Veriel

Chapter 4

This dress made Rikke feel like a polar bear shoved into a beer stein. 

In other words, it was laced far too tightly, why oh why, dear gods in the stars free her from this shiny cloth jail immediately please and thank you.

The general's wife was blissfully unaware of Rikke's lungs being squish squashed. "Isn't it just so beautiful? The violet dye is quite rare. All of our guests will see your new esteemed status!"

Annoyance. If anything, marrying a general's son was a drop in station, but Rikke didn't want to snap at her. Mrs. General Tullus Auranius had shown herself to be well-meaning and gentle in her airheadedness. At a morning hour so early it that was really nighttime in a fake beard, the lady had appeared to help her new daughter-in-law bathe, dress, and style herself for the day.

And Rikke's stepmother Freya was also present and watching like a hawk, and Rikke's stomach was still bouncing after her watery escapade last night anyway, and she didn't want to betray any clues about what had happened. So she opted to implode in silence.

Stepmother Freya stood up with a cup. "And a few sips of wine to make those cheeks nice and rosy."

When she tipped the cup to Rikke's lips, Rikke learned that the older woman's definition of a sip was equivalent to a small pond. The spiced wine flowed faster than she could swallow, and her cheeks popped out in the way of a confused chipmunk. 

"Oh! And we can't forget this," said the general's wife as she laid a heavy necklace of emeralds on top of Rikke's chest.

"How very lovely. What's it for?" Freya asked.  

"To bolster her fertility."

All of the wine in Rikke's mouth made a sudden, swift evacuation. 

The mothers began to talk about pregnancy and childbirth and all manner of horrific things, and Rikke made a solemn vow to anger all fertility gods long before any Tituslings could take form.

The women left for breakfast, and despite Rikke's best efforts, her assigned handmaidens managed to shove her out of the room too. Titus stood in the hall, his forehead bonking repeatedly against the wall. Her first thought was that she hoped he fell unconscious and the meal was cancelled so she could return to bed. Her second thought was that she actually liked the Aquilan robe and jewelry they'd dressed him in. 

Someone had clearly tried to tame his mop of dark curls, but the mop had rebelled and kept on mopping in an almost stylish way. He might have looked quite fashionable if he wasn't Titus and wasn't trying to dash his brains out at the sight of her.

When he saw her, he stopped bonking and scowled.

She raised one eyebrow. "No, please, continue."

"My mother said we have to arrive together and act like we're happy," he responded in a glum sigh. 

"Why? We're still going to have to marry even if we hate each other."

With great effort and a groan known only to emit from adolescent male throats, he offered his arm to her. "Because there will be other officers there and everything has to be perfect or they're going to run off and tell the emperor that my father is bungling everything and he should be replaced. Obviously."

This was another reminder to Rikke that refusing the match was essentially impossible. Her father would simply enter into new marriage negotiations with the next pompous donkey who arrived, and then she'd be saddled with a second Titus right after escaping the first.

So, with her arm hanging limp on top of his, they began their death march to the breakfast table.

The moment their toes stepped out of the villa and into the gardens, her bouncing stomach nearly bounced right out of her. The same thoughts that had tormented her all night resurfaced. Who had been with her in the pool last night? Would they be here at this meal, ready to accuse her of indecent swimming and ruthless murder of a headband?