The Oath of an Oxblood

17

I avoided Ember the next day. It turned out that avoiding an overlord was far easier than I thought—I just had to place myself next to Amarilla and Ember avoided her like wildfire. We sat in one of the sitting rooms that dotted the palace and Amarilla was passionately telling me about the newest stretchable ribbon for hair.

"Everything is so much more secure. But, they are only out in one color. Guess which one? White," she bemoaned. "White makes even the most elegant dress look tacky. The target market is the working class, which is understandable, but why can't I also enjoy a bright, colored stretchable ribbon..."

A new magestone glowed on her chest. Sage. Knowing that Beetle was a Sage forced me to rethink everything—every interaction with her. Her desperate ploys at escape and sharp tongue were all defense mechanisms aimed at bringing her back where she belonged—in fancy palaces talking about ribbons.

"Amarilla?" I asked, certainly cutting her off.

"Yes, Naomi?" she returned with a broad smile, thrilled to be using her real name, undoubtedly.

"How did you end up on that farm?"

Her face fell and scrunched up as if she had smelled something foul. In an instant, she wiped it clean and replaced it with her signature confident smirk. "Well, I was sold."

"Like Romina?"

"No. I wasn't kidnapped," she said. She leaned back on the couch and placed her slippered feet on the ottoman as if she was wholly comfortable with the topic. "My parents sold me."

A chill floated from my head to my ankles. "Your...parents?"

"Yes, curse their fugging souls," she muttered. "They were defecting to the south, and I told them I would never go. There is no way my fiancé would marry a southerner. My parents didn't argue with me and simply told me they would leave me here. They did. They left me in the hands of a trader. The next thing I knew, I was on my way to the farm with an old brown tunic that smelled of death and a ring in my nose."

Her body looked comfortable, but the pain in her face was apparent. "I'm sorry," I whispered, glancing down at my hands.

"Nothing to be sorry about," she said dismissively. "Once I find Eli, we will get married, albeit a few years too late. My parents will not be invited," she said with a smirk, examining her nails. "Eli is the son of one of the Three," she bragged.

"Your fiancé?" I asked. She nodded and sat up, eager to have my attention and thrilled to talk about her fiancé.

"Well, technically, he is a son, but he's a bastard," she said dismissively. "A wealthy, sexy bastard," she relished. "He's technically not a Trapedz, but his mom married Becker Sr." I wracked my brain for who that was.

"Becker Sr. He is the main leader of the Trapedz?"

Amarilla rolled her eyes. "No. Gloria is. Gloria is the grandmother, Becker Sr. is the son. He was never supposed to be the leader, so he bucked off their superstition like a horse does toa fat rider. His older brother died, which meant he was now the leader. The problem as that he had already married someone—an overlord, but a woman who already had a kid. Her name is Glenda. Glenda was a high profile doxie when she met Becker Sr. and was raising Eli by herself. They fell in love and got married."

I nodded. "Are there not other children?"

Amarilla nodded. "Eli is the oldest, but he is illegitimate. He technically has no Trapedz blood in him. Glenda and Becker Sr. have Becker Jr. and Mark. Becker is in his twenties and engaged to Ember's little sister—"

"Romina?" I asked, shocked. "She's only six!"

Amarilla laughed. "No, his other sister. Ukina, who we will be meeting tonight. She is engaged to Becker. Glenda and Becker Sr.'s other son, Mark, is only two. He would be a better fit for Romina than Becker Jr."

I rubbed my head, trying to figure this all out. "Gloria is the matriarch. Under her is Glenda and Becker Sr. They have Becker Jr. and Mark. Becker Jr. is engaged to Ukina?" Amarilla nodded. "Hopefully that is a good match for Ukina. If Becker's mother was more lenient and less...customary, they could be a good fit."

Amarilla laughed. "Oh, no. They whole Trapedz family is whack. Becker Sr. may have married an outsider, but once his brother died, he turned full force back to his family. They are dominated by their little customs and rituals. And all of them have strangely long fingers," she noted.

I smiled. "I do remember you telling me that."

"Well, they are strange, but they are powerful. Politics run in their veins."

"Is Eli like that?" I asked.

Amarilla smiled and shook her head. "No. He is...normal. As normal as any man could be who is willing to marry me," she joked. "He is...firm."

"Firm?" I asked. "That's hardly a romantic word."

She smirked. "Careful, missy. Firm is my favorite romantic word. Firm and hard. Stiff. Penetratingly stif—"

"Stop," I said, raising my hand, trying to wipe my mind from the last ten seconds. "Is he nice?"

She smiled. "Yes," she said happily. "He is very nice. He grew up with his uncle because his mom was busy running the farms and mines of Emory. He runs a lumber mill up north."

"I am glad he's nice," I said. And I meant it. Amarilla deserved someone who wouldn't beat her. In my life, finding a man who didn't abuse women was a rarity.

"If you would like, I could go on about him. Where did I leave off? Stiff?"

I laughed and waved at her to stop. "As much fun as hearing thinly-veiled synonyms for firm is, I will pass on that."

She smiled. "What about you?"

"No fiancé," I confessed. "Hard to find a loyal soul out in the carrot fields."

"No. How did you end up at the farm?"

My arms suddenly felt very cold. "Uh. I was sold," I said.

"Who sold you? Some nasty slaver or your evil uncle or...who?"

I licked my lips nervously. "Um. I did."