Betrothed

by Wanda Wiltshire

‘Marla, what is this? Are these tears of happiness?’ He lifted my face and peered into my eyes as he wiped my tears away.

  I couldn’t put off the inevitable; I took a long breath, released it quickly, then told him, ‘I have to go back.’

  ‘Of course—we need to inform your family. But we have won, Marla. You will be permitted to make Faera your home.’ He pulled me to him again.

  ‘Leif, I have to think of more than us. I can’t leave my family. They would be devastated. My sister’s going through a bad time and my parents need me, you saw how upset they were this morning . . . and my father’s not well.’ I felt sick as the last words left my mouth.

  He took a step away from me, looked into my eyes as he said, ‘You’ve not spoken of these things before.’

  I dropped my eyes to my feet. ‘Because I didn’t think I would need to. I didn’t want to hurt you, and . . . I thought the assembly would decide against me.’

  ‘So the tears this morning? The fear?’

  ‘Real tears, Leif, and real fear because I knew no matter what, I couldn’t leave my family.’ I could feel myself choking on the lies. I swallowed hard. Leif gripped my chin and brought my eyes to his again. He looked utterly confused.

  ‘This makes no sense, Marla. Faera is your home. You are needed here.’

  ‘I can’t abandon my family. You don’t know what it’s like for me.’ I hated this deception and more than anything I hated Leif’s father for making me do it.

  ‘You can spend all the time you wish with your family—both of your families, human and Fae. You can have it all.’

  How I wished it were true.

  ‘It’s not enough. Dad’s really sick, he needs me.’ I prayed he couldn’t tell I was lying.

  ‘Marla, I need you.’

  ‘I can’t stay here.’

  ‘You would give up Faera? You would give up me?’ His expression was more astonished than anything else.

  ‘Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Please don’t try to force me to stay.’

  ‘Force you to stay? I hope you know I would never force you to do anything. I have watched my father dominate my mother all of my life. I would never do that to you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean . . . I know you would never treat me badly. I don’t want . . . I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘There is always a choice. I don’t understand any of this. I know it would not be possible for me to put anything or anyone before you and your happiness.’ His own words should have been the only clue he needed to my insincerity.

  ‘If that’s true, then just let me go back to my family.’

  ‘It would make you happy to leave me?’

  ‘Yes,’ I lied, not really expecting him to believe it.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You are not being honest, Marla. What are you keeping from me?’

  ‘I just want to go home. My father’s sick, I need to be with him and I want my friends and family.’ The stress of it all was making me tremble. I felt weak from my head to my toes and thought I might collapse at any moment.

  There was silence for a time as Leif’s narrowed eyes studied my teary ones. The expression on his face was unreadable and when finally he spoke, his words were excruciating. ‘If you leave me, Marla, you will not become the Fae queen you were born to be, and I will be forced to choose another.’

  Could he mean it? Was it possible? Could he just replace me like a pair of old shoes? For a moment I thought he might be testing me because he seemed to be watching for a reaction, his eyes not once leaving mine. So even though his words cut my heart in two, I tried, with everything inside of me, not to give him that reaction. But it was impossible because suddenly I realised that of course he meant it, he was prince and I was just . . . me. My breath caught on a choking sob and fresh tears poured down my face. My head was spinning and I felt myself begin to crumble.

  But before I could fall, Leif caught me in his arms and pulled me against him, kissed my tears away. ‘You must not worry, Marla. You must have faith in me. Everything will be all right. You will be all right.’

  ‘How can I? I have to leave you,’ I cried.

  ‘I know, I know, my love, but hush now.’ And then he captured my lips with his and sent me to sweet oblivion with his power. When I was calm he said, ‘It will be easiest for you if my mother escorts you home.’

  He held me for a while longer, dropping farewell kisses on my face and hair. And then he released me and told me goodbye.

  I wanted to scream, to pummel my fists into his chest, to accuse him of not fighting for me, not loving me enough. Somehow I managed to stand quietly as he left the room.

  When he was gone, I collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t know how to feel. I was fairly sure I’d been successful in convincing him, but how could he have believed me? At the same time I wanted to sigh with relief, hurl something across the room and curl up and die. I allowed the whirlpool of emotions to claim me, slumping into myself and letting the great tidal wave of grief have me.

  I’d cried a lake of tears by the time Atara crept into the room a few minutes later. She came and sat silently beside me, her hand resting feather light on my shoulder. ‘Leif has asked me to take you home, Marla . . . I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ I murmured. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘I am sorry I cannot help you. Sorry also that things have turned out the way they have.’ Then she bent over me, leaned close to my ear and whispered, ‘And sorry for whatever my husband has threatened you with to make you feel the need to give up my son.’

  Frightened, I turned sharply and looked at her. ‘He’s done nothing, it’s my decision.’

  ‘Hush, let’s leave it at that then,’ she said quickly.

  But I knew she realised the truth, so why didn’t Leif? And then the answer came to me. It was because he was prince—a prideful male of the royal bloodline.

  ‘Atara, do you know what happened to my parents?’ I whispered.

  ‘Only that Finelle and her husband were captured in Constantine. I don’t know what became of them after that.’

  ‘Do you think they’re still alive?’

  ‘It would surprise me were they not. My husband loved your mother. He would not allow any real harm to come to her.’

  Atara was giving her husband way more credit than he deserved. I wondered if she would feel the same if she was privy to the threats he’d made against her and her son. She was living in a dream world. She clearly had no idea of what the king was capable of. Better for her to remain ignorant—it’s not like she could do anything about it. It’s not like she wasn’t trapped, locked away from her betrothed and forced into the arms of a monster. It’s not like it would be balm to her peace of mind to know the truth. But I needed to know how she did it; how she endured being with King Telophy knowing her betrothed was out there somewhere.

  ‘King Telophy told me about your betrothed.’

  Atara sighed. ‘I wish he had not.’

  ‘How can you stay with him knowing your betrothed is alive?’

  ‘He is my husband.’

  ‘But your betrothed—he’s out there somewhere.’

  ‘Marla, Telophy is also my king . . . I love him.’

  Of course she loved him. She didn’t have a choice, hadn’t been given one. Just like me, she was his victim.

  ‘I guess I understand.’

  ‘I don’t think you do. But in any case, Leif must not find out my betrothed lives.’

  ‘I won’t be seeing him to tell him,’ I said and felt a surge of nausea as the words left my lips. ‘But why wouldn’t you want him to know?’

  ‘Because my son believes I had nothing to lose by marrying his father. I don’t wish to shatter that illusion.’

  ‘He’s ruined so many lives,’ I murmured.

  Atara sighed. ‘My husband is king, Marla. He has enormous power and responsibility. But he is also proud and has been injured—in ways that no other king I know of has. When he has hurt those close to him, it h
as been the fault of all these factors combined.’

  She was making excuses for him! How could she, after all the lives he’d ruined? Mine, Leif’s, my parents’, her own—the list went on. Why should he get away with it? The assembly had granted me my freedom, they had voted to allow me to live my life in Faera. The depths to which King Telophy had sunk to have his way were terrible. The injustice of it made me furious. I needed to vent, freely and openly and to people who loved me and wouldn’t try to defend him.

  ‘Can you please take me home now, Atara?’

  She helped me gather my possessions. I paused only to stare long and hard at the beautiful portrait of my betrothed, then I tucked it into my bag along with my jewellery box and clothes before quickly wiping away the tear that was threatening to spill.

  ‘I’m ready, Atara,’ I said, my voice breaking.

  ‘Come then, Marla,’ she replied with a sad smile. Then she took my hand and led me away from Faera.

  Away from my home.

  When I arrived back in Caringbah, I went straight to my room to call Jack. I punched in the number and waited impatiently for him to answer.

  ‘Marla, hey.’

  I was silent for a long moment as the relief at hearing his voice overwhelmed me.

  ‘Jack,’ I whispered. It was almost impossible to speak.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I could hear the panic in his voice. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I need you.’

  ‘I’m there,’ he said and hung up the phone.

  While I waited for my best friend, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the envelope Atara had pressed into my hands as she said goodbye at the front door. It was small and square, the paper—I’d learned from my grandfather Leander the day he’d shown me his poetry—made from the silky cream bark of the saftir tree. In the centre of the envelope, in Leif’s elegant script was one word, Marla.

  I ran my finger slowly across my name, wondering what Leif had been feeling when he wrote it there. Had he been sad that he was losing me? Angry that I had chosen to put my life on Earth above him? I didn’t know. I turned the letter over, swallowed a moan at the sight of his emblem—mark of his royal birth pressed into the pale sap of the Endolan tree—mark of the impossibility of us ever being together. For a moment, I thought I might actually break the seal. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d cried all the tears I wanted to cry today, and I knew that whatever was written inside would only make me cry some more. Maybe I would feel more able to face it in the morning—or maybe not. I sat staring at the letter for a while longer as the memories of that last meeting with Leif swirled in my head. How had he believed my lies? Tears filled my eyes again. This pain was unbearable, and so heavy. It was as though weights were attached to my soul, dragging it into darkness, taking my body with it. How could I possibly survive it? Somehow I had to shut Leif from my mind. But then a sickening reality occurred to me—to lose Leif was to also lose Lysander. For how could I find my twin without the help of my betrothed? And oh, what would become of him? A sob broke free of my throat as more tears slid from my eyes. I dropped my face into my hands to muffle the noise and gave into a fresh round of crying.

  I didn’t know how much time had passed when a gentle knock roused me from my sorrow—Jack. I quickly dried my eyes with the corner of my quilt. Then I rose from the bed and took my jewellery box from the bag I’d brought with me from Faera. I placed the box in the centre of my dressing table, folding Leif’s letter inside, together with the one from my missing parents. Then I closed the lid and turned the key, locking them both away before opening the bedroom door and falling into the open arms of my best friend.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First, I give my most fervent thanks to God for using the foolish things and answering prayers.

  Now for the humans, and I must take a deep breath as there are so many who have supported me on my journey to publication. In order to reduce the chances of leaving anyone out, I will start at the beginning and work my way through. I give my thanks to:

  My father, Alan, for the books he read to me as a child and the stories he tells me to this day. My mother, Pamela, for her warm heart and provision of a secure place to run to. Sharon, for being the best sister in the world and making my life less lonely. Margot Dwarshuis, for choosing the awkward girl and for the fun and adventure that followed. And Kevin, for that all important introduction.

  My children, for the joy they have brought me, the love they have surrounded me with and the lessons I have learnt from them. Declan, for introducing me to the overpowering sensation of mother love. Bridget—girl whirlwind—without whom my writing career might not have begun. Patrick, for infusing me with peace from the moment of his birth. And Connor, for being such a little trouper whenever his mum is lost in her world.

  Genevieve Anderson who came into my life at the precise moment I needed her, and who supported me through the darkest, most trying time, helping me finally to find my way into the light.

  Christine Rowley Gollan, my first reader, who loved Betrothed passionately and found not a single fault with the mammoth and infant manuscript—Music to a new writer’s ears!

  Anna Gunning, wonderful friend, personal organiser and early reader, her husband Paul for mountains of printing and their daughter Jacinta for being such a help with her little God brother.

  Anne Dale, good friend, fellow lover of writing and early reader and editor of Betrothed.

  Pamela Cook, teacher, friend and author extraordinaire, for gentle guidance, patience and a wealth of writing knowledge, and her daughter Georgia Nelson for early feedback.

  Krystina Pecorari-Mcbride, fabulous friend and talented writer, for endless and perfect understanding, unfailing loyalty and wonderful ideas. And emails—days and nights of emails!

  Kerry Rogerson, great friend and gifted writer, for crystal prayers, noticing the little things and nights of merlot laughter, and for that necessary and wondrous road trip.

  Sharon Ketelaar, for fabulous editing skills.

  B. Michael Radburn, excellent author and good kind man, for his generosity of heart, great advice and of course an invitation to the launch of his first novel.

  My consultant, Alex Adsett who helped me to unravel the mysteries of becoming a published author.

  My editor, Kylie Mason, who taught me the importance of not gazing through ones eyelashes and committing other such clichéd writing offences.

  Desanka Vukelich for sharp eyed proof reading skills, my typesetter Graeme Jones from Kirby Jones for putting the finished manuscript into book form and Karen Young for her work on print production.

  Hannah Robinson and Jon McDonald from Xou Creative for creating a truly enchanting cover, Trudy Johnston for organising publicity, and media agency AMBA & Media 20/20.

  My makeup artist Emma Sportswood for doing such an amazing job with what she had to work with and my photographer Cowan Whitfield for making me laugh and producing some beautiful shots.

  All who have called me friend over the years and everyone at Pantera Press for the support they have given me over these past long months.

  Finally, to my brilliant and supportive publishers, John Green and Alison Green—granters of wishes, makers of singing hearts and enthusiastic Betrothed lovers. Thank you for your patience, graciousness and warm welcome to the Pantera Press family. Also to Alison for a smile that hints at fae origins, radiating enough warmth and light to put the most nervous person at ease.

  If you enjoyed Betrothed

  then look out for

  the next book in the series

  coming in 2014

  ALLEGIANCE

  For more information, please visit:

  www.PanteraPress.com

  WANDA WILTSHIRE

  Wanda Wiltshire has long been a lover of reading and writing. As a child she was often found spellbound by a novel stashed beneath her desk or tucked between the pages of her geography book. Alternatively she could be found sketching or penning poetry during ma
ths and science lessons.

  Wanda has also always been an incurable dreamer, each of her school reports a testament to her pastime of staring out of classroom windows. But now that she is long grown and has finally found her passion for writing novels, Wanda puts her daydreaming to good use, spending many long and satisfying moments gazing across the sea cavorting with fairies and other magical creatures as she develops scenes and storylines for her latest work.

  Betrothed is the first in Wanda’s young adult fantasy series. It is the exciting story of a girl caught between two worlds—Earth and the enchanting land of Faera.

  First published in 2013 by Pantera Press Pty Limited

  www.PanteraPress.com

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is copyright, and all rights are reserved.

  Text copyright © Wanda Wiltshire, 2013

  Wanda Wiltshire has asserted her moral rights to be identified as the author of this work.

  Design and typography copyright © Pantera Press Pty Limited, 2013

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  This is a work of fiction, though it may refer to some real events or people. Names, characters, organisations, dialogue and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, firms, events or locales is coincidental or used for fictional purposes.

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