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“Gerent,” I say gently, “I very much appreciate your efforts to ensure I’m taken care of. I’m more than certain I’ll find something that’s to my liking.” I turn and smile at the servants, concealing the fact that I feel more than a little awkward right now. I wave them away. “Just leave everything here. I’ll take care of unpacking it all.”
I’m not used to such treatment; to being waited on hand and foot. In Ruen Castle, I did most things myself, and my daily attire was simple and comfortable.
I pray to the Goddess that all these fancy bags and boxes don’t contain the frilly monstrosities that Lady Dorava claims are all the rage in the capital.
How is an archduke’s wife supposed to dress? Will Corvan even care if I’m not attired in the latest fashions?
“Arrange everything as the lady requests,” Gerent orders. “Footwear by the chair. Clothing on the bed. Outerwear on the bench. Jewelry on the dressing table. Untie all ribbons and strings so that she can easily open everything.”
The young servants get to work; discreetly, efficiently. It’s as if they’re performing a choreographed dance. All I can do is stand and watch as bags, boxes, and and cases are arranged and sorted into orderly piles and rows.
Sweet Eresus, there’s alotof stuff here.
“One more thing, my lady.”
“Yes, Gerent?”
“The Archduke would like to formally extend to you an invitation to this evening’s event. There is to be a banquet and a fighting tourney in the great hall, commencing at sundown. His Highness would be delighted if you would grace us with your presence. The invitation is also extended to all members of your party from Ruen.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I try to imagine what such a scene would look like; Corvan himself—intense, enigmatic, crimson-eyed—presiding over a hall of festivities with my brothers and Garan in attendance.
The thought fills me with excitement and dread.
Not once has he objected to our betrothal, even if he claims he was unaware of the arrangement.
“I assume that the option to decline isn’t actually an option?” I smile sweetly at Gerent.
“I would advise against it, my lady.”
“How long have you worked for His Highness, Gerent?”
“Close on ten years.”
“So you know him very well, then.”
“I wouldn’t presume to say I know himwell.I’ve merely learned to anticipate his needs.”
“And would you consider him to be a fair man?”
Gerent’s expression hardens. “Lady Solisar, it isn’t at all my place to comment on matters between the nobility, but since you’re new here, and still unaccustomed to the ways of things, I will offer you an insight. Consider that all of us that live and work in Tyron Castle were given the choice of returning to Lukiria after the war. Tyron is the most inhospitable duchy in all of Rahava. The winters here are harsh, and we are far away from everything. Yet, most of us have chosen to stay.”
One of the young servants, a freckled, ginger-haired young man with sky-blue eyes, looks up as he carefully drapes a long, flat velvet bag on my bed. He clears his throat nervously. “My ma served under the previous lord. We barely saw her. They worked her to the bone. Didn’t even allow her to rest onSeinmas.And what did she get for it? A pittance. Barely enough to feed her five children. Now, I’m to be a father soon, my lady. With what Archduke Duthriss pays us, I’m able to afford comfortable lodgings and plenty of food and necessities for my wife and our babe-to-be. I don’t care what happened to him or what they say about him. Don’t care what he looks like. Those of us who know Tyron well would agree that life here isfarbetter since he took over.”
A wistful smile drifts across my lips. These servants are more than willing to defend their master. And from all accounts, Corvan seems to treat them fairly. Is this what the lord of a castle is supposed to be like? I can’t imagine that any of the servants in Ruen Castle would go to such lengths to defend my father. “Thank you, Gerent, and… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Daron, my lady.” The young man bows.
“Thank you, Daron. Andcongratulations. I wish you and your wife all the very best with your upcoming arrival.”
“Th-thank you.” A flush spreads across his cheeks.
My smile turns sincere. It’s the first time I’ve felt any real sense of goodwill since I arrived in this place. “As soon as you’ve finished arranging these packages, you may all go. I don’t expect you to wait on me hand and foot while I look at garments in boxes.” Is that what highborn ladies do? Have assistants fluffing around them all the time? I snort. I’m notthatuseless. “But Gerent, does His Highness expect Aderick to attend, too?”
“Only if he feels up to it. Archduke Duthriss is well aware that it hasn’t been long since his injury, but he also knows what lads his age are like, and bed-rest simply isn’t conducive to sanity in an otherwise healthy young man. The physician has cleared him to attend, but he’s entirely happy for you to provide guidance on the matter, as older sisters are entitled to do.”
“I thank him for his consideration. I’ll go pay him a visit when I’m done here. Gerent, I must confess that I’m not really accustomed to attending banquets in the presence of royalty. Would you be so kind as to offer me some guidance on how one might be expected to dress?” I tip my head elegantly, acting more genteel than I really am. Perhaps Lady Majurie’s incredibly boring deportment lessons have some value after all.
Gerent’s expression softens. A hint of amusement creeps into his steely grey eyes. “Of the items we’ve brought, I’m sure any combination would be acceptable. Wear whatever you like, Lady Solisar.”
