Page 11 of Trivium

She quickly scanned the crowd for Kumani and sighed a breath of relief at her absence. Her parents had accepted they were dating—it was fine to have a girlfriend—but as soon as they broke up, her mother had preached to her about the importance of finding a husband.

To most Jarrians, marriage was a free declaration of love. After the age of twenty-one, they could marry whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and it would be celebrated. Nobles, however, played by different rules. Noble marriage was strictly between a man and a woman because otherwise they couldn’t produce noble children. Whenever Loveleena had questioned it, she was given some long, boring spiel about duty, honor, and carrying on the family name.

“Wow I…” She really was speechless, which was rare for Loveleena. This was absolutely ridiculous. A party, sure. But this was a spectacle. Her noble training kicked in and she plastered her face with her biggest smile.

“Surprise! Happy twenty-fourth birthday!” Lana said from behind her. “Mother and father would like to introduce you to someone.”

Her face fell. The truth was like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t just a birthday party; this was an engagement party.

Goddess above, she needed to get out of here. But she had no time to escape because her mother was upon her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“My Leena,” she whispered. “Please, come.” To her left, a man stepped forward. “Meet Jensen Revel.”

“Loveleena, it’s a pleasure.”

She held out her hand and he took it gracefully, offering her a slight bow. She eyed the top of his ashy-haired-head with disdain. He was, by all accounts, handsome—sharp jaw, steady nose, the shadow of a beard—yet something essential was missing, leaving him oddly unappealing.

How was she going to get out of this one?

On her twenty-first birthday, she had convinced her parents to give her until her twenty-fourth birthday to marry. She figured that by then she could come up with a new excuse. And if not, Park was there for backup. Her mother had left the subject alone while she grieved Park’s disappearance. Until now, that is.

Now she was hitting her over the head with it.

Jensen Revel was from northern Jarrah. Her mother quickly briefed her on all his many, many accomplishments and respectable associations while Loveleena fought the urge to run by picking at her fingernail. Northern Jarrians were the worst. Too polite, uptight, and superficial. They made her itchy.

Against her will, years of noble family etiquette training took over, and she politely asked for Jensen to retrieve her a glass of wine, just to get rid of him. Her mother, mid-story about her father’s latest business venture, went with him arm in arm, and Loveleena thanked the Moon Goddess for that.

Leander tucked himself beside her, watching their mother and Jensen fade into the crowd. “Now you can actually be useful to someone, you know, as a wife.” He met her side-eye with a cheeky grin. “Instead of running around town ruining the family name.”

He was going to pay for that.

“Getting married is an honor,” her sister joined in, adding to his point. Loveleena scowled at them. They were supposed to be on her side, not minions to her mother’s ulterior motives and a man with a personality of a spoon.

As soon as her mother was out of sight, she grabbed her brother, putting him into a headlock. “Really? Useful?” she gritted out as she rubbed the top of his head while he squirmed to escape her grasp.

✧✧✧✧

The party was breathtaking.

The Alvas wouldn’t accept anything less. They ate the finest whipped garlic and herb cheeses, baked bread still warm from the oven, and pickled pepper caps. Afterwards they danced along to the string orchestra until their bellies cramped and their cheeks hurt from laughing.

And as soon as everyone was distracted enough not to notice her absence, she snuck down to the kitchens and sat on the counter while Gina prepared her a meal. Tonight, her favorite late-night routine featured the tully.

“Married.” A piece of bread fell out of her mouth, and she stuffed more into her cheek. The wine had made her chewing sloppy. Made her sloppy. She didn’t care. That was probably the wine too. “Can you believe that? It was a freaking engagement party, Gina!”

“Leena.” Gina didn’t take her eyes off her knife as she chopped vegetables. “You are that age, though. Would it be so terrible?”

Loveleena froze, a lump of soggy bread lodged in her cheek. “I’m twenty-four, Gina; I’m barely an adult. And yes, it would be terrible.”

“Your sister was married with her second child on the way at your age.”

Loveleena scrunched her face.

Gina laughed. “Jensen, he’s handsome, no? There’s talk he’s enjoyable to look at.”

“Yeah, if you like staring at a wall,” Loveleena mumbled through bites, disgust on her face, “while chewing on paper.” Gina let out another full body laugh and passed her the tully stew, its steam swirling upward in the most artful dance. “Careful, it’s hot.”

The sound that left Loveleena’s mouth was borderline sexual. “Goddess, Gina.” She shoveled it into her mouth, ignoring its searing burn to her tongue. Her mouth was so full with tully stew, her words came out jumbled. “This is otherworldly.”