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She’d continued to speak of an acquaintance who had a granddaughter born with the brightest of blond hair who suffered to have it shorn and wore wigs as soon as she came of an age where she outgrew the simple bonnets worn by girls. None of that made Arie feel any better as she watched the red curls float around her as they drifted to the floor. Staring at those discarded lengths falling to the floor, she could only think of how much her mates had loved touching her hair.
The black wig she’d been given to replace her tresses had long silky lengths styled in the most fashionable way. Looking in the mirror, she had been shocked at the elegant lady staring back at her. No one back in the village would have ever recognized her. She didn’t even recognize herself and that knowledge made her heart sink. She doubted her mates would even know her on sight and that bothered her more than anything else. She’d barely restrained her resentment as the maids tightened her corset and spritzed her with a fine floral perfume distilled from roses to meet the satisfaction of Lady Vera who nodded with approval at the results.
After that, Arie saw no one for days except for the maids with her regular meal trays or an infrequent visit from her grandmother, and she once again wasn’t allowed to leave her room. That morning, however, the maids were gossiping and giggling with some uncharacteristic excitement and Arie had been primped and encased in silk before being left in the parlor under the watchful eye of the guards.
Those same guards now suddenly stepped aside and Arie stiffened as the parlor door opened. Her grandmother’s willowy figure immediately filled the entryway as she walked in, the doors closing quietly behind her. A tight smile graced her painted lips as she approached.
“I am certain you have many questions,” Vera observed.
“I do.”
A thin hand rose into the air. “All in good time. Today is a rather momentous occasion. We have a distinguished visitor arriving who has been looking forward to meeting you for some time. He’s been quite patient while the huntsmen searched for you, and then again during your recovery. First Elite Edwar is coming with his personal physician to examine your suitability for himself.”
Her grandmother clapped her hands together in a poor parody of youthful jubilation, her thin ruby lips widening in a grotesque grin. After so long around her Ragoru, she’d long ago become accustomed to their more subtle expressions. The baring of teeth to such a degree was at once both alarming and jarring to Arie.
No less frightening was the weight of her grandmother’s expectations. Lady Vera expected Arie to join with Edwar, a complete stranger and against her wishes. The very idea of letting a man touch her made her physically ill. Taking in what was no doubt a mutinous expression on Arie’s face, the delight on her grandmother’s face slowly knitted into a dour scowl.
“Do not look so unhappy about this. Many young ladies would love to be so honored.”
“So why doesn’t he go call on them then?” Arie muttered. “Or call back his wives.”
“Nonsense. Our family is one of the oldest in the Citadel. While you have plenty of cousins who have attempted to attract Edwar’s attention, it is you who are a direct descendant of Lady Felicity Anwar, first priestess and oracle of the Holy Mother during the time of the great revival. Joining with you will cement the legitimacy of the Order in the mind of the populace once more, not only in the Citadel, but in surrounding territories and sister citadels. The people will take to whatever you align yourself with and vocally support. As I’ve said, this would have happened earlier if your mother had not been so selfish in her choices, but the Mother has seen to it that we are favored at last.”
Arie bit back a laugh. “Are you telling me that the people are going to see me as some sort of mystic connected to a distant ancestor I have never heard of until recently?”
Her grandmother narrowed her eyes. “Indeed.”
“I do hate to disappoint them, but I am hardly a sibyl.”
Lady Vera snorted and waved a hand with a dramatic flourish. “Don’t be absurd. No one is expecting you to deliver oracles. There is already an oracle who fulfils this role, as there has been since Felicity’s time. It doesn’t hurt, however, to have a bit of ‘divine inspiration’ given from a descendant of the line in the right direction.”
“If this was so important to you, why didn’t you marry into the Order?”
A sneer twisted her grandmother’s face. “Had it been possible, I would have. Unfortunately, you do not inherit the line through me, but through my deceased husband Charles. He was his mother’s only child, but because he was born male he was born outside of the line. His mother was the last Lady descendant until I bore from him my daughter. Elizabet was adored throughout the whole Citadel, but instead of embracing it, she joined with your wastrel father and ran away to hide deep within the Great Woods.”
She saw her grandmother’s knuckles whiten on her cane, her face hardening. She understood then what a formidable force her mother had faced when she’d sought her own life, starting new so far away from the reach of her mother and the Citadel. Elizabet had been a calm, modest soul, and would never have felt comfortable with Lady Vera’s ambition. And just that quickly she understood why her mother had never returned to the Citadel after the death of her husband.
Arie’s train of thought was interrupted when the door opened wide. Her grandmother’s personal butler, Phillip, stepped in with his spotless dark jacket, waistcoat, and perfectly starched shirt. His hair was greased so thoroughly that Arie doubted a stiff wind would stir it. He stepped to the side to make room for the two gentlemen trailing after him.
“Lady Vera, First Elite Edwar and Master Physician Wallace have arrived.”
Her grandmother’s face lit up as a man stepped forward, his body noticeably thick with muscle and defined as it strained against his pressed clothing. His hair was midnight black except where it was graying at the temples and in the middle of his carefully manicured goatee. He handed his dark blue huntsman cloak over to Phillip and strode into the room like he owned it. Who knew? Perhaps he reckoned that he would upon Lady Vera’s death, should he successfully join with her.
Edwar bent low over Vera’s hand, gushing some polite nonsense, but his eyes landed unerringly on Arie, the inky depths cold and calculating. Arie attempted to sidestep him when he made his move to approach her, but he shifted his trajectory and cornered her neatly next to the hearth. Arie bit back a curse, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip with frustration as she tried to not breath when his head dipped close to hers. He inhaled deeply with a lustful rumble that made her stomach pitch with disgust, and a clammy sweat broke out over her body as he edged closer. The smell of cigars, liquor, and the sweat of a man who didn’t bathe more than once a week overwhelmed her.
His eyes hooded as he looked down at her and his fingers lifted to toy with the end of one of the dark locks of her wig. “So, this is Elizabet’s daughter. Absolutely exquisite,” he murmured. He frowned and sifted his fingers through the hair of the wig.
“A wig, Vera?”
“Ah, yes, Lord Elite Edwar. You recall that I mentioned that she was born with an unfortunate coloring, but I spared no expense on this fine wig. I can have several others ready within the fortnight, so that she is ready for all occasions.”
“Ah, yes. I remember you mentioning that. That is unfortunate,” he said. Hope kindled in Arie’s breast that perhaps he’d reject her after all, but that spark died when he suddenly smiled. “It is of no matter. Unfortunate colorations can always be bred out. I have no doubt that our children will not be cursed with such a calamity. Wouldn’t you say that is correct, Master Physician?”
The grizzled doctor nodded his head in reluctant agreement. “Yes, my lord. The golds and reds are recessive. No doubt your children will inherit your fine dark coloration, given that Elizabet herself was an acclaimed beauty with her raven-wing hair.”
The confident smile grew on Edwar’s face, much to Arie’s discomfort. The idea of becoming breeding chattel to this man made her skin crawl. She wanted nothing more than to break for the entrance at that moment. The only thing that kept her in place was the chilling proximity of Edwar, and full knowledge that the guards would not permit her to pass them. To attempt to escape at that moment would only cause her injury and swift punishment. She needed to heed what Warol had taught her. When cornered she needed to wait for the most opportune moment to strike.
Despite wanting to ram the nearby fire poker into Edwar’s belly, Arie sucked in her lips and managed a tight smile. Edwar, interpreting it as compliance, picked up her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm as he led her back to the upholstered couch by the large velvet-draped windows. The physician followed behind, and reluctant expression on his face as he adjusted his ocular frames. Edwar eased her onto the couch, perching at her side with a blatant show of ownership as he kept hold of her hand.
