67 A Dangerous Proposal (1/2)
Usoa pulled her lips into a smile, prepared to apologize for her quick departure. Her father's face met her, eyes like flames, light sparking from him. He's never been this upset with me, she thought quickly as she lifted her hands to apologize, to soothe the man who had always been gentle and sweet with her, much to the first wife's upset.
She paused as she became aware of what stood in front of her. The game had stopped, everyone's eyes were locked on the Emperor's canopy, including the players who should be currently locked in gameplay. Why they were not was clear.
Ferran sat before her father. His body bent, his knee on the ground, his head pressed low.
”This man,” her father said slowly, one thick finger pointing down at her would be lover's prone body, ”has requested your hand in marriage. What is the meaning of this?”
Her lips parted and she turned to Ferran in shock. She had no words to answer her father, Ferran's actions were just as erratic to her as they were to her father.
”With all due respect, my lord, my heart belongs to your daughter. I cannot let her leave these lands without trying.”
His words struck a cold cord in her that swept through her body. She turned her wide eyed gaze on Ferran, confused by his words, his actions. It's an affront to purpose marriage while we're celebrating my sisters, you dishonor my father, she thought frantically but there was no way to say so, it would only make things worse for the man who now, for the sake of his heart, would face losing his head.
Around her ankles she felt the gentle touch of Lloren's shadows again and she glanced over to find him, back in his seat, his eyes focused on her. She shrugged, the smallest of movements, unsure of what else to say or do.
”Is this your man?” her father barked kicking the prostrate Ferran who bent at the force of it but did not fall. Her father, she realized, had held back. His body had been honed in years of training. Ferran, though a soldier, would be no match for him.
They'll execute him if I say no, she thought frantically. She nodded.
The shadow threads that touched her skin faltered and stilled for a moment before tightening on her. She glanced at Lloren again and found his eyes had turned to her father and Ferran, a frown on his lips.
Her father turned back to the man on the ground who rightfully kept his head lowered, his body folded and small. She watched as her father's lips turned into a sneer and growling he asked a question she did not expect at all. ”Usoa! Speak quickly! Do you return this man's affections for you?”
There was no time, his life hung in the balance and her heart could not mean more than a full life. She nodded, the head movement a lie as she felt little for him she realized but it sealed their fates, locking them together.
”I cannot approve this union. Not while my younger daughter is to be celebrated. You have both brought shame onto your heads,” her father's voice boomed, sounding throughout the field. He paused, letting the weight of his words press on them.
She felt the press of shadows, so thin they were nearly invisible, against her fingers. They wrapped around her digits and inched up her wrists, resting against her pulse, holding her hands still. Below her skirts they wrapped around her ankles anchoring her to the ground as if he knew by some strange ability that given the chance she would run, her legs carrying her away from everything that unfolded in front of her. It took her the long moment of her father's silence to realize that Lloren's threads were stroking the hollows of her wrist as if to calm her pounding heart.