Page 7 of Titus

I steeled myself, sitting up straighter. That dreadful feeling was seeping its way back inside me, that feeling I’d had on the path home this afternoon with my watcher. Earlier, after Lucinda and I had arrived home, Mother had mentioned only that a guest was expected, no hint of why or who.

I now remembered my parents’ behavior at dinner. This guest had something to do with me, all right.

I looked to Mother then. Needlework put aside, she had her hands folded on her lap, her body angled in my direction, gaze on my father.

Nodding, I cleared my throat. “Yes, Father?”

Father patted his coat pocket for his pipe, not aware that he did so until my mother cleared her throat. He gave her a sheepish smile and then looked back at me. There was sadness in his eyes. “Sierra, this is about your betrothal.”

So, not related to the guest. My stomach clenched anyway. Sure, I could argue, shake my head and cry in disbelief. But honestly, I knew this day would come.

“I figured as much, Father.” I sighed. I had been preparing for my marriage day since I could understand such things. It was no use wishing I was any other girl in the world, one with the privilege to choose love first, then nuptials. “Have I heard of him?”

My father, always calm, always in control, looked… frightened. He eyed my mother, who nodded back, then looked down, studying the royal blue rug at our feet.

“Sierra.” Mother grabbed my hand, her smile proud, but her watery eyes belied any semblance of ease. “It’s the Ongahri. They have come back, my love.” Her grip tightened, as if she wanted to pull me back inside her womb and hide me away forever. I had to admit her behavior alarmed me.

Her words hit me then. I tilted my head and studied her face. “The Ongahri,” I parroted back. Of all the responses my mother could have given me, that one was so unimaginable, so outlandish, that it was more comical than horrifying. Surely, I had misheard. Maybe it was a “Theon Gardi” or some other name that sounded similar to what I thought she’d said. She couldn’t have meant the Ongahri.

She nodded, took me in her arms, then began crying in earnest. Confused, I looked at my father.

He smiled sadly. “You have been chosen as Fealty, Sierra.”

Stunned, a fight between curiosity and fear took place in my mind before fear won, the words dropping like a stone in my stomach. My mother clung to me, and I absently petted her hair, some part of me trying to quell her dramatics while I processed the enormous weight of what Father had just said.

The Fealty. An ancient custom of a bygone era. A bride for the Ongahri’s return. The Ongahri, a people more of myth than living flesh.

No.

“You mean… The Ongahri….” I cleared my throat, not able to wrap my head around what was happening. “This is true? They have returned and you’re really going to marry me to them?”

“The law says we must, Sierra,” Father said sadly. “For hundreds of years, it has been the way of Titus between our people and them, with The Owl as mediator. Just because time has passed doesn’t mean we get complacent and forget who they are.” He fidgeted in his seat, looking highly uncomfortable.

I raised my voice over Mother’s moans. “I don’t—”

“Alyssa, stop that!” he snapped at his wife.

Shocked at his dissemblance, my mother and I started. She instantly stopped crying and released me.

Father rubbed his brow and looked weary. The room was so silent, only our unspoken thoughts echoed.

For the first time ever, I saw my parents as separate individuals, with goals, secrets, wishes, and woes, all apart from my own. The realization took my breath away and made me feel alone in a sea of sharks.

I knew then that everything up until this moment was over. A clear demarcation had been made between what was and what would be. As unbelievable as it was, the Ongahri, who hadn’t inhabited a thought in society’s daily lives in over a hundred years, had returned. And I was to be a part of history, the pawn in an agreement that had been made over a thousand years ago.

Never in my imagination, which was quite vast to begin with, would I have thought this would be my fate.

Are you sure about that? whispered a tiny voice inside, one that lived in dreams and in the quiet moments before dawn.

I reached deep within myself and took a breath, letting it out slowly. This was happening. This was real.

I looked back and forth at Father and Mother. My parents’ suffering was palpable. I could do this. Whatever had been discussed and planned, I would deal with it and accept it. I could no longer bear to see my mother and father in so much misery. It was time I grew up. No more thinking only of myself. No more childish antics or stubborn refusals at their trying to mold me into the daughter they expected me to be.

Father raised a hand. “I know the whole arrangement sounds barbaric, I will allow that. But, Sierra, you are now a woman, old enough to understand—"

“Father, I understand my duty.” I swallowed, taking my mother’s hand. My mother, who was only sniffling now, squeezed mine in return.

Father bowed his head, his shoulders dropping in relief. As if he acknowledged my maturity in this, he sat up straighter, once more the Constant of Providence. “The Owl has announced the Fealty will take place this season. They have chosen you, Daughter. You will represent the people of Titus.”

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