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Erienne, princess of the powerful Samaria, is faced with one of the most dreaded situations of all time: an arranged marriage. Bound by a blood oath, she marries her unwilling groom. As circumstances shift out of her favor, Erienn...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
THE FIGURE SET A CANDLE ON HER BED TABLE.
The soft glow illuminated the face of the intruder. Erienne sighed a breath of relief. It was Mart, her brother. "I had to some see you." Erienne ripped his hand from her mouth and arranged herself in a more appropriate fashion on her bed.
"Why?"
"Tomorrow you'll be gone. I'll never see you again, and I doubt I'll hear from you. You'll just be a memory." Erienne couldn't discern if his tone was wistful or not.
"Yes," was all she managed to say. She hadn't thought any of her brothers would care once she'd gone.
"Do you hate them?" Mart asked. They both knew who he was referring to.
"Yes," Erienne answered. She saw so no problem with telling the truth. Come tomorrow morn, she'd never see their wretched faces again.
"Do you...do you hate us?" This time, Erienne knew he was referring to he and their brothers.
"No," she answered. It was difficult not to hate them as well. But, she constantly had to remind herself of their innocence in everything. It was as much their fault that Holt preferred them as it was Erienne's fault she was getting married. Each party bore no guilt.
"Do you love us?"
"I don't even like you." That was the truth. "There is no way I could. Your parents kept us apart our entire lives, there was no room for a bond or amiability, no room for love. Especially seeing how you're doted on." There was a silence. Erienne saw him make a sour face and wondered, for a flash of a second, if he was hurt.
"I loved you in my own little way," Mart said quietly. "I'm sorry you're leaving."
"Everyone's sorry. It does nothing. My fate is sealed. There is nothing that can change that, or even alleviate it. Even a secret, midnight rendezvous," Erienne dead-panned. "And really, you must go. I'm supposed to be in Containment and meeting with men, especially at ungodly hours, is forbidden." This statement, she knew, wounded him. Her brother picked up his candle and started to exit her chamber.
"Mart?" He turned.
"A champion foot racer. A lover of the people. I won't just be a memory, I'll still be your sister. And if you...if you really care about me you can pen me a letter. And by God, I promise I'll write back."
"An oath upon your blood?" Mart quipped. Erienne smiled weakly.
"Goodnight brother."
"Goodnight sister."
The midnight hours stretched into eternity, and for the first time, sleep eluded her. When her servant came to wake her, Erienne was seated upright on her a bed in a bundle of nerves.
None of the servants said anything at all. Her bath felt like the best she'd ever had. They arranged her hair in Erienne's favorite way. This took an exhaustive amount of time, it required each curl to be twirled with a bamboo comb. They dressed her in a magnificent dress of white silk, one she'd never worn before (neither requested to be designed), and fur-lined shoes. When they'd properly dressed their mistress, they all curtsied.
