remember her fear and reservation that night. He never wanted to see her in that state again.
He entered the family salon where his mother was sitting at her desk.
She smiled up at him, but the smile quickly faded when she saw his face. “Your father spoke to you?” she asked.
He nodded, pacing across the room behind her desk. “Mother,” he said, turning to repeat the pacing process, “how have the invitations to the ball been received?”
“Quite well, of course. Why do you ask?” She had turned in her chair and was watching his movement.
“Will it be quite full?”
“I suppose so. What are you getting at?”
“Even though the recipients had so little time to prepare?” he asked, evading her question again.
