Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to live there,” my father noted.
Shockingly, my mother’s voice was rising. “But my daughter will!”
“By the goddess,” I breathed.
The messenger from the king.
I was to marry King Mars of Firenze.
Balls and begorrah!
How had this come about?
“By the goddess,” I repeated on a whisper.
“Yes, she will,” my father declared.
Oh, by the goddess.
I was to marry King Mars of Firenze.
“He will not take to her,” my mother snapped, and my heart lurched.
My father had very little use for me.
This was because my mother could not give him what he wanted, a son, or even a second child who was more to his liking than me. He had tried, in his ways (which were not enjoyable), to make me the daughter he wished me to be, the Countess of the Arbor he felt fit the title.
But I preferred my own company, truth be told. Or if I had it, the company of my mother, who was dear to me and in her way showed I was the same to her. Or Estrilda, my Tril, who had been my lady’s maid for years now.
I liked people.
I was heartened by companionship.
I just did not enjoy groups and definitely not crowds. It was fun to watch, for a spell, but after that, it became boring and sometimes could feel oppressive.
I therefore preferred reading to attending large dinner parties. I did not enjoy dancing a’tall. I further did not enjoy making banal discourse with suitors (or, really, anyone).
This, indeed, was perhaps my least favorite thing in the world. And I’d long since learned if I attempted something not banal, exposing I had read many books, traveled across Wodell, Airen, even had been amongst The Enchantments of the Nadirii once on a state visit with my cousin, Prince True. Or if I shared about the many times I had been in the presence or at the courtly affairs of our very own King Wilmer, and I had watched and listened well, learning much, my dinner or dance companions were shocked.
I had become known as The Bluestocking.
When I was not known as The Mouse.
I did not find this insulting (though, the second wasn’t my favorite).
My father found it infuriating.
He wanted a bright, lively (but empty-headed) daughter who made a spectacular match to build the power of his title, which would carry forward to my child through me.
Instead, he got me. A quiet, watchful mouse whose head was far from empty.
But now it seemed even my mother did not think I could turn the eye of a king.
By the goddess, I wasn’t that difficult to look upon, was I?
I thought my ebony hair was rather lovely. Very long, it wasn’t stick straight, it had nice curls. It also had a rather impressive gleam.
And I’d always liked my eyes. Even my father said I had extraordinary eyes (albeit he said this grudgingly). I’d never seen my eyes in another’s face, not ever.
Silver.
Not a blue that could be construed as gray.
Silver.
Polished.
Shining.
Dare I say my own self…luminous.
I knew the servants (and others) whispered some male ancestor of mine had been able to charm a mermaid (or, perhaps, more shockingly, my mother a mermale), for there was no other explanation for my eyes.
(I didn’t mind these whispers, by the by. If I had mermaid blood, that would explain a lot.)
Not to mention my skin wasn’t bad a’tall. Nary a blemish. Pale to porcelain, if I was out in the elements, or had made some effort, what I thought was a becoming rose would tint my cheeks.
I wasn’t unsightly and the abundance of suitors I still had regardless of the fact I demonstrated I had a brain twixt my ears would demonstrate this as truth.
At least to my thinking.
“It’s my understanding he has no choice,” my father replied.
“The Firenz women are known for their shocking beauty. They are tall. Lush. He will not be best pleased with the beauty our Silence can give him, even if it is most remarkable in a variety of ways.”
I settled as that kindness, coming from my mother, was not surprising and part of it not being surprising was that it was lovely.
My mother was often kind like that (and gentle and thoughtful), with me and everybody.
That was, she was like that when my father wasn’t around.
“I prayed to the gods for years to give her at least another inch, though I would have preferred five,” my father murmured. “At the best of times, you can barely see the girl.”
Sadly, he had not noticed that this was due to an effort I made, not simply because I was petite.
But I had seen some Firenz on occasion, men, often with their women, who had come through Wodell to hunt or acquire wool or attend our merchants.
They were all uncommonly tall, like their brother nation of Airen were.
Indeed, although I had only seen him from afar—and even though True was exceptionally tall, his build was lean—therefore Prince Cassius, with his height and bulk, seemed like a veritable giant.