Duty: a novel of Rhynan (3 page)

I boldly studied his face again. A mask of
indifference kept him guessing, I hoped.

“What is holding you back from decision?” he
asked.

“What I do not know about you,” I answered. “I lack
even the questionable reliability of second or third-hand
witnesses.”

“I promise to never strike you in anger, if that is
your fear. The rest, I am afraid, you are going to have to discover
later.”

I could ask for more, but nothing at this point would
completely reassure me. Closing my eyes and releasing a prayer to
Kurios, I took a step of faith. “Yes.”

I didn’t really have many expectations for his
response, but he defied the few I considered. He kissed me.

Rough, calloused hands held my head still as he took
my mouth with his. There was no other way to describe it. Warm,
commanding, yet gentle, and brief, he stepped away before I could
respond. My heart thundered in my ears.

“Thank you. I will send Antano to guide you through
the preparations for tonight.”

Then he was gone.

I stared at my cousin’s chair, once my father’s chair
and now Lord Irvaine’s, and wondered what manner of man I agreed to
marry. Nay, I was already his. What I just handed to him was my
consent. Something he apparently valued very highly.

“My lady?” Antano waited just inside the outer door.
“I am to take you to choose a marriage gift to give Lord Irvaine
during the ceremony.”

I nodded numbly.
Kurios, have mercy,
I prayed.
Only then did I realize I still carried Lord Irvaine’s helmet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Torches flared in the breeze, transforming the
familiar village square into a sea of shifting light and shadows.
Music—lute, tambourine, flute, and pulsing drum—stirred the spirit.
My feet moved in time to the beat without volition. The mixture of
familiar and foreign faces among the revelers set my instincts on
edge. I never knew if the next person I met would leer or smile. It
didn’t help that I no longer dressed as one of them.

A full skirt swished elegantly about my ankles with
each step. The diaphanous emerald silk whispered against itself. I
missed the reassuring warmth and weight of my rough linen and wool.
Finer clothing, thinner shoes, and birth set me apart from them. I
walked alone. I no longer belonged to the dancing crowd around me.
I was his.

My stomach twisted. I swallowed with caution,
suddenly thankful I had eaten nothing since early morn.

“Brielle!”

Loren plowed into me, wrapping her arms about my
shoulders, pulling me down four inches to her level.

“I am so sorry, Brielle. Quaren just told me. You
weren’t even given a choice.” She drew back to study my face.

“She has forgotten to tell you I also said Lord
Irvaine will make a good husband.” Loren’s new husband stepped out
of the crowd pulsing about us. His mild eyes smiled slightly at me
in the flickering light.

“Are you a wife to evaluate such things?” Loren asked
him sharply. “Besides, Brielle is hardly a typical woman. She
rides, brawls, and works like a man. She doesn’t need a
husband.”

“Unlike you?” Quaren tilted his head slightly and
watched Loren’s features with amusement. A smile tugged at his
mouth, lightening his features.

“Exactly.” Loren turned to mouth words missed. I
didn’t catch the sounds in the din around us. The gleam in her eyes
and heightened flush to her cheek gave me hope she would be happy
with her new life.

“Have you met his daughter yet?”

“No. She will arrive in a few days with the supply
wagons.” She grabbed my shoulders. “Bri, are you going to be
alright? I can help you run if you want. I know where they are
keeping the horses. It is only a few miles to the river. Once
across it and into the hills, you would be free.”

“Nay, Loren, I have given my word.”

Her eyes grew round. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Did
he touch you?er H They say you were alone with him for an hour,
more than enough time to…”

I stopped her with a sharp shake of my head. Her
husband stood close enough to overhear if the volume of the
merrymaking slackened unexpectedly.

“This is my choice, Loren. I have given my word.”

“But, Brielle, will you be happy?”

“I have as much a chance at happiness as you, Loren.”
I smiled at her and jutted my chin toward her spouse. “You seem
quite settled already.”

Loren blushed to the tips of her ears. “He has been
very sweet so far.”

“You chose well. Now wish me happy and go with him.
It is almost time.”

The music stopped. Around us, voices hushed. The
crowd parted, making a path for someone. Lord Irvaine strode toward
me. A gold edged tunic of emerald emblazoned with the figure of a
hart covered his chest. His dark hair, now dry, curled to his head.
He had finally washed his face. He stopped at the edge of the open
circle that hastily formed around Loren and myself.

“My lord.” Quaren bowed his head.

Loren curtsied.

I remained standing, meeting his inky-eyed scrutiny.
“My lord.”

He lifted his right hand, extending it palm up toward
me. “It is time. Are you ready?”

I felt Loren’s gaze on my face, but I didn’t lower my
own to meet it.
Kurios, give me strength,
I prayed. Stepping
forward, I laid my hand in his.

Together we walked toward the dais outlined in the
glow of ten flaring torches. My hands trembled when I realized we
would be standing on it before the village and his men. The
officiate, the man with a twisted back from before, stood at the
dais edge dressed in a heavily embroidered gray robe. The few hairs
on his head danced in the breeze.

Irvaine squeezed my fingers. “I would prefer
something more intimate, but the king decreed a public speaking of
vows. He intends there should be no mistaking the validity of our
marriage.”

“A bedding ceremony then.” I faltered at the
thought.

His fingers tightened around mine. “Leave that to me.
I will not see you humiliated.”

I opened my mouth to ask how he intended to
accomplish it, but our arrival at the dais interrupted. We climbed
the single step together and faced each other before the company.
The old man wrapped our joined hands with a length of white silk.
Beneath the fabric, Irvaine’s fingers cradled mine, warm and
strong.

“Speak your vows after me. Make sure they are loud
enough for all to hear.” The old man faced Lord Irvaine first.

“I am Tomas Nirren Dyrease, Earl of Irvaine.”
Irvaine’s rich voice caught me off guard. I frowned up at him in
surprise. The officiate had not spoken yet. “I do willingly speak
these vows to Brielle Solarius.” His eyes locked with mine. An
emotion I couldn’t name grabbed my attention. “I pledge my sword to
your protection, my hands to your comfort, my shoulders to your
provision, my children to your body, my heart to your heart.” With
each phrase, he squeezed my fingers. My stomach tightened. His
gaze, black in the torchlight, never wavered from my face. “I take
you as my wife.” A shiver shot through me. He meant every word.

“Repeat after me.” The officiate led me through my
vows.

“I am Brielle Solarius, daughter of Tyranen Solarius,
late Lord of Wisten. I do willingly speak these vows to Tomas
Nirren Dyrease.” His name came surprisingly easy to my tongue. “I
pledge my hands to your comfort, my body to your children, my
loyalty to your cause, my means into your control.”

My gaze lost focus. I was handing my future to this
man. Cold gripped my core as I realized the full implications of my
words. I could not speak against him or deny him anything he
desired of me. Everything I possessed belonged to him. My hands
shook as my thoughts filled with visions of our children. He now
held their lives in his hands as well.

“Brielle?” Irvaine’s suddenly painful grip on my
hands brought my gaze up to meet his. Worry bracketed his eyes in
wrinkles. His dark brows lowered, but concern, not anger shone in
his eyes. “Breathe slowly and focus. One sentence more.”

“I take you as my husband,” the officiate
prompted.

I only whispered the words, but it was enough for the
officiate. “Bring forth the gifts!” He waved dramatically.

My middle ached and darkness edged my vision. I
blinked. Perhaps I should have eaten something.

“Brielle?” Irvaine’s voice came from far away.

My knees gave out. Someone caught me as I fell, but
oblivion took over before I figured out whose arms held me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I can’t believe you forgot to feed her!”

The man’s voice resonated in my head, jerking me to
awareness but leaving my sense of balance behind. I took five
steadying breaths before opening my eyes. By then, Irvaine’s voice
grew soft with restrained anger.

“I gave her into your care, Antano, because I trusted
you. I thought that you of all my men would know how to treat a
lady. Now I see that I was wrong.”

Silence stretched as the tension in the room
thickened the air. I blinked up at an intricately woven tapestry,
my mother’s work, suspended over the bed by the four thick posts.
It was my parents’ bed. Heavy curtains fell to the floor drawn back
by thick loops of the same fabric. When closed, they shut out the
rest of the room. The mattress beneath me gave more than it had the
last time I slept there half a decade past. I turned my head
cautiously to the left.

The gold of the firelight cast the two men in high
relief. Irvaine’s leaner form loomed over Antano’s bent head.

“It wasn’t his fault. I wouldn’t have been able to
eat even if food was offered.”

Both men straightened at my voice.

Irvaine glared at Antano. “He still stands
responsible for not offering it.” He dismissed Antano with a flick
of his hand. “See to it we are not disturbed.”

Antano turned toward the door just as it opened. A
young man entered and bowed, not lifting his eyes from the floor
the whole time. “My lord, the officiate wishes to speak to
you.”

“What about? His duties are finished. I have already
ordered he be supplied for his return journey.”

“It is about the…bedding, my lord.”

I bit back my own protest when I glimpsed Irvaine’s
face. Tight control hid his emotion, but his eyes glinted brightly
in the light. An impatient twitch flicked the fingers on his right
hand. “Have him come. Antano stay.” He crossed to the bedside as
the boy left. Pinning me with his gaze he asked, “Can you trust
me?”

I began to ease myself up onto my elbows, but he
stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Answer the question?”

I grimaced up at him. “To a point.”

“That will be enough. No matter what I do or say,
don’t protest. Can you do that?”

I eyed him warily. “I will try.”

“Fair enough.”

The bedroom door opened and the officiate entered.
The edges of his gray robe were brown from the dirt outside.
Drunken laughter wafted in through the open doorway behind him.

“The witnesses are prepared, my lord.” The officiate
bowed.

“I already told you earlier, Ryanir. There will be no
bedding ceremony tonight.”

“But the king…”

Irvaine cut him off. “She is in my bed.” He gestured
to where I lay. I tried to look submissive, an easy feat lying on
my back on a massive bed.

“I intend she not leave it ‘til the morrow.
Considering the events that brought her there, I doubt she will
have the strength to resist. I gave my word as a loyal subject of
the king. I shall attempt to produce heirs. It was part of my vows.
Besides, I have to consider my lady’s delicate nature.”

Antano coughed before regaining control of himself.
Irvaine’s attention never wavered from Ryanir’s face. The older man
shrunk under the noble’s stare.

“I refuse to invite a crowd of drunken men into my
bedchamber. I will do my duty to her and my king, have no
fear.”

“But, my lord, the king’s instructions were very
clear. You are to…”

“King Mendal intends to validate the marriage so Lord
Wisten cannot make claim on the land through her.” Irvaine gestured
toward the scattered parchment littering the top of the table next
to the fireplace. I recognized the heavy trestle table from the
kitchen. “I have been in communication with him too.”

Irvaine’s featured tightened. “A crowd of drunken men
witnessing me climbing into the same bed with her while you recite
words over us hardly validates our marriage more. Many of those men
will not remember the events of this night come morning. No,
Ryanir, there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Turning from him, Irvaine unpinned the brooch at his
shoulder and threw his cloak so it draped the chair before the
fire. The metal clasp skittered into the shadows beyond. He pulled
the emerald and gold surcoat over his head and dropped it at his
feet. His undertunic of green looked almost black in the
shadows.

“Go, Ryanir.”

Ignoring the officiate’s mumbled response, Irvaine
strode toward the bed. I choked on the protest swelling in my
throat. I instinctively slid my hand to where I usually carried my
eating knife and found nothing.

Irvaine’s gaze moved from my hand to my face. His
expression a blank, only the rich depths of his eyes reassured me
that he played a part. “Antano, show him out.”

After a brief scuffle, the door thumped closed behind
our unwelcome guest and his escort.

Sagging forward, Irvaine dropped his palms to the
mattress and let out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry about that.” He
lifted his head to look at me.

I scrambled awkwardly from the bed, careful to exit
on the side opposite from him.

He crossed to the table and picked up a log book. A
tap on the door stayed his hand before he opened it.