Cold Hands, Warm Heart

EIGHT

"Gwyneira, stiria, we have some news for you."

I set down my toast. "What is it?"

"Lord Cadno wishes to marry you... and we are planning to give him your hand."

"What?" Can my life spiral any further?

"Watch your tone, Gwyneira," my father warned.

I cleared my throat, shoving down my fury. "I apologize, father. I meant to say: What do you mean?"

My mother continued, "Lord Cadno is a nice, proper young man. His family is very wealthy—not to mention venerated throughout Eira. We believe he is a good match for you. He is an excellent candidate for the throne of Sancia."

"No! Please—"

"Gwyneira, that is enough. You are eighteen—I was married by then. And you have refused him twice already."

"Mother, please—"

"Gwyneira! What has gotten into you? You are a completely different person! You used to take our words with pleasure, but now you are an undisciplined, obstinate girl!"

"Your mother is right," my father jumped in before I could. "We are your parents, and you ought to listen to us. Your actions are unladylike and inappropriate. This is the end of our discussion."

❅❅❅

"I am sorry about the circumstances," Cadno whispered, eyeing my mother and his mother taking turns around the parlor. He put a hand over his mouth before scratching his nose. "I never meant for your parents to force you into this."

"It's all right," I said. "I am aware of that."

"Good. That's good."

I sipped my tea, hoping the tension between us would ease.

"Mother," Cadno called, "Princess Gwyneira and I are going to take a walk in the gardens."

'Garden' is a stretch. Although the snow and ice have melted, the mountain dirt is not very versatile in regards to plants. Only the most stubborn flowers thrive here. That is one of the downsides to living here.

Khorshid had the loveliest garden...

"What a wonderful thought, Lord Cadno," his mother responded.

"Take Imogena with you, Gwyneira. Now that you are courting Lord Cadno, you need a chaperone."

"Certainly."

Imogena trailed behind us as we walked among the poppy mallows and butterfly weeds.

"Is it cold out here?" Cadno asked, pulling his jacket closer.

"I don't feel anything."

He nodded, and we continued strolling. I was glad to be out of the watchful gaze of my mother. Ever since my "outburst" at breakfast yesterday, my mother enrolled me in more etiquette classes. She has kept me busy, and I was secretly thankful. It left me no room to think of Khorshid or ending my life.

I haven't been sleeping, either. The only thing I do is to dream of Khorshid, and that leads to further complications. So, I barely sleep. I take my newfound spare time to read. It consists mostly of things on domesticity. I want to learn how to bake bread or sew a dress or keep a garden.

"I am sincerely sorry," Cadno spoke, stopping in his tracks. "I don't know who you met on your... your trip, but you've clearly fallen for them."

I blinked in shock. "How-how did you know?"