Betrothed (3 page)

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Seri’s mouth at his flirty manner. “Enough to buy a few things to keep us fed for a couple of days,” she said. “These Athonites seem to like Josdi’s needlework, and that gave us enough for a good deal of flour and a bit of butter.”

Jovis snorted and shook his head, biting into a newly bought apple that made her mouth water. “Athonites are a wasteful bunch, are they not?”

Rilen touched her cheek in a possessive gesture, then looked back at Maester Grimald’s booth. He moved closer to her, his eyes on one of the guards that strolled nearby. “Do you have anything for me?”

So it was true, then. Fear clenched through her. If Rilen was messing with the rebels, he’d be in danger, and so would she, by association. “Rilen, I don’t want you fooling with those people. It’s dangerous.”

“You’d rather live as a slave for the rest of your days, then?” His mouth twisted and he gave her an impatient look. “We do this for all our people, Seri. Not just you or me or Jovis.”

She sighed. It was futile to argue with him. “Tomorrow. Noon.”

Rilen’s eyes gleamed. “Good girl. So did you buy yourself something pretty for our handfast? It’s only a few weeks away.”

“It’s hard to buy material for a new dress when your stomach rumbles, silly man.” She took the sting out of her words with a teasing smile. “I spent my coins on supplies instead.”

“I know you work too hard.” He took her hand in his own and turned it over, displaying the calluses like a shameful badge before pressing a kiss onto her palm. “When you become my wife, that will change.”

“Does your family not eat?” She smiled and snatched her hand away for the second time that day. “Why is it everyone is fascinated with the state of my hands?”

A possessive look swept over Rilen’s normally laughing features and he took a step closer to Seri, his eyes searching her face. “Who else has been touching you?”

Uneasy, Seri moved to the far side of her mule, trailing a hand along Bialla’s rump as she did so. “No one important. A lady from the castle made me a proposition, that’s all.” She laughed to make the words light.

He wouldn’t let it go. “What sort of proposition?”

She made a show of tightening the worn straps on Bialla’s harness. “Nothing much. She wants to show off at some ceremony they’re having a few days from now and wanted a little Vidari lapdog at her side to draw attention to herself.” Seri was unable to keep the disgust out of her voice. “Offered me three
dru
for the sevenday, too.”

“A sevenday?” Rilen glanced over at Jovis, who took another bite of his juicy apple. “And you’d live in the castle?”

“I believe so.” Seri eyed him with unease. The Rilen she knew would have pitched a fit at the thought of her debasing herself for a few Athoni coins. Instead, he stroked his chin, regarding her much in the same speculative fashion that Lady Mila had.

Seri grew uncomfortable at his gaze. “What are your thoughts?”

“Think, Seri,” he began, following her around the mule and taking her hands off the harness to squeeze them. “If you’re inside the inner walls of the palace, you’ll have access to everything that goes on inside. Everything that we can only wonder about.” His voice grew excited.

Oh no. Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand, Rilen. I would be a plaything for one of their spoiled ladies. A mockery of our people dressed up for their enjoyment.”

“Let them laugh! You can find out what the big celebration is for and what the prince intends. We can use this knowledge for the rebellion!” Excitement danced in his eyes and he wrapped her in his arms. “Say you’ll do it, Seri! Think of the things we could learn! You’ll be responsible for helping to free our people from the yoke of the interlopers.”

“But my father and my sister,” she protested, weakening in the sight of his excitement. Humiliation or no, it
would
be three
dru
… and she cared more about the money than being a hero.

Rilen shook his head at her. “I’ll visit them every day and make sure that they’re well. It’s only for a sevenday, and think of how you’ll help our cause. When we find what the Athonites intend, we can find out the best time to strike! Soon we shall bring the castle down and the land will belong to the Vidari once more.”

“Rilen, I don’t know.” The thought of spending a week inside the enormous stone walls of the palace, alone and friendless and an object of scorn—it frightened her. What if more of the soldiers came upon her? Would they stop at mocking her? Or would they take it one step further, as she was Vidari and therefore unimportant? She had heard tales the other girls told at gatherings, of soldiers and what they did to helpless Vidari women in dark alleys.

Rilen’s hands clasped her cheeks and he forced her to look into his eyes. “I love you, Seri. I’ll come and see you every day, trust me. Won’t you do it for me? For us? So our children won’t have to grow up under Athoni rule?”

He leaned in and kissed her fiercely, and at some point, she must have said yes, because it was decided.

~~* * * ~~

That night, she had disturbing dreams. In them, her mouth pressed against a man’s, her naked body twined with his. Hands on hot flesh were everywhere, and her body craved something, anything, as she pulled him closer to her. The glow surrounding the two of them was blinding, the light in her bedroom bright enough to be midday, obscuring the face of her lover. When his luminescent body moved over hers and she parted her legs to invite him into her flesh, she saw his face.

The face in her dream was not Rilen’s, but that of the handsome, cold Athoni nobleman, his dark eyes burning into her own as he possessed her.

Seri awoke with a gasp.

Chapter Two

With Josdi’s sobs ringing in her ears and her sick father’s angry admonitions in her mind, Seri showed up at the gates to the castle the next morning anyhow, alone and on foot.

Rilen had declined to go with her at the last minute—disappointing, but she couldn’t argue with his logic.
If they see me here
, he had told her,
and then see me again when we carry out our plan, it might cast blame upon your shoulders.

The last thing she wanted was for the Athoni prince’s wrath to be brought down on her own shoulders—and thus on Josdi and Father. So she had gone alone to the castle, her heart thudding in her breast, palms sweaty.

She had dressed in her cleanest and least-worn dress, but the guards still snickered at the sight of her. To them she was a poor goosegirl with bare legs and loose hair, waiting patiently on her betters. Farmers were allowed into the outer bailey for the night market, but the inner gates had always been closed to her kind.

One of the guards approached, fingering his sword and eyeing her with a lascivious gaze. “Well, well, what have we here? A bit of fine wild deer to come and whet our appetites?”

Her cheeks red with humiliation, Seri glared at the man, resisting the urge to dart away and forget the entire matter. “I am here to see Lady Mila.” When he didn’t move, she added, “She has asked me to come and be her servant.”

“Has she now?” He guffawed and elbowed the guard next to him. “I didn’t realize that Lady Mila was in the habit of taking in the local trash.”

“She has asked to see me,” Seri repeated, holding herself stiff. “Please let her know I am here at her request.”

The guard waved another man off and refocused his attention on Seri. “If we find out you’re lying, are you going to make it up to me for wasting my time, little wild girl?” He ran a finger down her arm. “Been a few moons since me and the boys have tasted a woman.”

Seri jerked away from him and stepped to the side, averting her gaze as she waited. She prayed that Lady Mila would remember her and was not simply teasing her with promises she had no intention of keeping.

“So is it true that Vidari don’t kneel to anyone? Because if you’re going to be in the castle, little deer, you’ll have to kneel to the prince.” The guard’s eyes were hot on her. “The Athonites insist that you kneel to your betters to show them respect. In fact, I could have you kneel right now, couldn’t I?”

Oh gods, please leave me alone.
She remained silent, trying to ignore him.

“Look at me,” the guard said, grasping her arm. “Why don’t you kneel for me right now?”

“Vidari only kneel to the gods themselves,” she said, her voice stiff as she jerked her arm from his. “Not to men.”

“Ah yes, your crazy little pagan beliefs,” he said with a laugh. “Dozens of gods looking out for your poor, downtrodden little people.”

Her face burned under her tan, but she didn’t look at him, even when he stepped in front of her. She could argue that they only worshiped four gods—one for each of the seasons—but to the Athonites, that was three too many.

“I’ve heard,” the guard said, leaning in, his fetid breath hot against her neck, “that you Vidari girls like to be taken roughly… and you fight the whole time. I think I’d like that—”

“Faren,” the second guard spoke up, returning. “Lady Mila is here.”

The guard straightened and turned away from Seri, his hand moving to the respectful gesture of touching his forehead at the sight of a lady. “Lady de Vray,” he said, stepping away. “We did not think that she was telling the truth. That you would—”

“What you think is not my concern.” Lady Mila de Vray stood at the gates, a welcome figure despite the proud look on her face. She was dressed in an impractical white dress of flowing silk, three women lingering behind her, fussing over her hem, and ensuring that it never touched the dirt at her feet. She was cold, beautiful, and foreign.

Seri had never been so glad to see an Athonite in her life. Furthermore, she was pleased to see that the lady’s scathing looks were not saved for Vidari alone.

Lady Mila eyed the crude soldier and then dismissed him with a flick of her eyes. Her gaze rested on Seri, but only for a heartbeat longer. “My newest handmaiden is here, I see.” She looked over at the simpering soldiers. “I should like for her to be cleaned and then escorted to my apartments. See to it.”

A grin broke across the soldier’s face, just as panic set into Seri’s heart. “Yes, lady,” he announced, terrible pleasure in his voice.

“Not you, fool,” Lady Mila snapped. “My handmaid Winna will see to the girl. You will ascertain that neither Winna nor the new girl are accosted by any other savages in their duties. I do not trust these wild lands.” With a haughty sniff, Lady Mila disappeared back into the palace gates, trailed by her retinue. A young woman remained behind, her black hair pulled up severely on her head and the same austere, arrogant look on her face that Lady Mila wore.

“Well?” Winna spoke in a thin, nasal voice, regarding Seri as she might a dog. “Filth does not clean itself. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can dress you in something appropriate and less vulgar.”

The handmaid’s dress, Seri noted, was long and swept the ground, revealing not even her shoes. The collar of it was high and tight, the sleeves long. Her skin was hidden from the chin down, and tiny beads of sweat glimmered on her brow, thanks to the heat of the Vidara lands.

Her hopes fell at the sight of the severe, overdressed woman. Is that what she had to look forward to for the next few days?

Three
dru
, she reminded herself.
Rilen’s information.

She pasted a fake smile on her face and touched her forehead in the same gesture of respect that the men used. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Indeed,” Winna said.

~~* * * ~~

Being “cleaned,” Seri learned, was a humiliating process all on its own. As she stood in the entryway to the stable, Winna dumped another bucket of water over her head and handed her soap. “Again,” the woman instructed her for the third time. “Wash your skin again. It still looks dirty.”

Seri’s skin smarted after being scrubbed so many times. She handed the soap back to Winna, trying to keep the expression on her face pleasant. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is my natural color. Not dirt.” The strongest Athoni soap in the land wouldn’t change her sunbrowned skin to a milky night-pale like Winna’s.

In response, the handmaid snorted inelegantly and tossed another bucket of water in Seri’s face. “If you want to remain covered in filth, so be it.”

Gasping in shock at the cold, Seri crossed her arms over her chest for warmth and to hide her flesh from the too-interested soldiers that loitered nearby. Her thin, threadbare linen dress was clinging to her body like a second skin. She shoved a wet handful of hair out of her eyes and scowled at Winna. “I assure you that I bathe on a regular basis. This is…” She struggled to find a polite word. “…unnecessary.”

And if that sour-faced girl tossed another bucket of water in her face, she’d throw her down in the mud, Athonite or no.

“My lady values cleanliness,” Winna responded. “It would bring shame upon her name for you to trail filth through her apartments.”

Before Seri could respond to such a ringing endorsement, Winna flicked a hand in Seri’s direction. “Follow me.” Without bothering to see if she was followed, the woman took off across the courtyard, her steps exacting and unerring.

Mystified by Winna’s abrupt change, Seri wrapped her arms around her wet dress to conceal her body, trailing behind her. The handmaiden led her across the courtyard in precise, unhurried footsteps, through the large stone gates and up a narrow flight of stairs.

The castle itself was a marvel to her farm-born eyes. She had heard the ancient stories of the builders, but never in her lifetime had the keep been inhabited. She’d never dreamed that she’d enter the halls on her own. They were breathtaking—cool marble soared overhead, and striations of varying color allowed the eye to float upward to the arching ceiling covered with colored frescoes. Beneath her bare feet, orderly squares of marble patterned across the floor, so different from the dirt floor of her small farmhouse.