Chapter 2

Jaws dropped in disbelief, William stared at his father's disciplined handwriting. He looked up, hoping his father would dismiss what was in the book, but all hope extinguished when he saw the grim lines around his father's mouth. He looked at the numbers again, but they did not change. After a long pause, he said faintly, "I knew Henry gambled, but I had no idea that he gambled away so much of the family fortune."

"Nor had I," his father said. "Not until he died."

"But you must have suspected..." William protested.

His father shook his head. "When I found out about his gambling years ago, I gave him a more stringent allowance, hoping to curb his habit, but when we were going through his papers a month ago, we found that he had obtained the money from some other means."

"How is that possible? He had not worked a day in his life," William said incredulously.

Lord Ravenshire sighed. He ran a hand through his gray hair. "He sold a large portion of our heirloom, and borrowed the rest. Walter had informed me of missing items from the manor a few months before Henry's death. We all thought it was one of the servants at first, but the items were never found. Not in Ravenshire anyway."

William was silent. The full extent of his brother's treacherous ways began to dawn on him. Flipping through the account, he asked his father, "How much do we currently owe?"

"Six hundred thirty-two thousand gold pieces and seven pence after paying off the fall harvest labor."

William leaned back into his chair weakly. "For the love of the gods..." As a general in the king's army, his yearly earning of a hundred thousand gold pieces was enough to allow him a moderately comfortable life. He simply could not imagine such a large sum. He understood his family was wealthier than most, but he could not fathom how Henry accumulated such debt.

Scooping up the loose sheets on his desk, Lord Ravenshire seemed to have guessed his thoughts, for he said, "Henry did not rack up that debt overnight, you know. It had been years and years of gambling, as well as the ridiculous interest charged by the moneylenders, those dirty bastards."

Scrubbing a hand down his face, William asked, "How in the world are we to pay?"

"Your marriage," his father said. With a wave of his hand, he cut off William's sputtering. "I have written to Lord Aubren of Lyonsyle immediately after your arrival, requesting his daughter's presence here a week from now. Lady Lucia of Lyonsyle, as you might remember, was Henry's betrothed."

William pushed away from the desk, pacing in front of the fireplace angrily like a trapped panther. The muscles of his jaws twitched as he leaned against the mantle, staring into the flames.

"Lord Aubren had been a dear friend of mine for many years," Lord Ravenshire continued calmly. "It has always been our plan to unit the two families through marriage. It will, of course, strengthen our political hold on Pelicana, and benefit both of our economy by increasing trade. It doesn't hurt either that Lady Lucia has an immense dowry as well."

Adjusting his reading glasses, Lord Ravenshire peered at his son over their rims. "On the order of two hundred thousand gold pieces, in fact. Not to mention the various jewels and items, and a yearly allowance."

Sneering, William spat, "What, is the chit monstrously deformed?"

His father shrugged. "You will see for yourself in a week." His voice turned cold. "If you destroy our family's one chance of redemption..."

"I rather sell off all our land than marry some pale-faced, spineless twit," William growled. "There is nothing you can use to threaten me now, is there?"

Whipping around, he silently slid out of the room.

As the wheels of the carriage caught on some hole in the road yet again, Lucia caught herself before she swore out-loud. She rubbed her hip, where she had bumped into the wood of her seat a moment ago. There's bound to be a bruise there tomorrow, she thought. The carriage was stifling in the late-summer heat, and Lucia clamped down her anxiety of enclosed spaces. Her father had not allow her to ride her mare, fearing that it would seem improper. Lucia had to agree, for she had been feeling weary lately.

Her nurse and chaperone Maria sat across from her, her face positively green from the shaking tumultuous ride. Maria kept a handkerchief held against her mouth the entire time, gulping desperately against the rebelling contents of her stomach. Taking pity on her, Lucia handed the older woman some smelling salts. Maria was there to chaperone her, a fact that Lucia felt terribly guilty about. Patting the other woman's hand gently, Lucia looked out the window at the passing trees.

Though Ravenshire Manor was only a few days' journey from her home, she had not visited it often. Her father and brother spent most of the year in Pelicana court with Lord Ravenshire and Henry. There was no reason for Lucia to go there, except during autumn when all councilmen went home for the harvest. She vaguely remembered that as a child she used to play with either Henry or William, but she did not remember much of what they did or what they looked like. It must have been a long time ago.

When she was still young enough to dream, she had imagined her wedding, down to the smallest detail. She would wear a gown of white silk, beaded with seed pearls and draped in ribbons. White roses tinted with the palest pink would crown her head, holding a veil trimmed with lace over her flushing face. She would have a bouquet in hand, made of the rarest white orchids from the king's own garden. For one day, her hair would behave, staying obediently in their curls around her. Soft silk slippers would grace her feet as she walked down the aisle to the altar of the temple.

The man she loved would stand by the priest, dressed in a white tunic embroidered in gold. His face would light up at the sight of her, adoration and love brimming in his eyes. He would take her hand, repeat the marriage incantation after the priest, and slip the ring, attached to the white marriage sash, onto her finger. She would do the same, but this time leaving her hand in his. At the priest's final announcement, he would sweep her off her feet, giving her a kiss before carrying her off into the sunset.

But she had buried the dream years ago, ever since her first governess. Lucia was told that children of the nobility were responsible for making marriages that will benefit their family. Adrian had been so enraged by the governess' words that he swore to protect Lucia from an unwanted marriage. His sister would marry for love, he vowed vehemently. Though his promise assuaged her of fears at the time, Lucia grew up to accept her fate. Unless her father died soon, which she sincerely hoped he wouldn't, Adrian had no power against their father's decisions, especially concerning Lucia's marriage.

Then why did the prospect of marrying this stranger, this William of Ravenshire, instill such fear in her?

Maria had fallen asleep. Lucia stared resolutely out of the window. It helped her keep the sickness down to a manageable degree. They had been traveling for hours, and Lucia hoped they would stop soon for luncheon. A cold cider was exactly what she needed.

Perhaps she ought to be upset that she would never know how it felt to be touched intimately by a man she loved. Some aristocratic women, she knew, met secretly with other men when their husbands were out, but she wasn't sure she could ever navigate such a complicated situation. She was a simple girl. It was likely that William would grow tired of her soon after their marriage, and find distraction elsewhere after she produced an heir. Lucia was hoping for that. She wasn't sure she could bear the touch of another man ever again.

In the heat of the carriage, she wrapped her arms around her midriff, pressing on the coldness that threatened to overtake her body. For the first time in a long time, she prayed to the gods to have mercy on her.

The seafaring city of Cielo, Kingsbury, bustled at the arrival of three major ships from Ravenshire. Wool merchants gathered like a flock of geese, stretching their necks for a glimpse of the latest shipment, their open mouths eager to snatch up the new products. Sailors, bared to the waist, loaded crates after crates into cargo nets. Custom inspectors examined each crate, carefully noting down the contents and the amount. Their apprentices ducked under the deck, searching the ship for illegal passengers and hidden smuggled goods. The captain of the ship each conducted the whole unloading affair from his perch on the captain's deck. The king's soldiers stood guard around the ship, nudging the merchants and other stragglers to a safe distance away from the ships. After the cargo was unloaded, it would be transported to the warehouse, where the auctioning would begin.

When the last of the custom inspectors were satisfied and finally left the ship, a wooden plank shifted in the floor of the captain's quarters. At first, only a small gap formed, barely visible. After making sure the quarters were deserted, the man extracted himself from below the floor. He was disheveled and faint, for he had been down there for many days. Tying a knapsack around his torso, he crept across the room toward the window. Swinging the small pane of glass open, he squeezed through the opening. Kicking off from the bow of the ship, he launched himself into a silent dive into the water.

Adrian was bored. The morning counsel was especially dull, but the gentleman presenting the subject insisted on repeating his claims continuously, as if repeating the argument was the same as strengthening it. Yawning behind his hand, he looked at the great clock that hung above the room. There must be something wrong with it, for the hands hadn't moved one bit since the last time he checked. He peered at the king and the prince. They both seemed to be holding up remarkably well. They did have a lifetime of experience at appearing attentive, after all. Adrian felt a small glee when he caught the Third Counselor Queensfield sneering, barely conceal his disdain of the councilman on the floor. He rarely condoned stupidity.