Despite the fact that Blythe didn't choose her new husband to be her partner, the young woman is optimistic-this is a chance for her to join a family that will actually love her! Who wouldn't be hopeful, after enduring 23 years of toxicity and hatre...
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Blythe kneels before the graven idol of Giakora, flaxen hair falling like pale gold as she bows her head. In Aaradivirsi, this is not an uncommon sight; most if not all women partake in this ritual before they make the journey to meet their promised one.
But Blythe has a lot more to ask of the Goddess than most. Rather than requesting a handsome lover or plentiful children, the young woman is begging the deity to bestow to her that which she has always been deprived of—a loving and kind family.
Suddenly, the rough sound of her father's voice cuts through the air. "Blythe, hurry up in there! We don't have all day, wretched woman!"
She rises, giving one last plea to the goddess before exiting the prayer room. Her heart is beating wildly as she approaches the carriage which will tear her away from all she has ever known.
Still, as Blythe watches her mother give her emotionless goodbyes to her only daughter, the bride-to-be can't help but feel giddy that she was finally escaping this wretched place. For 23 years she has been wrongly mistreated, hated, and enslaved to her unloving parents and siblings...Now, with the promise of a hefty dowry, she would leave this cold forest for the seaside.
So she climbs into the carriage without protest, giddy to meet the man she would spend the rest of her life with. As they head towards the coast, the forests give way to weathered cliffsides, and Blythe daydreams about how she will play her new role as a wife.
She pictures tender kisses from her husband, warm hugs from her mother-in-law, and days spent together with her future children who will frolic carefree in the warm ocean...She's being a little optimistic, she knows. But this is all she's had to look forward to during the hardest of times...could anyone blame her for being hopeful?
After a week of travel, they finally arrive. Blythe is nearly trembling as she exits the carriage, wishing desperately for someone to lend her a steady hand. Since it's just her and her stiff father, she resigns herself to gripping the fabric of her dress instead.
She allows a sharp intake of breath as her groom emerges from the cottage on the cliffside; Brenton Cage approaches, face stern as cold gray eyes meet ocean blue ones.
Blythe's heart flutters, cheeks flushing with warmth. But her fiancé doesn't greet her as warmly as she hopes. Instead, his gaze slides to her father. Her groom hefts a small coin purse from his hip, handing it over to the elder. "200 gold pieces, as promised."
Blythe's father scowls. "Typically, a dowry is also supposed to include an offering of wine and baked goods..."
Brenton meets the look with a sour expression of his own. He roughly shoves the coin purse into the elder's hands with a snarl. "Typically, when someone refers to a maiden as having hair the color of wheat, one pictures a golden hue. Not golden with streaks of dishwater brown."
