Tonight, I would have to say yes to Ishida's proposal. The marriage ceremony would soon follow.
A dutiful wife, mother to several kids . . . I could not picture myself in that fantasy. But it was my inevitable fate.
Leaning off the door, I knelt by the bed and reached under the obscuring bedskirt. I lifted the loose floorboard and dragged it aside to reveal the hidden compartment beneath the floor.
Retrieving the bundle of clothing tucked inside, I rose and dumped its contents onto the bed.
Old robes, a belt, and bracers lay before me. They had belonged to my brother. Father had allowed me to keep some of Akemi's things after his death, to remember him.
Perhaps, five years ago, Father would have given the Aenir diplomat the men he requested. These days, Father was paranoid, obsessed with defending our city.
Five years ago, the Solhearts’ Emperor departed his holy city for the first time in decades. He’d come here for some reason. And assassins had followed him.
Shadows appeared in the flames and struck the holy Emperor. They’d killed a few guards and escaped, leaving no evidence of their identity behind. And in the five years since, nobody had found anything more.
But I knew something. Something nobody would heed, for it came from the lips of a uselessgirl.
A blazing sword of radiant light had killed Akemi as he defended me. Only a Solheart could have created it—one of the Emperor’s own people.
The assassins were still out there—the traitorous Solhearts who’d killed their holy Emperor. No one had found them because no one was looking for them.
Whoever they had been, they had never struck again.
Father had erred in letting me keep these robes. Over the years, I'd slowly tailored my brother's old uniform to fit me. They hadn't required much altering; I was already tall for a woman, and well-muscled from the years spent chasing Akemi around.
Holding up the dark blue Shatterblade robes, I traced their silver stitches, remembering the day Akemi had presented them to me. My brother had been so proud to become a Shatterblade, the finest swordsmen our country had to offer.
How many times had I clutched these robes and contemplated running away?
Tonight, I'd tell myself, before tucking them back under my bed.
A knock sounded at the door. Kicking the bag of clothes under the bedskirt, I hurried to answer it.
Mother stood outside, idly toying with the wispy strands brushing her forehead. We had matching hair—locks so blue they were nearly black.
"Listen," she said softly. "I remember being your age. And . . . what it is you might not know."
"About the proposal?" I asked.
"Yes." Mother hushed her voice and glanced over her shoulder. "Most men will expect you to consummate the engagement. Your father did."
Her words struck my head and fell to the floor. Furrowing my brow, I glanced down, trying to let them sink in.
Ishida wanted to consummate the marriage . . . tonight?
I dipped my head, dark blue locks spilling loose from their bun to fall around my eyes. In their darkness, I imagined laying with Ishida.
His servants always looked meek, frightened. They bowed their heads and flinched when he raised his hand. Once, he'dstolen a kiss, though I'd tried to rip away. Ishida did not care about anyone's comfort but his own.
The thought of bedding him made me want to throw up.
Mother sighed. "I don't understand why you're being so stubborn. You’re nineteen—well past the age where you should be wed. And Ishida is a perfectly fine man."
That was probably true. I hated him because I didn't want him.
And because he treated me like I already belonged to him.
"Just do as he says," Mother said softly. "And don't complain. It will be over before you realize." She glanced over me. "You aren't dressed yet. Do you need help?"
