“You will be as helpless as I, Brielle.”
“Promise me.” I pulled back to lock gazes with her.
“I promise.”
Only then I let go. I watched the pair leave the yard and grasped at hope. The gentle way Loren’s new husband touched her shoulder reassured me, but the sour sensation in the depths of my stomach refused to be ignored. I lifted the helmet I still carried and frowned at it.
“Antano, take me to Lord Irvaine.”
“He didn’t wish you to return until nightfall.”
“I have seen enough. If you don’t escort me, I shall find him myself.”
Antano eyed me warily before pointing toward the lord’s hall.
Contrary to my keeper’s obvious concerns, questions not anger burned in my gut. Only Lord Irvaine could answer the most pressing one of them all. What did he mean to do with me?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Three
The familiar dim shadows of the lord’s hall during the daylight hours comforted me. All remained as it had been the night before though it was now well past midday. Trestle tables leaned against the stone walls, the noon meal forgotten in the chaos. A smattering of pallets still littered the floor. The daylight falling from the single smoke hole illuminated little except the center of the room. On the edge of the light, Lord Irvaine slumped in the steward’s chair. His fingers lost in his shaggy hair, he groaned.
“That is hardly enough to last us through the first few months of winter.” The thin man to Irvaine’s left waved a sheet of parchment for emphasis. Dressed in a simple tunic and leggings, he stood just beyond the touch of the light. His other hand clutched a parchment roll.
“Brevand, I can count. I surpassed you at figuring when we studied under Master Tarn. I know the provisions are inadequate.”
“I was just…”
“I know. Sorry.” Irvaine rubbed brutally at his face. “This whole confounded situation is a nightmare.”
Antano cleared his throat.
Brevand’s cold eyes fell on me from the shadows. An icy tingle tensed my spine as his bored gaze assessed my lack of attributes. Lord Irvaine didn’t bother to lift his head.
“What news do you bring?”
“Lady Solarius insisted on speaking with you.”
“I told you, Antano, I…” Irvaine finally lifted his face. He still hadn’t washed away the dirt. It ringed his eyes and stained his cheeks. He rested his elbows on his knees. Beneath the grime, he appeared haggard. He sighed. “Very well, my lady, what do you wish to say?”
“I have questions, my lord.”
He closed his eyes, resting his head against his fisted hands. “Leave us.”
The men exchanged a glance of confusion.
“But, my lord…” Brevand protested.
“Leave us, Brevand. You have provisions to recount and divide. Expect the worst and then return with the details.”
Brevand’s thin features flinched in anger before arranging into an expression of indifference. Unease tingled along my forearms, but I brushed it away. I needed to focus on the man with the answers.
As Brevand and Antano retreated into the sunshine outside, I studied the man who held all of our fates. His rough hands and muscled limbs were not the markings of a noble. He moved like a warrior, quick and purposeful.
My cousin Orwin’s hands were lean and weak. Despite his attempts to appear a strong man among men, his face remained permanently flushed from excessive wine and his belly soft.
“You have not been a noble long,” I observed.
“That is not a question.”
“Very well, what did you mean when you said I was yours?”
He lifted his head and regarded me intently as though weighing my reaction before breaking bad news. Finally he let out a sigh and thrust himself to his feet.
“We were married by proxy before King Mendal a month past in the presence of your cousin and the full gathering of nobles. The land, the village of Wisenvale, and your hand were given as gestures of loyalty by Lord Wisten, accepted by King Mendal, and imparted to me as gestures of peace.”
My head swam and the room tilted. I forced air into my lungs and closed my eyes. This stranger was my husband.
“I was given orders to marry you publicly before my men and take possession of this land.”
I was not alone in this. A fact I could not forget. All the women I witnessed that morning, forced to make a choice, were no better off than me. Nay, I preferred their lot. There was no selection before me. He already owned me.
“And the portioning out of the women?” I asked, hoping for more information.
“It is by order of the new king. He needs a resident force here at the border. There have been reports of activity among the robber barons on the other side of the river.”
The Varvail River marked the easternmost border of Rhynan. Only three days ago a hunting party stumbled through an abandoned campsite as close as the first ridge beyond the river. Soon winter would come. The snows and wind should keep any raiding ruffians at home. This far north the weather was a curse and a blessing. But come spring, the situation changed.
“Back to the matter at hand. I am honor bound to fulfill my duty, Lady Solarius, but you are not.”
Pulling myself from my thoughts, I focused on him. His dark eyes met mine as though he had never looked away, his expression unreadable. Intense and probing, his gaze left me no room to shy away.
“Are you suggesting I am without honor?” I pulled back my shoulders.
“Nay, lady, I suspect your measure exceeds most. I only wish to say I will not hold you to a promise made by another. If your father, or brother perhaps, granted your hand, I would feel more…at ease. But your cousin makes this whole scheme smell of deceit.”
His scrutiny made me want to squirm.
“I am nothing like my cousin, my lord. I do not scheme or plot. I have lived the simple life of a peasant. My hands bear callouses from laboring alongside the humblest in our village. I am not a delicate woman to be cosseted.”
“I can see that.”
I lifted my chin. Men frequently took exception to my height and direct manner. Bracing for a biting summation of my lack of virtues, I met his regard.
Instead he smiled. Well, not really. It was more of a lift to the left side of his mouth, as close to a smile as I had seen so far. The slight change warmed his eyes. Looking away, I grasped at my train of thought.
“I am not the kind of woman a rising noble should have by his side.”
He stepped closer. The smell of leather and dirt filled my nostrils. He was two handsbreadths from me.
“I am not a noble.”
I opened my mouth to protest the obvious, but he stalled me by raising his hand.
“I am a soldier, a man accustomed to grueling marches, meager fare, and long, cold nights sleeping in the dirt. Alive by the strength of my sword arm and the speed of my feet, I need a wife who can stand at my side, not cower behind me. The more I know of you, the better suited you appear, my lady. Should you have me, I would willingly take you to wife.”
“You are giving me a choice?”
“Aye.”
“And should I choose nay, what will happen to me?”
“You can marry your sweetheart.”
“I have none.”
“You nurse a secret yearning for one of the youths of the village? Or perhaps your beloved died?”
I peered at him. Was he jesting? “I have no romantic attachments.”
“Do you object to men?”
“No. What are you driving at?”
He flashed a balance-skewing grin. “I didn’t think I was that ugly.”
“You aren’t.”
I spoke truth. He wasn’t handsome, but I had never been inclined toward men proud of their face. He was tall, gaining on me by at least a handsbreadth. He possessed all of his hair and teeth, remarkable considering his line of work and his age. Judging by the creases in his face, he was at lea
st thirty. I eyed the traces of silver highlighted by the sunlight. Perhaps he was closer to forty-years-old.
“Then I suggest a solution. We marry. I will give you protection, children, and companionship. I believe we can hope for at least friendship, but…” He studied my face. “…I haven’t completely given up on the possibility of more. What do you say?”
In light of the sacrifice of the other women in my village, I had a duty. It was the obligation of every noblewoman to set an example. Mother lived the lessons she taught me until her death. Always gracious and supportive, she even accepted the introduction of Orwin into their household, never speaking a word against him. Orwin saw no reason to still his own tongue, however. I blackened his eyes a few times before he learned to not speak his insolence in my hearing.
This man would not be so easily directed. His life spoke to his skill with a sword. His position indicated he possessed some ability to learn. Memory of his control when I prodded his temper that morning reassured me that I would not be constantly warding off his blows. Still, his character remained untested.
I boldly studied his face again. A mask of indifference kept him guessing, I hoped.
“What is holding you back from decision?” he asked.
“What I do not know about you,” I answered. “I lack even the questionable reliability of second or third-hand witnesses.”
“I promise to never strike you in anger, if that is your fear. The rest, I am afraid, you are going to have to discover later.”
I could ask for more, but nothing at this point would completely reassure me. Closing my eyes and releasing a prayer to Kurios, I took a step of faith. “Yes.”
I didn’t really have many expectations for his response, but he defied the few I considered. He kissed me.
Rough, calloused hands held my head still as he took my mouth with his. There was no other way to describe it. Warm, commanding, yet gentle, and brief, he stepped away before I could respond. My heart thundered in my ears.
“Thank you. I will send Antano to guide you through the preparations for tonight.”
Then he was gone.
I stared at my cousin’s chair, once my father’s chair and now Lord Irvaine’s, and wondered what manner of man I agreed to marry. Nay, I was already his. What I just handed to him was my consent. Something he apparently valued very highly.
“My lady?” Antano waited just inside the outer door. “I am to take you to choose a marriage gift to give Lord Irvaine during the ceremony.”
I nodded numbly. Kurios, have mercy, I prayed. Only then did I realize I still carried Lord Irvaine’s helmet.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Four
Torches flared in the breeze, transforming the familiar village square into a sea of shifting light and shadows. Music—lute, tambourine, flute, and pulsing drum—stirred the spirit. My feet moved in time to the beat without volition. The mixture of familiar and foreign faces among the revelers set my instincts on edge. I never knew if the next person I met would leer or smile. It didn’t help that I no longer dressed as one of them.
A full skirt swished elegantly about my ankles with each step. The diaphanous emerald silk whispered against itself. I missed the reassuring warmth and weight of my rough linen and wool. Finer clothing, thinner shoes, and birth set me apart from them. I walked alone. I no longer belonged to the dancing crowd around me. I was his.
My stomach twisted. I swallowed with caution, suddenly thankful I had eaten nothing since early morn.
“Brielle!”
Loren plowed into me, wrapping her arms about my shoulders, pulling me down four inches to her level.
“I am so sorry, Brielle. Quaren just told me. You weren’t even given a choice.” She drew back to study my face.
“She has forgotten to tell you I also said Lord Irvaine will make a good husband.” Loren’s new husband stepped out of the crowd pulsing about us. His mild eyes smiled slightly at me in the flickering light.
“Are you a wife to evaluate such things?” Loren asked him sharply. “Besides, Brielle is hardly a typical woman. She rides, brawls, and works like a man. She doesn’t need a husband.”
“Unlike you?” Quaren tilted his head slightly and watched Loren’s features with amusement. A smile tugged at his mouth, lightening his features.
“Exactly.” Loren turned to mouth words missed. I didn’t catch the sounds in the din around us. The gleam in her eyes and heightened flush to her cheek gave me hope she would be happy with her new life.
“Have you met his daughter yet?”
“No. She will arrive in a few days with the supply wagons.” She grabbed my shoulders. “Bri, are you going to be alright? I can help you run if you want. I know where they are keeping the horses. It is only a few miles to the river. Once across it and into the hills, you would be free.”
“Nay, Loren, I have given my word.”
Her eyes grew round. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Did he touch you?er H They say you were alone with him for an hour, more than enough time to…”
I stopped her with a sharp shake of my head. Her husband stood close enough to overhear if the volume of the merrymaking slackened unexpectedly.
“This is my choice, Loren. I have given my word.”
“But, Brielle, will you be happy?”
“I have as much a chance at happiness as you, Loren.” I smiled at her and jutted my chin toward her spouse. “You seem quite settled already.”
Loren blushed to the tips of her ears. “He has been very sweet so far.”
“You chose well. Now wish me happy and go with him. It is almost time.”
The music stopped. Around us, voices hushed. The crowd parted, making a path for someone. Lord Irvaine strode toward me. A gold edged tunic of emerald emblazoned with the figure of a hart covered his chest. His dark hair, now dry, curled to his head. He had finally washed his face. He stopped at the edge of the open circle that hastily formed around Loren and myself.
“My lord.” Quaren bowed his head.
Loren curtsied.
I remained standing, meeting his inky-eyed scrutiny. “My lord.”
He lifted his right hand, extending it palm up toward me. “It is time. Are you ready?”
I felt Loren’s gaze on my face, but I didn’t lower my own to meet it. Kurios, give me strength, I prayed. Stepping forward, I laid my hand in his.
Together we walked toward the dais outlined in the glow of ten flaring torches. My hands trembled when I realized we would be standing on it before the village and his men. The officiate, the man with a twisted back from before, stood at the dais edge dressed in a heavily embroidered gray robe. The few hairs on his head danced in the breeze.
Irvaine squeezed my fingers. “I would prefer something more intimate, but the king decreed a public speaking of vows. He intends there should be no mistaking the validity of our marriage.”
“A bedding ceremony then.” I faltered at the thought.
His fingers tightened around mine. “Leave that to me. I will not see you humiliated.”
I opened my mouth to ask how he intended to accomplish it, but our arrival at the dais interrupted. We climbed the single step together and faced each other before the company. The old man wrapped our joined hands with a length of white silk. Beneath the fabric, Irvaine’s fingers cradled mine, warm and strong.
“Speak your vows after me. Make sure they are loud enough for all to hear.” The old man faced Lord Irvaine first.
“I am Tomas Nirren Dyrease, Earl of Irvaine.” Irvaine’s rich voice caught me off guard. I frowned up at him in surprise. The officiate had not spoken yet. “I do willingly speak these vows to Brielle Solarius.” His eyes locked with mine. An emotion I couldn’t name grabbed my attention. “I pledge my sword to your protection, my hands to your comfort, my shoulders to your provision, my children to your body, my heart to your heart.” With each phrase, he squeezed my fingers. My stomach tightened. His gaze, black in the torchlight, never wavered from my fac
e. “I take you as my wife.” A shiver shot through me. He meant every word.
“Repeat after me.” The officiate led me through my vows.
“I am Brielle Solarius, daughter of Tyranen Solarius, late Lord of Wisten. I do willingly speak these vows to Tomas Nirren Dyrease.” His name came surprisingly easy to my tongue. “I pledge my hands to your comfort, my body to your children, my loyalty to your cause, my means into your control.”
My gaze lost focus. I was handing my future to this man. Cold gripped my core as I realized the full implications of my words. I could not speak against him or deny him anything he desired of me. Everything I possessed belonged to him. My hands shook as my thoughts filled with visions of our children. He now held their lives in his hands as well.
“Brielle?” Irvaine’s suddenly painful grip on my hands brought my gaze up to meet his. Worry bracketed his eyes in wrinkles. His dark brows lowered, but concern, not anger shone in his eyes. “Breathe slowly and focus. One sentence more.”
“I take you as my husband,” the officiate prompted.
I only whispered the words, but it was enough for the officiate. “Bring forth the gifts!” He waved dramatically.
My middle ached and darkness edged my vision. I blinked. Perhaps I should have eaten something.
“Brielle?” Irvaine’s voice came from far away.
My knees gave out. Someone caught me as I fell, but oblivion took over before I figured out whose arms held me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Five
“I can’t believe you forgot to feed her!”
The man’s voice resonated in my head, jerking me to awareness but leaving my sense of balance behind. I took five steadying breaths before opening my eyes. By then, Irvaine’s voice grew soft with restrained anger.
“I gave her into your care, Antano, because I trusted you. I thought that you of all my men would know how to treat a lady. Now I see that I was wrong.”
Duty: a novel of Rhynan Page 2