Excerpt

I did not sleep well that night — an apt punishment for my behavior, I thought. And although I had no real interest in what I wore, the following day I allowed Sendra to dress me in my favorite dark blue gown, the one with the green embroidery around the neck and sleeves. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that perhaps if I appeared subdued and modest and like a good, dutiful daughter, my father would find it in his heart to forgive me. Surely he could not stay angry with me forever.

Since I received no further instructions about remaining in my room, I deemed it safe enough to go downstairs. The light was fine this morning, so I thought it best to go to the solar and take up my embroidery. Again, this notion was born of the idea that doing so would make me look like a well-behaved and biddable child, and not the young woman who had brought such shame on the family the day before. Besides, I did enjoy needlework, for it gave me a chance to show that I was accomplished at something.

It was in the solar that my father found me; it appeared that he had been riding, for he wore his high boots, and a faint scent of leather and horse sweat accompanied him. I did not know whether this was a good sign or not, for while my father enjoyed riding very much, especially during such pleasant, mild weather as we'd been enjoying lately, he also tended to rise early and ride if his thoughts were troubled and he needed time to sort through them.

Unfortunately, I had a feeling that his reasons for riding this morning had everything to do with the latter, and not because he wanted to spend some time in the sunshine.

Still, I made myself pretend as best I could that everything was well between us, and raised my head from my embroidery and smiled as he entered the solar. That smile faltered as soon as I caught a glimpse of his stormy expression, but I knew that to allow my smile to disappear entirely would look even worse.

"Good morning, Father," I said, and secured my needle in the heavy linen so I need not worry about dropping it while we spoke.

"Marenna," he replied.

Oh, dear. Was he so angry that he could not even wish me a good morning, even if such words were nothing more than an empty pleasantry? Still, I did not know how I should proceed, having never experienced such treatment from him before. I had to do something to break the heavy silence which fell between us, though, for with every second that passed, it seemed to grow more awkward.

"I thought perhaps I could send the Duke of Marric's Rest a letter of apology, by way of smoothing things over," I ventured. This was a notion that had occurred to me during the depths of the restless night I had just passed. Whether or not it would do any good, I couldn't be certain, but surely there was at least a small chance that Lord Sorthannic would soften slightly when he realized my unguarded comments hadn't been malicious in nature.

"You will do no such thing," my father replied. "For to send such a letter will only be pouring more salt on his wounds. No, best to let it lie, and hope that he forgets sooner rather than later. If he is finally searching for a wife after all this time, we can only hope that he will be otherwise occupied."

"But — "

"No." The word was flat, and brooked no further argument. I stared up at my father, searching his face for some indication that he would not carry this grudge forever, but I saw none. His lips were pressed together and his gaze cool as he looked down at me, as though I was a stranger and not the daughter he had raised for the past nineteen years. "In fact, I spent this past night thinking about what you did, and how you behaved. I was following your late mother's wishes when I allowed you to make your own choice of husband, but I think that game has gone on for far too long. It is clear to me that you have no desire to select a man to be your spouse, no matter how worthy he might be. For you to reject a duke of the realm — "

"Who looked like he might be one of the corraghar, the wild men who roam the hills of North Eredor," I broke in, unable to contain myself any longer. "Surely I am allowed some discretion in my choice?"

If possible, my father's lips thinned even further. "No, I think not. My patience is spent, Marenna. I have let it be known that the first man to pass through the doors of this castle who is not already a member of the household may have your hand in marriage. Perhaps seeing the hand of the gods at work in such a thing will teach you a little humility."

Aghast, I leapt up from my chair. "Father, you cannot mean that!"

"I do," he said, his expression hard. "You had your chance — you have had multiple chances — and yet you spent them all foolishly, believing yourself to be above such things. I am not sure of your reasoning, save that perhaps you either thought yourself better than all those who came to pay you court, or you had no wish for marriage at all, and preferred a life of leisure spent under my roof. Either way, you will find yourself sorely out of luck." He paused there, his gaze flickering about the solar, with its hangings of silk and the warm light that poured in through the mullioned windows. "Enjoy this luxury while you may, for there is a very good chance that it will not last much longer."

Having delivered this pronouncement, he turned and exited the room, leaving me to stare after him in dismay. Worry churned within me. How could he have decided upon such a cruel thing? Was this all just a terrible jest? No, unless I did not know my father at all, he had meant every word he said. And I somehow knew this was not a matter that could be solved by such stratagems as teasing cajolery, or a pleasing smile, as I had used in the past to get myself out of trouble with him. He was angry, angrier than I had ever seen him before.

All I could do now was await my doom.