My father and I stood almost eye to eye, his face banked with fury. That was perhaps another reason why my presence offended him so: that I, a girl, should dare to surpass him in height — it certainly would not be long before he would have to look up to me and I knew how much he must despise that fact.

"I will not marry him!" I cried. My father's sharp nose seemed to quiver with violence as his brown eyes bulged in affront.

My face was doubtless ashen. Though I had objected impetuously, my voice, which started off rather boldly, soon faded into a horrified whisper. Father grabbed me painfully by my hair and shoved me, face first, to the floor. I clutched at his brutal hand where he tore at my scalp, desperately willing myself not to retch at my fathers feet lest I befoul his chausses and earn myself another beating.

"You forget yourself, girl!" The sibilance of Edwyn's voice was deadly calm and bellied the rage I knew was simmering below his frigid calm.

"How can I forget when you remind me every day that I'm of no consequence-"

The blow to my temple had been too quickly dealt for me to endeavor dodging it, and I found myself lying on the cold flagstones, clutching at the stale rushes, while I fought down the bile that was threatening emergence.

Where that boldness had come from, I know not and had no time to ponder it. All conscious thought was extinguished as I lapsed into the sweet black abyss. I was insensible only a moment for when I came back to myself, Edwyn still towered over my dormant form railing furiously about the marriage contract having already been signed; I groaned as I struggled to clear my thoughts.

My ears were yet ringing their agony — I had been momentarily stuck deaf — and I tried to shake the nausea from my benumbed head, but my vision was still somewhat blurred by the assault. I was quite convinced my sire, who's meaty fists were not unlike a bear's, had very nearly split my head in twain.

"...hence, will I have no more insolence from you! Not another saucy word, unless it is to say, 'aye, Father'!"

He waited, eyeing me with his gimlet glare, but I held my tongue, unwilling to entice him to further violence and uttered only two words to appease him.

"Aye, Father."

I looked to Elinor for support, but she shook her head pitifully, unwilling to attract Edwyn's virulent attention. I winced, verily disappointed in the woman, though why I should be, I knew not. Truly, I had expected neither support nor cosseting from her for she had done naught but observe vapidly from the sidelines each time Edwyn thought to strike me; which thankfully did not happen often.

"Godwin comes on the morrow to discuss the contract, before he journeys home. You will smile sweetly and gag that shrewish tongue...or you will taste my fist again!"

"Aye, Father."

"In sooth, I would that he take you with him when he leaves," he muttered, "but 'twould seem I must suffer your presence here a few years more."

My betrothed would not be so easily taken in by my counterfeit simpering. I had met him only briefly, but I felt keenly that he was a man not to be trifled with carelessly; if at all. I could now put a name to a face and I shuddered at the thought of being wed to a man well over thrice my length in age. However, there was nothing strange in that. 'Twas no irregularity that girls, many of whom were of an equally tender age as I, married men even older than my intended.

That aside, I was still confused by that strange sense of menace that had surrounded him like an evil fog. Our encounter had been abrupt and fleeting, yet he had engendered such trepidation in me that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the elemental need to outrun that which means to harm you. It made nary a jot of sense, but I had found him shuddersome in the extreme.

"Good. Now begone, you vexing little baggage!"

"Aye, Father."

"Wait!" He halted my progress toward the door and I eyed the exit enviably before I turned to face him, schooling my features into the vacant stare I knew him to prefer. But on the inside, I was not cowed.

Now what did the old goat want? I sighed. The only emotion Edwyn ever stirred in my breast was disgust and contempt — undeniably, not quite the sentiment a daughter should retain for her father.

"I would have you congratulate my lady." He smirked like a cur, but I obeyed diffidently, turning to face Elinor.

"Congratulations, madam." I made to leave and he snarled for me to come back.

"Well?! Care to know why felicitations might be in order?"

I watched as the vein in his forehead almost leapt from his florid temple. He was just about ready to knock me down again. "Aye, Father," said I with impartiality.

He eyed me with growing resentment; he was by now ostensibly fed up of hearing 'aye Father' and had gradually become suspicious that I was merely being impertinent — as opposed to respectful. Truth be known, I did wish to needle him. Mildred was always telling me that I had an unhealthy taste for trouble — she seemed to think that I welcomed it, and perhaps I did. Edwyn used to scare me when I was younger, but I had since learned that his loss of my respect had only fueled my antipathy; and not the fear he had sought to spawn.

"Because she is with child, you beef-witted, misbegotten barnacle!"

I blinked, coming back to myself, and angled a shocked gaze at Elinor who smiled nervously, perhaps even guiltily, while an odd mix of color spread across her jowls as she avoided my gaze. My answering smile was certainly dubious for I was sure I'd not have guessed she was breeding till the day the babe slid out from under her voluminous skirts. Elinor looked perpetually pregnant to me, if I was being honest.

It was certainly peculiar that my father was only now begetting heirs off of her. He had married her only a year after my mother's passing. Scoundrel. Although that was nothing to me now. He was sending me away; practically selling me off. I recalled yesterday's conversation, when I had heard Edwyn pompously crowing to Elinor as we progressed through Heathersea's colossal gates.



Tilly stumbled indolently along the bridge over Shitbrook as I sat, once again, atop Elinor's broad lap. 'Poor Tilly,' I thought as I shook my head and watched, distractedly, as a man halted his cart beside the bridge's stone balustrade and, as we passed him, began shoveling — what looked like — pig leavings into burbling water below. The smell had, however, not deterred my father from taking hearty swigs of the leather drinking flask he carried.

I was contemplating the awful stench of Shitbrook as Edwyn crowed about how much gold Godwin had promised him.

Godwin? My ears perked keenly.

But, to my annoyance, Edwyn ceased his conversation altogether — seemingly lost in thought. However, I did not much like the look of the resulting smile that curled peculiarly about his mouth for it ofttimes boded ill when my father smiled just so.

By the second and last day of our return to Buttongrass Hall, he resumed his boasting of the day before; only this time I paid attention.

"Some new horseflesh is certainly in order, my dear!" said he with a jovial bark of laughter, a dutiful Elinor nodding all the while, as I listened curiously; relieved that his objective, in coming here to Heathersea in the first place, had not been for naught. Buttongrass Hall would thrive a little longer...for the time being at least.

"What of Tilly and-" Elinor began.

"Hang Tilly!" The old russet nag gave a little tired nicker as though she understood that she was the subject of Edwyn's current blustering. "Have her ground into dog fodder for all I bloody care," he grumbled.

He continued to waffle on arrogantly about all the grand plans he harbored for this alleged income he would soon acquire: new farm equipment, replacing dilapidated wooden structures with sturdy stone walls and perhaps a new, silk gown for Elinor. His gloating and scheming did not let up until the moment he turned to me — quite arbitrarily.

"You shall be a countess some day, my girl," he informed me smugly. Confused, I asked him to expound on the statement which he did readily; but only once we arrived home...where he could throttle me properly, should I be of mind to test his patience.

Two days of fatiguing travel and my father's overbearing, drunken company had wearied me utterly, and I sighed happily as Buttongrass emerged into view. Edwyn had implied too much for me not to be a little worried at his supercilious smirking — there was some plot afoot, but I had yet to be included in its development.

Buttongrass Hall was a half-timbered, humble country manor and nothing like the grandiose, glazed-windowed mansions that I had seen at Heathersea. Our home was of a simple size and structure — rectangular in shape with mostly brick foundations and a wooden, tiled roof. We passed across the derelict, little bridge that spanned the shallow ditch surrounding the property, and I smiled as I took in the familiar house with its wood-framed windows and folding shutters. 'Twas a welcome sight indeed.

The only fortifications that Buttongrass boasted were her tall, unruly hedges and the outer, agricultural buildings — like the granary and the stables — that spanned around the main hall and solar. It was not impressive by any means, but 'twas my home and handsome enough to suite me. I was never happier to alight from Tilly's back and, as soon as my feet contacted the ground, I made to dash toward the oaken doors in hopes of seeking out Mildred's whereabouts.

"A moment, child!" Edwyn called. "I have decided, after all, to share my news tonight."

I stopped and turned to him expectantly, but he ignored me, for the nonce, as he directed the servants and called for supper to be served immediately, signaling that I should follow him. Once we were warming our hands by the hearth fires of our modest hall, Edwyn finally turned his head to study me queerly, his eyes already glazed by ale, while his lips twitched in amusement — the gesture evocatively ratlike. He had, I noted, yet to remove his thick, leather gauntlets, and I found this in contrast to his usual habit.

"You said I'd be a countess some day," I prompted him, still uneasy about the conversation of earlier.

"The year after next, the Earl of Drakkentörn will come to fetch you away to reside with him in the north," he began. "You will be married at Nørrdragor Castle, but only once you're older; and he assured me of that himself."

I had barely heard the latter part of his statement, never mind the 'reassurance' he offered, for I had blanched ten times over by the time he finished the proclamation, too shocked by half even to release the breath I held.

"W-who is the Earl of Drakkentörn?" I stammered, already knowing the answer. There was a slight note of hysteria in my tone, but my father happily informed me that I'd already met the man the day before we had departed Heathersea.

"Lord Drakkentörn is Godwin Greyback," said he, as if the name should mean aught to me; which it did. "Though he be but a blasted barbarian northerner, I shall overlook that lamentable fact seeing as he is, after all, an earl."

I did recall the unsettling face of the man I'd encountered outside the mansion the day before yesterday — in the affluent part of the city we'd passed by — and, consequently, whom I now understood to be my fiancé.

Edwyn lifted the tankard of beer that had been waiting for him on the mantle top and drank of it deeply before setting it away and wiping the froth from his lip. Thereat he scratched his oily beard in confusion, but the libation had evidently done naught to jog his memory for he began muttering. "Or was it his eldest son you were to marry?"

As besotted as Edwyn was, I did not doubt my predicament for he looked rather lucid, notwithstanding the entire day's potation. In sooth, Edwyn's faculties were more often than not steeped in cheap ale or beer; not the watered-down kind either.

"Bah! The minutiae matter very little to me. You shall eventually be a countess either way, and I shall be rich!" Another hearty sip was disposed of in celebration. "And fortunate it is too," he thought to mention, "that you should be passing by that way as he was leaving his home..." He seemed in raptures at the notion. "What luck!"

He clapped his hand greedily — smiling at Elinor who now sat nibbling at a honeyed cake — and that was when I had blurted my refusal; and therewith earned myself that powerful crack across my head.



Voicing that rebuttal had lead me to where I stood now, fingering my swollen cheek as I congratulated my stepmother on her delicate situation. It had all gone south the second I vetoed the marriage and in the end it was all for naught. Godwin would arrive tomorrow and I was, well and truly, as good as paid for.

For my part, there was no doubt that Edwyn — even at my tender age I understood him well — would sooner I was gone and out of his custody; thereby ensuring the unlikeliness of a refund. It was not a haphazard supposition that I now entertained because I knew him to harbor these sentiments for he was a greedy man and, since he'd already figuratively spent all his ostensible riches, I was satisfied, in my deductions at least. What need had he now for an insolent daughter when his wife would soon provide him with a son.

Now that he had delivered all his news, I was forthwith dismissed. I did not stay to sup in the hall, my appetite lost for the most part, and withdrew directly to my small chamber — the same one that would soon be empty of all my belongings, and in their stead would boast the new babe's effects and habiliments.

§



I sucked in a painful breath as Mildred applied a parsley poultice against my battered cheek and tsked angrily at my father's handiwork.

"Beast!" she muttered with disgust, her red and grey curls peeping through her wimple as she shook her head furiously.

I felt my eyes well up with hot tears and, despite my best efforts, they poured forth in earnest, silent rills that disappeared into the tepid suds of my bathwater. Once I was drying beside the fire, Mildred approached me with a welcome brew, her grey eyes softening as I sniffled quietly.

"Here, sweeting, drink this. It'll help with the swelling." She placed a steamy cup of Lavender tea in my clammy hands. According to Mildred, tea repaired every ailment; be it of the flesh or the heart.

She ran her gentle fingers through my hair, releasing the braid, then began brushing out the damp, dark mass. When I had finished the last of my tea, I was much relaxed so she took the cup from me and helped me into my night shift. When at last I was abed she sat down beside me, staring at the side of my face.

"Are you going to tell me how you earned this?" She gingerly placed a cool hand to my swollen cheek and temple, which drew a flinch from me, before she removed her touch, another tsking sound escaping her lips.

"I am to marry a stranger. An earl from the north." Or his son. Either way, both prospects were distasteful!

"Ah! And naturally you protested, eh?" Her reply was somewhat chiding, as if I should know better than to gainsay Edwyn. I said naught and finally she sighed impatiently. "You are wise beyond your tender years..." This was an appellation I bore proudly, so I began to smile until she commenced; at which point it withered back into a scowl. "But your willfulness is a character flaw that may get you into more trouble than you can possibly countenance. Be careful of that, my love," she pleaded as she lifted my hands to her mouth and planted a noisy, maternal kiss on each of my knuckles.

She reached a calloused hand to smooth out the dark frown befouling my forehead and chuckled. "Well, did you think you would live here forever?" At my stricken look she sighed and cupped my cheeks carefully so as not to touch the bruises already well established on the right side of my face. "Do you not wish to be rid of this place? To have a family of your own? Be glad of that, if for no other reason."

"But he could be vile! In fact, I'm almost certain that he is!" Then I thought of my stepmother and how cowed she always appeared after one of Edwyn's conjugal visits. "And what of how sour Elinor is every morning after Father has been at her. I do not wish to walk like a stuck pig or wince when I sit as she does after the vulgar deed has been executed."

"Vulgar...!" she spluttered. "What rot! Your outrageous imagination ofttimes befuddles the mind, Aria." Mildred shook her head at me wearily. "A marriage, whether to the earl or another stranger, was always inevitable, but..." She seemed puzzled by something.

"What is it Milli?"

"I only wonder at your being betrothed to an earl we have never met, nor ever chanced to hear of. It does seem rather sudden and inconceivable. He had not known of your existence prior to your meeting him outside his home in Heathersea?" she clarified and I shook my head no. "And now he wishes to have you to wife? Hmm," she tapped her chin, "it does seem odd."

I nodded my head dumbly. My thoughts had been much the same — altogether muddled by the whole affair. Mildred finally snapped out of the grave reflections that had visibly bestrewn her features, like a pall, and pasted a cheerful smile over her furrowed aspect instead.

"It is of no matter! He has had the privilege to meet you and one day you shall be a countess! Have I not always said there was something special about you?"

I answered her chirpy question with a dreary smile of my own. Mildred blew the candles out and was suddenly, as a consequence, beset by a round of vicious, hacking coughs that left her momentarily gasping.

"God's nails! These old lungs will be the death of me!"

I giggled at her cussing, by now quite accustomed to her coarse speech. As Mildred left, I lay back against my pillows, my eyes shuttered against the pitch black room, but I was far too wakeful and thus merely staring sightlessly at the back of my eyelids. It would not do! The same question circled incessantly through my mind and forbade my slumber.

"Why me?" I asked softly, my voice becoming quickly swallowed up by the night. As was the case with all of my wishes or queries, the darkness offered no reply...





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