Duty: a novel of Rhynan Read Free

seen enough. If you don’t escort me, I shall
find him myself.”
    Antano eyed me warily before pointing toward the
lord’s hall.
    Contrary to my keeper’s obvious concerns, questions
not anger burned in my gut. Only Lord Irvaine could answer the most
pressing one of them all. What did he mean to do with me?
     
    *~*~*~*~*~*~*
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    The familiar dim shadows of the lord’s hall during
the daylight hours comforted me. All remained as it had been the
night before though it was now well past midday. Trestle tables
leaned against the stone walls, the noon meal forgotten in the
chaos. A smattering of pallets still littered the floor. The
daylight falling from the single smoke hole illuminated little
except the center of the room. On the edge of the light, Lord
Irvaine slumped in the steward’s chair. His fingers lost in his
shaggy hair, he groaned.
    “That is hardly enough to last us through the first
few months of winter.” The thin man to Irvaine’s left waved a sheet
of parchment for emphasis. Dressed in a simple tunic and leggings,
he stood just beyond the touch of the light. His other hand
clutched a parchment roll.
    “Brevand, I can count. I surpassed you at figuring
when we studied under Master Tarn. I know the provisions are
inadequate.”
    “I was just…”
    “I know. Sorry.” Irvaine rubbed brutally at his face.
“This whole confounded situation is a nightmare.”
    Antano cleared his throat.
    Brevand’s cold eyes fell on me from the shadows. An
icy tingle tensed my spine as his bored gaze assessed my lack of
attributes. Lord Irvaine didn’t bother to lift his head.
    “What news do you bring?”
    “Lady Solarius insisted on speaking with you.”
    “I told you, Antano, I…” Irvaine finally lifted his
face. He still hadn’t washed away the dirt. It ringed his eyes and
stained his cheeks. He rested his elbows on his knees. Beneath the
grime, he appeared haggard. He sighed. “Very well, my lady, what do
you wish to say?”
    “I have questions, my lord.”
    He closed his eyes, resting his head against his
fisted hands. “Leave us.”
    The men exchanged a glance of confusion.
    “But, my lord…” Brevand protested.
    “Leave us, Brevand. You have provisions to recount
and divide. Expect the worst and then return with the details.”
    Brevand’s thin features flinched in anger before
arranging into an expression of indifference. Unease tingled along
my forearms, but I brushed it away. I needed to focus on the man
with the answers.
    As Brevand and Antano retreated into the sunshine
outside, I studied the man who held all of our fates. His rough
hands and muscled limbs were not the markings of a noble. He moved
like a warrior, quick and purposeful.
    My cousin Orwin’s hands were lean and weak. Despite
his attempts to appear a strong man among men, his face remained
permanently flushed from excessive wine and his belly soft.
    “You have not been a noble long,” I observed.
    “That is not a question.”
    “Very well, what did you mean when you said I was
yours?”
    He lifted his head and regarded me intently as though
weighing my reaction before breaking bad news. Finally he let out a
sigh and thrust himself to his feet.
    “We were married by proxy before King Mendal a month
past in the presence of your cousin and the full gathering of
nobles. The land, the village of Wisenvale, and your hand were
given as gestures of loyalty by Lord Wisten, accepted by King
Mendal, and imparted to me as gestures of peace.”
    My head swam and the room tilted. I forced air into
my lungs and closed my eyes. This stranger was my husband.
    “I was given orders to marry you publicly before my
men and take possession of this land.”
    I was not alone in this. A fact I could not forget.
All the women I witnessed that morning, forced to make a choice,
were no better off than me. Nay, I preferred their lot. There was
no selection before me. He already owned me.
    “And the portioning out of the