Veriel

Chapter 2

The exceedingly large fresco upon the wall depicted a gargantuan snake slurping up a hapless man, and Rikke, as most people would be, was bewildered that this was the chosen décor for a guest room at Tullus' Villa.

She stared at the grisly scene with a wrinkled nose. "He doesn't want to marry me, and I don't want to marry him, and I don't understand what's so hard to understand about that."

Like most daughters of distinguished clan chiefs, Rikke had always been acutely aware that her hand in marriage existed in a world outside of true love, but that didn't mean she was happy about this. A mere two weeks had passed since the unfortunate revelation that her days as an unmarried woman were coming to an end at the ripe age of fifteen.

In the wake of a severe famine, her people had sailed out to raid a foreign land, and had bumped into the Aquilan soldiers living in Prydain. Their combat forces were quite well-matched, it turned out, so instead of going through a war, they had started to talk. 

The Northmen had asked for things. The Aquilans had refused. So, the Northmen had sailed up the coast and met with the remaining Prydish, who were a bit more amenable to giving things.

The Northmen had then used that as leverage and said that if the Aquilans didn't give them things, they had no qualms about joining with the fearsome Prydish to drive the empire off the island once and for all. 

They were a threat to be taken seriously. The Northmen may not have had food or money or fine manners, but they did have fast boats, sharp weapons, and an extraordinary amount of masculine aggression.

General Tullus Auranius did not want to become the target of that aggression, and so he had found himself in one of his least favorite places: a corner. Aquilans were not ones for compromise or giving people things. But in the end, he decided it was better to lose a bit of coin than to lose the land entirely and face the judgment of the emperor and senate. 

So, he had entertained talks with Chief Valdr and mentioned that he had a son who, despite being the withered age of sixteen, didn't yet have a wife.

Rikke was on a boat at the next opportunity.

Of course, there had been several nights on the long journey where she indulged in a sweet dream of kind smiles and soft kisses and a love so deep it shook her bones—because she was still allowed to dream, thank you very much.

Titus Auranius, she had learned within seconds of meeting him, was the furthest thing from a sweet dream.

By her estimation, he was the most unpleasant boy in the world, clearly excelling in his training to become a pompous donkey with an unsettling left eyebrow.

As soon as the clan's horses and wagons had come to a stop, Rikke had been pulled through the magnificent door, through the hallways, into a cold, white room to meet her fate. At which point Titus had looked her over and verbally noted each physical attribute he didn't like.

Red. She saw red. And fire and lightning and smoke. It had always been likely that they wouldn't get on well at first, but she hadn't thought he would be so diligently devoted to being clump of poo.

She'd known, however, that she could not kill him.

So, she had returned the favor, and the boy had gasped in shock, and General Tullus Auranius had clapped obliviously and declared how perfect they were for one another.

And now she sat in her chambers, where she was supposed to freshen up for the official announcement of her impending doom. Her current preferred activity, however, was to whine.

Rikke's stepmother offered one sympathetic cluck and two pats upon the head. "I'm sorry, dear, but this match is about an alliance. Our political duties come before our wants."