Uncertainty

Father and Mother were silent as they arrived back home, Lord Ullion's mage leaving again with a quick, shallow bow. Her parents had excused themselves as soon as the clock struck midnight and had bustled Adelia away, avoiding any further unwanted gossip and conversations.

King Harold hadn't demand they stay to celebrate the impromptu engagement further and Lord Ullion cared little about them personally. Lord Emmertal too had left at midnight, casting a dark look Adelia’s way as he had called for his mage.

Lord Morrow had still been at the table then and he hadn't done more than incline his head in parting with one of his mild, closed-lipped smiles.

"Go to your room," Father told her curtly. "We shall speak in the morning."

It honestly suited her just fine, she was utterly wrung out and her mind was a mess at the moment. Adelia trudged her way up to her rooms and absentmindedly took off her jewelry. She set everything down in its proper place and unlaced the gown to slip into nightclothes instead.

Lying down in her bed, she stared at the ceiling, thoughts jumbled and garbled. For once, she did not think of her dear, dead horse or the blacksmith who had been banished, her father making sure no one else would want to employ him again. She didn't even think about her tasks for the next day, nor was she turning her current clockwork creation over in her mind.

All she could think about was the ball. Tonight had not gone how she had expected, quite the opposite in fact. Adelia’s hands slowly curled to fists atop her bed sheets.

She hated being so helpless, so powerless. She wasn’t in control of much of anything in her life and with Tirn abandoning her, so she'd have to marry an intimidating man she knew little about instead, she had lost any future autonomy she might have gained by marrying him. Who knew what Lord Morrow would expect from her, what kind of treatment she could expect.

In moments like these she wished she had been born a boy.

Adelia fell asleep fitfully, jerking awake in the early hours of the morning after a nightmare had left her with murky, formless fear and dread. She knew any more sleep was a lost cause and sat up, rubbing her hands over her face.

She would be wed sometime in autumn. That left a fortnight of spring and all of summer to prepare as best she could. The most she knew about the Wilds was derived from rumors; that the lands were lawless and rough, and only the strong and powerful were ever respected. That it was infested with monsters.

She’d have to find out the customs her future husband's home, it was expected of her to fit in once married and to not become a burden to him, after all. She was, however, quite glad she didn’t have to marry Lord Emmertal, even if she had no idea what to expect from Lord Morrow.

"Do not shame us," Mother said later over breakfast that Adelia was required to attend for once. Usually, her parents didn’t particularly care where or when she ate, as long as she showed up for dinner every evening.

"I have a friend who has been to the Wilds before," Father added, looking as though the conversation itself was slowly poisoning him, his mouth pinched into a flat line and his jaw tense. "I’ll ask him if he knows what is required of a bride of the Wilds, we won’t embarrass ourselves by you acting like an uneducated fool."

While this marriage brought the advantage of keeping King Harold happy, Father would not have chosen this for her. This union would not offer enough in his eyes, she knew that. He had managed to speak with Lord Morrow a little last night and had, delicately, asked about what dowry was to be expected. What this marriage would bring to the table for his family.

Lord Morrow had looked mightily amused, but not in a cheerful way. He had looked downright cruel as he had smiled mildly at her father and told him that marrying an esteemed warlord was honor and reward enough and he would gladly accept Adelia's dowry along with her hand.

Which was a polite way of saying her father would get nothing from him and Lord Morrow would take everything he was entitled to instead. So money couldn't be gained, but neither could be political power.

Lord Morrow might be a warlord of the Wilds, but that didn't give Father any advantages, nor would a marriage allow her father to have any say when it came to Lord Morrow's lands and trade agreements. He couldn't even demand that the warlord support him in his endeavors in exchange for her hand.

Her father wouldn't even get to wriggle any additional clauses into the marriage contract, for King Harold had fully backed his friend last night. Their king had only laughed when Lord Morrow had made it clear that he would not part with or promise anything upon marrying her.

Her father would lose both his daughter and her dowry, and gain an unwanted son-in-law, who was living in a different country. One which was wildly different from their kingdom.

It was, from an outside perspective, a very dissatisfying marriage deal for their house. Adelia was just glad she wasn't forced to marry Lord Emmertal, even if she dreaded what Lord Morrow was like behind closed doors. Though, even out in the open the warlord's reputation was ruthless and bloody.

"Of course, I won't dishonor us" she answered after swallowing down the last bite of her meal, her stomach churning faintly now.

It wasn't just her unease about her future that made it hard to eat, there was also a hard knot of bitter, betrayed rage in her gut. Not only had her father taken almost everything she held dear from her, he would have also married her to her own end. A bloody, terrible, awful death was all that awaited her at Lord Emmertal's hands.

There was a bile-bitter taste on her tongue and her stomach burned whenever she looked at him and even when she looked at her mother. It felt like a scream was stuck in her throat.

"See that you don’t," Father grumbled and kept eating with a sour expression, standing up the moment he was done. "I’ll go and write my friend."

He left with brisk steps and Adelia found herself glancing at Mother, who still took delicate bites of her meal. She had once thought that her mother was the perfect embodiment of everything a noble lady ought to be, always poised, elegant and polite, and smart enough to calm down Father in a rage.

Nowadays she thought that her mother was a lot more bitter and unhappy and far less in control than she had thought as a child. If Father decided something her mother didn’t agree with, he didn’t give her a choice in the matter and she remained quiet, always dutiful at his side. Even if it meant selling out her own child.

Adelia didn’t think Father would ever hit either of them, but he had proven that he would find other ways to punish them. The last time Adelia could remember Mother openly speaking out against him in their own home, he had sold her beloved cat.

She had been a child back then and had seen her mother weep just once, sobs muffled by her palms pressed over her mouth, her body scrunched into a corner of her rooms. Adelia had tried to hug her and her mother had quickly composed herself again, whispering that she was done being emotional now. Ever since that day, her mother had been nothing but the perfect wife.

Her mother had never owned another pet either and the two times she had been gifted another animal, she had swiftly handed them over to the castle staff. The little puppy had become a valued hound for hunts and the gray kitten had become a miser in the granary.

Adelia wondered if her mother hated her father for it as much as Adelia hated her father for selling her horse to the butcher. At least her cat hadn't been killed, even if the loss must have been terrible.

"Is Lord Morrow going to be cruel?" Adelia found herself asking and for a brief, bleak moment she wondered if she should leave all her beloved things at home, for fear of him breaking and destroying everything if she made him angry.

Mother glanced up and, in a rare fit of true honesty, she quietly answered, "The trick is to figure out how to avoid his temper." She pressed her lips together. "Unless he takes joy in your suffering."

Adelia stared at her hands and found herself hoping that Lord Morrow would not be the kind of monster Lord Emmertal was.

Mother surprised her by adding, so softly she barely heard her, "If you wish for me to hold on to anything of yours until you know his true self better, I will do so." Her mother looked at her, with a grim, bitter sadness in her eyes that Adelia hadn’t expected to see. "I cannot offer you any protection, Adelia, neither from him nor from...from Lord Emmertal. Forgive me."

For a moment, Adelia fought to swallow bitter, helpless tears that wanted to rise. Her mother had taught her well that weeping changed nothing, especially not when those who could hear her, did not care about her pain. That they might even use her pain against her.

"Did you ever regret marrying Father?" she asked in a low murmur and Mother offered a humorless smile and cast a brief glance at the servants standing over by the wall, unable to overhear them as long as they spoke as softly as they had been.

"There are worse men," Mother whispered back and delicately dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, rising from her seat and waving at the servants to clear away the dishes. "You are a smart girl, Adelia, you will be alright."

Would she?

Adelia asked Father's steward to bring her any relevant books from the library, since she wasn't allowed inside. The man returned with two books and those were about their known world in general, not exclusively the Wilds, or the customs of warlords.

She read through what was given to her anyway and while she learned a little about the overall topography of the Wilds, there wasn’t anything more detailed to be found.

The author called the citizens of the Wilds barbaric and uncultured, small-minded individuals that lived in dirt hovels and worshipped hedonistic gods. He wrote nothing else though, not even what rituals surrounded said hedonistic gods.

Adelia truly hoped Father’s friend could find more information, because this was pitiful and made her more uneasy than it helped her prepare for anything.

When she returned to her rooms, Adelia was surprised to find the raven waiting for her. It hadn’t shown up this the morning, but now that she saw what it had carried, she wasn’t surprised. If anything, it was a miracle that the bird had been able to fly at all.

The raven had brought her a solid gold hair pin, the end decorated with a bee inlaid with tiny diamonds and topaz stones and Adelia had genuinely, absolutely no idea where the monster had gotten such an item.

The simpler items she had been able to explain away as the monster making them or even maybe buying them from a trader if it had a human disguise, but this? Had it stolen the pin? Had it perhaps found a carriage with dead nobles and this was the hair pin of a deceased woman?

Either way, she wasn’t going to accept it, just like she hadn’t accepted any of the other gifts.

"I hope you are alright after carrying that heavy thing," Adelia greeted the raven, who had waited all prim and proper for her, not looking worse for wear.

She didn’t quite know how much exactly a raven could carry safely, but she knew it wasn’t much. The pin was far too heavy for it, which either meant the raven had suffered while dragging it to her or the bird was imbued with more magic than she had thought.

The raven preened and hopped to nudge the pin so it shone in the sunlight, warbling encouragingly.

"Your friend owes me nothing," she said gently. "There is no need for this gift."

The raven slightly fluffed its wings and nudged the pin towards her. It hadn’t been insistent before and for a brief instant Adelia was tempted to take the pin. To see if there truly was a trick, a bargain to be struck, but she resisted. There were no good bargains to be made with magical creatures.

"I'm sorry to refuse after you carried something so heavy," Adelia said kindly and apologetically. "Though, I thank you for your efforts."

Strangely enough, the bird seemed hesitant to leave, tipping its head to stare at her and it shifted in place for a long moment, before reluctantly picking up the pin with its beak. Considering how easily it did that and how swiftly it took off again, it really was far stronger than a regular raven.

"Safe travels," she called after the bird and it flew a quick loop, making her smile. She watched it disappear, pin glinting in the sun. Leaving the balcony door open to let in the warm spring breeze, Adelia locked her bedroom door and sat down at her desk.

She pulled out all the sketches she had made, of metal and gears and clockwork creations, and stared at them for a long moment. She had built each and every one of those toys, some working as intended, but most needed a lot of work and adjusting in the beginning.

She loved figuring out how to make things move, learning from each mistake gladly and enthusiastically. There were few things as wonderful as the glowing, joyful pride she felt once she succeeded. It made her feel like she could be more than she was, like there was more to her than people saw. Like she could get anything done so long as she was willing to work on it.

The last thing she had made had been a little metal horse, after the loss of her beloved gelding. She hadn't known how else to swallow her grief, so she had done her best to work through it. The horse had pranced around rather smoothly and beautifully once wound up. Looking at it had been painful, though, so she had kept it hidden from prying eyes as best she could.

She carefully gathered her sketches, old and new and hesitated. The smartest thing was to leave them and the toys behind, ideally with Julie, who would hide everything safely. Or to burn the papers and destroy the toys, but Adelia hated that idea. Just the thought of her things broken made her chest ache.

However, the idea of parting with the sketches and inventions was just as hard, anxiety filling her at the thought of Julie getting into trouble if those things were ever found with her.

Adelia put her sketches away again after a moment, deciding that she would think about it more later. She had some time after all, before she had to leave her home to go live in the Wilds.

It felt strange, to go about her daily duties with the knowledge that she would be gone come autumn, with no idea if she’d ever get to see her home again. In the evening, she penned letters to her friends, wondering to herself if they could hide her sketches and toys instead.

Katrina's parents were far kinder than her own and Izabel's parents gave her more freedom than others, they would be safer options than Julie when it came to safekeeping Adelia's secrets. And yet...she couldn't bring herself to ask them.

Deep down she didn't want to part with the one thing that had held her together in her darkest hours, that had brought her joy and hope. It made her feel alive to create and the very thought of leaving that behind made her feel like she was going to die a little bit inside.

As the days passed, Adelia answered the letters of her friends, their penmanship a bit rushed like they had written as quickly as possible. She tried to reassure them and calm their worries and listened to their hopes that this marriage might be a good thing after all.

At least she wasn't going to marry Lord Emmertal. Adelia did her best to appear optimistic in her letters, even if anxiousness kept gnawing at her belly. It was bad enough that she was worried, she wished to spare her friends the same emotional unrest she was currently going through.

It was rather unsettling to not know what to expect after being promised to Tirn for so long and after having worked out a plan with him. Adelia had never been worried about giving Tirn her hand, not once in all those years.

Tirn's wedding to Damira took place within a month of the ball and Adelia ended up attending, along with her parents, to keep face. Mostly, she looked forward to seeing Izabel and Katrina again, who didn't hesitate to join her, surrounding her with their warmth and distracting chatter until the ceremony began.

Tirn was decked out in all the finery of his station, in blue and silver, the colors of his house and he wore a thin silver band around his head, inlaid with three, thumbnail-sized sapphires.

Damira looked beautiful, dressed in a white gown embroidered with shimmering, white thread to make it appear as though delicate white flowers were blooming up her bodice and the hem of her skirts.

She spoke her vows clearly and with a sweet, warm smile. Her neck and wrists glittered with jewelry and the smallest of tiaras was perched upon her head to avoid making herself look like an actual princess.

It was a pretty, lavish occasion full of merriment and well wishes and subtle, backhanded compliments. Adelia kept a smile fixed on her face the entire time and she tried to sound genuine enough when she both congratulated the couple and reassured other nobles that she was just fine with the broken-off engagement. That she had a new husband now after all.

Of course, no one believed her despite her best efforts, their smiles pitying and their gazes trailing after her, as though they just waited for her mask to slip for a moment. They downright hungered for it, for a moment they could gossip and gasp about, likely even within earshot so she'd feel embarrassed by her lack of decorum.

It was exhausting and while Katrina and Izabel did their best to distract others and run interference, eyes were on her the entire time. Tirn tried to pull her aside to speak with her more privately, but she refused him politely and ensured she remained around her parents or friends whenever he approached afterwards.

She was still so very hurt about his thoughtlessness and how easily he had been able to discard their deal. She had thought all the years they had spent with each other, covering for each other, helping each other, had meant something.

She was glad to head home once the wedding was over, the happy couple retreating to their honeymoon suite to the cheers and hollers of the gathered nobility.

Adelia did not look forward to this part of her own wedding, she never had, but she dreaded it even more now that the predictability of Tirn and his easy-going and thoughtless, though not malicious, character had gotten replaced by Lord Morrow and his dark reputation.

She fell asleep the second her head hit her pillow and she dreamed of dark castles and a dead forest she ran through. Branches gripped her like gnarled hands to try to make her trip and fall. Something loomed behind her that she didn't dare look at, just waiting for her to make a single mistake, ready to swoop down and devour her whole. When she woke she felt exhausted still, despite having slept through the night.

The raven visited her every other day still, bringing beautiful things now, things that no large, winged monster should have been able to buy. Had it robbed someone? She hoped it wouldn't get in trouble just because it felt indebted to her. Adelia refused glittering rings and golden jewelry and even a beautiful circlet inset with gemstones.

The raven never grew frustrated, despite having to lug such heavy things around fruitlessly, but it did seem to grow more and more puzzled and after she refused the circlet, it even appeared somewhat lost.

"I have no need for these things," she told the bird gently. "Your friend doesn’t have to do this, for there is no debt to be repaid. I hope you’re not exhausting yourself with this. Tell me, however, are you and your friend safe?"

The bird cawed reassuringly and bobbed its head up and down in a nod before it took off again with the circlet, carrying it without any trouble.

Father’s friend, meanwhile, sent a messenger boy on horseback, who safely delivered all the gathered research and books a few days after Tirn's wedding.

"Educate yourself," Father demanded after he had called her into his office to hand her the large, heavy bag. "Return this to me once you’re done."

"Of course," she answered, bowing her head in agreement and Father waved at her to leave, still looking sour and angry about everything. He had been trying to have his voice heard during the recent negotiations for the marriage contract, organized by King Harold, but it had been fruitless, much as Adelia had expected.

Lord Morrow certainly had no reason to agree to any demands or to haggle over anything, not with King Harold backing him so fully in this.

Adelia wasted no time reading the first book once she was back in her rooms, near desperate to learn more about the Wilds and to feel less unprepared and wrong footed.

Very quickly, however, she came to rue her decision. The Wilds were a harsh, tough place, even more so than she had heard, with slaughtered animals being offered to imagined deities and a variety of frankly strange and slightly unsettling customs, depending on which region she would live in.

The author of the rather lengthy book especially expressed disgust over being served raw eel in a broth made of cold, raw egg and freshly harvested algae when he had first arrived.

Adelia hoped that wasn’t true, or if it was, that she could stomach it if such things ended up in front of her. She didn’t even know what part of the Wilds Lord Morrow called home and which of the customs she'd have to get used to. She’d have to ask Father to find that out for her.

The books told her that the forests and coast of the Wilds were infested with monsters, which she had already known, and while there wasn't more information on what kind of monsters existed there, she found out other things.

The people were hardy enough to defend themselves and, strangely enough, welcomed no monster hunters that were not their own. Rogue mages had been seen decimating entire stretches of land for morbid spell experiments and many a abandoned village or lone keep was said to be haunted by vengeful ghosts and curses.

The seasons were harsher than where she lived now and winters were said to be long and cold and dark, the mountains jagged and often covered in mist.

Finally, at last, she found some information about Lord Morrow, though it was hardly something that settled her nerves. Lord Morrow’s history carved a bloody path through the Wilds, leaving the previous warlord and his supporters dead and decapitated and people swearing fealty to him.

Lord Morrow was said to be a cold, merciless man who crushed any and all opposition with ease and many a dark rumor surrounded him. That he ate the hearts of newborns, that he was a mortal man possessed by a vengeful spirit, that people disappeared wherever he traveled and plants withered beneath his steps.

Adelia had to admit that most of the rumors she read sounded rather preposterous, and had been clearly told by someone with either a lot of imagination or a love for the dramatics.

There was, however, always a kernel of truth in every story, though she didn’t know what part of these tall tales to believe. It only left her with the certainty that Lord Morrow was a very dangerous man who had held his own easily in these rough lands.

How to be a good wife, however, none of the texts told her and she spent three days pouring over every bit she had been given.

Of course not all information of the Wilds had been written down, which didn't surprise her even if she wished it to be different. Besides, the books had been composed by men, who hadn’t ever considered the thought that some noble lady might ever be unfortunate enough to be married off to a warlord.

At least she had a better grasp of what to expect of the land and its people, which centered her a little bit. She returned the books to Father in his study and was surprised when he motioned for her to wait instead of expecting her to leave.

"A letter arrived for you," he said, holding it out to her. Considering the broken wax seal, he had read it already and she bit back the upset that rose within her, the bitter burning that surrounded her heart and tasted of resentment and quiet pain, mixed with smoldering hatred. "From Lord Morrow’s steward. Be sure to answer him."

She accepted the letter and now she was swiftly ushered out of Father’s study. Returning to her rooms, she hesitantly began to read, only to find the letter to be very polite and direct.

Steward Lambrecht informed her, well ahead of time thankfully so she could get everything prepare accordingly, of the weather conditions of her new home. He told her to pack warm clothes most of all, since even summer would be a little cooler than she was used to and the winters frighteningly icy and dark.

He furthermore requested she write him should she require anything or if she had any questions. Lastly, he noted that his lord looked forward to welcoming her and if she desired any luxuries or accommodations, they would see to acquiring them before her arrival.

Adelia was grateful that Steward Lambrecht had taken the time to inform her of the sort of clothing to bring and she mentally set aside some coin to invest in some warmer dresses and appropriate footwear along with a shawl or two.

Since she was sure Father would read her responding letter to Steward Lambrecht as well before sending it out, she chose her words with great care. She did not ask what sort of wifely behavior Lord Morrow expected from her or what her duties would be, even if she wanted to. Father would hate for her to reveal any ignorance and weakness and would only force her to rewrite the letter.

Lastly she wrote that she was curious about her new home and looked forward to seeing everything it had to offer. A bit of a lie, but that was alright, half of these letters were made of polite lies anyway. She signed and waited until the ink had dried, before she brought the letter to Father.

If he was going to openly read her correspondence, he might as well go through the trouble of properly folding it and sealing it with his own wax.

He looked a little irritated when she handed the letter over and wasted no time telling her to leave again, already beginning to read. Adelia hated that she wasn't afforded any privacy, but there was nothing she could do.

As she left, she wondered if Lord Morrow was going to read through her correspondence as well, or if he’d simply forbid it altogether.

Waiting for time to pass until autumn arrived was not a feeling she appreciated, especially with the quiet dread and worried apprehension that accompanied most passing days.

She tried to distract herself by preparing for her new home and sending as many letters and gifts to her friends as she could. No matter what would happen to her once she was married, she wanted to press as much of her love into their hands as she could.

Summer surrounded everything with heat and bright colors and time began to slip through her fingers faster and faster. Adelia felt nervous when she realized less than a fortnight was left before autumn began.

"Is there a set date set for our wedding?" she asked at dinner and Father nodded.

"We received a final letter detailing everything today," he said and she bit down on her tongue when she realized she hadn’t even been allowed to be part of the wedding planning process. "Lord Morrow will wed you on Harvest Day at King Harold’s palace. A grand affair, or so I’m told. You best have everything packed and ready in time."

"I see." She fiddled with her spoon and stopped quickly when Mother cast her a chastising glance. "Has absolutely everything been decided already?"

"You may tell your mother if you desire any particular flowers to be displayed, but aside from that, King Harold said he’ll shoulder any costs, and he’ll be in contact with Lord Morrow about further details."

Adelia wasn’t sure what to think. With Tirn she had already detailed their wedding a while ago. They had spoken about it during one particularly boring formal dinner party at his estate. They had grabbed a bottle of wine and had snuck out to the gardens the moment the adults had told them to go and head to bed early.

Tirn had said he always had to sneeze when he smelled roses and that he liked the color yellow quite a bit. He had asked if they could use sunflowers for their wedding, since he found them to be rather cheerful.

Adelia had liked the idea as well, to have something bright and happy surrounding her while speaking her vows. They had laughed together when they had joked about asking the musicians to play a jig when she was led to the altar and her dancing her way towards him. How appalled their parents and the other nobles would be.

That felt like a lifetime ago now. It made her feel foolish, thinking back on those shared conversations and realizing all those dreams she had harbored and nurtured had been nothing but fantasies too flimsy to hold up to reality.

Tirn's wedding to Damira had looked quite different to their planned vision as well. There had been blue cornflowers and yellow dahlias decorating everything and Damira had downright floated towards the altar, accompanied by gentle, sweet music.

"King Harold will ensure that our every need is met," Mother spoke up. "Your wedding will be every girls dream and the envy of all the nobility, rivaled only by the weddings of his own children."

Because every girl apparently dreamed of making her supposedly happiest day into a competition. Adelia offered a soft hum and said nothing more.

She wrote Izabel and Katrina after dinner, telling them everything and secretly wondering if her wedding would be the last time she’d get to see them. She carefully drew zinnias and pansies at the bottom of each letter, hoping to convey without words that she loved them, that she was grateful for their long years of friendship and unwavering kindness and loyalty.

She did not dare voice any of her thoughts or worries, for Father had taken to reading all her letters again, not just the one she had sent Steward Lambrecht. He would not have her speak badly about anyone, just in case it could end up smearing his good name.

The raven showed up the next morning, carrying a brooch inlaid with a ruby the size of half her palm. She was truly baffled where the monster might have found such a beautiful, expensive thing.

"Neither of you give up easily, do you," she mused with a soft sigh. "Please return this to your friend, I want nothing from either of you, there is no debt to be repaid."

For the first time, the raven looked a little frustrated and a touch more insistent as it offered the brooch again. When she refused again, it accepted her answer at last with a little clack of its beak.

"I won’t be here for too much longer," she told the raven after it eyed the brooch, clearly deciding how to pick it up again. "I’m to be married, you see, and once autumn is here in full I will be gone. Please don’t burden yourself by dragging things here when I won’t return."

The raven was silent for a long moment, then cawed reassuringly and fluffed its feathers.

"You’re sweet," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You and your friend take care, alright? No more run-ins with hunters."

The bird bobbed a nod and shuffled over to pick up the brooch once more. Adelia was content to lean against the balustrade, the heat of the sun like a weightless blanket around her and she looked towards the town she could see past the high walls of Father’s castle.

"I hope he’s kind," she found herself whispering. The raven paused with the brooch firmly in its beak and tilted its head to look at her. "My future husband. I hope he’s kind, at least a little."

The raven warbled a noise around the jewelry that was strangely sweet and it eased her solemn mood a little.

"Don’t pay attention to my maudlin mumbling. Get home safely." She gave the bird a smile and it took off with the brooch held in its grasp.

She really hoped the bird wasn’t going to come by again once she was gone and she certainly hoped it wouldn’t try to find her new home. It would be a ridiculously long journey and a very dangerous one to boot, if it managed to find her at all.

Adelia was determined to enjoy what bit of time she had left before the wedding and to ignore the worry that haunted her steps. She spent time with the servants, teaching them as much as she could behind her parents' backs before she was gone.

She kept writing to her friends, though she had to cut down on the gifts when her father remarked that, perhaps, if she wanted to squander his money by giving it away like this, she didn't deserve a maid like Julie.

What had happened to the blacksmith still haunted her and she would never wish to be the cause for Julie's life changing for worse. Her maid deserved better than to be turned out without a recommendation, a clear sign that she wasn't good at her job, just because of Adelia and her father.

Especially when she and the knight's squire were in the middle courting each other. Her maid was rather smitten with the lad, talking excitedly about going on walks with him and being read poetry.

Instead of spending her money on gifts, Adelia got a few more extra purchases for her life in very different lands. Her father didn't protest those expenses after all and she felt a little vindictively satisfied when she refused to haggle about market prices and instead paid a bit more than strictly necessary.

In her rooms, she found solace in sketching more and more ideas for metal clockwork inventions, allowing herself to get as fantastical and unrealistic as she wanted to be. Who knew when she'd get the chance to do this again, after all.

She didn't dare build anything, not with how easily her father's temper sparked these days. If she made any weird noises that someone in the hallway overheard, if her hands showed any kind of wear and tear, she'd lose the last thing that she loved with all her heart that she had left.

Summer ended far too soon and autumn brought a cool breeze, the nights slowly growing longer and longer and everyone was busy harvesting and preparing for winter.

This year had been kind to their people and Adelia was happy for them and the plentiful Harvest Day they could celebrate, even as she grew ever more anxious with each day that brought her wedding day closer.

When the time came to pack she found herself slipping her sketches into her travel trunks, hiding them as best she could, though she let Julie take the few toys she had made away to give them to any child in town that might want them. The only thing she couldn't bear to part with was the horse and she hid that best of all.

Adelia knew she ought to burn the sketches, or at the very least give them to her friends, but she couldn't quite bear to leave them behind. To get rid of everything that had made her happy, had filled her with passion and had allowed her to dream like nothing else before it.

Her ideas made her feel like her life could be more, like this world could be more, if only it was given a chance.

The day of her wedding arrived and Mother helped her get ready the moment she got up at dawn. They wouldn't have to travel to the capital, for a mage would bring them to King Harold’s palace, saving them weeks of being on the road. This meant her mother spent all morning and afternoon making sure Adelia looked as lovely as humanly possible.

Adelia donned her mother’s wedding dress, which had once been her grandmother’s. The seamstress had made some adjustments and it fit perfectly now. It was a beautiful dress, with flowering, white skirts and intricate lacework that must have been created by numerous hands for many months.

For just a moment, despite everything, Adelia could see what the common folk saw when a noble married and what every fairy tale spoke of: a prettily dressed, rich girl about to marry happily.

"As fair as any princess could dream to be," Julie said encouragingly after Adelia had donned the last of her jewelry.

"Listen well to him," Mother murmured and it took Adelia a moment to realize that her mother was trying her best to prepare her, at least a little, for what was to come.

In all honesty, the only reason Adelia knew what to expect from her wedding night had been because of Tirn. He had once, half drunk on mead he had snagged during one of his visits, told her when she had asked him.

She hoped Lord Morrow would be gentle, just a little. Or, at least, during their first coupling.

"Think about your heirs and your duty," Mother added. "Then it passes quicker."

Adelia watched her fuss over the folds of her dress and wondered if Mother had been scared before her wedding as well. If she had wished the event could miraculously disappear and the very idea vanish from everyone’s minds.

She knew better than to ask, Mother would only say what was expected of her while hiding what she truly thought, especially in the company of the maids that surrounded them to lend a helping hand.

"Any other advice?" she found herself asking instead and Mother pursed her lips.

"Don’t fight," she said at last, voice low to make it hard for the others to hear her. "In case he has…preferences. I heard it is easier to endure than to try and change his mind."

Adelia wished she hadn’t asked anything at all, her stomach churning worse now. A knock made Mother call out to enter and Father’s chamberlain opened the door.

"The king’s mage has arrived," he said with a perfect, elegant bow, voice clear and polite. "It is time."