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Ehren nodded. “Mother told me. You must have been surprised.”
She thought her voice would shake. Instead, she found herself saying calmly, “It’s too sudden, Ehren. Far too sudden.”
Again that wary look. “You mean the business with Maester Bartos.”
“Of course I mean that. Don’t you think it strange that Maester Bartos broke off the marriage? He must have had a reason. And besides—” Her voice had scaled upward. She broke off and tried again. “I’ve heard rumors. Nothing definite, but nothing good. And no one has seen Marina Bartos for three days. I want to know what happened to her.”
But Ehren was shaking his head. “Gossip. That’s all you’ve heard, Therez. There is nothing wrong with Marina Bartos except an attack of the vapors. Galt counts himself lucky to have discovered the truth about her character before their marriage took place.”
“You heard from him, but not from her family.”
“I don’t need to. Theodr Galt is a respectable man. He wants a suitable wife to handle his social affairs, not someone who takes to their bed at the least contradiction or correction. And he’s not the only lucky person. You are, too. With Galt as your husband, you will have money and status, everything you could want.”
And you and Papa will have favorable terms on the shipping contracts.
She ought to nod obediently. Ought not to protest. It was, after all, what all the good families expected of their children. But Galt frightened her. It was how his lips paled when he saw her dancing with Mann. It was his tone, when he did not like her replies, and the look on his face when he took possession of her hand. The fury she sensed running just beneath the surface. Magic had made it plain to her, but once detected she thought it obvious to anyone. The rumors only confirmed what she already knew. Theodr Galt was a cruel man.
Ehren took her hands in his and smiled. “Therez, you’re just reacting to the surprise. I’ll attend Father’s meeting with Galt tomorrow. I promise to look out for you.”
Hope, quickly followed by doubt. “What if you find he was at fault with Marina Bartos?”
“I told you. Those stories are just rumors.”
“But what if those rumors are true?”
Her brother made an exasperated noise. “I tell you they aren’t. Besides, Papa wants to expand the business, and with the trade embargoes, Maester Galt can help us with new routes.”
“Us? Aren’t you going back to university?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know.”
So our father has snared us both.
Slowly she nodded. “I understand.”
“You do?” Ehren gazed at her anxiously.
“I understand perfectly.”
Still he hesitated. “You sound …” He paused. “Empty.”
She smiled. “I’m just tired, Ehren. I think I’ll go to my rooms. Thank you.”
In her own rooms, a maid had waited up for her. Therez dismissed her, saying she would undress herself. A grateful look flashed across the maid’s face. She dropped into a curtsy and left Therez to her solitude.
Therez extinguished the lamps in her outer rooms one by one. Methodical—that was the key to self-control. She proceeded into her bedchamber where a single lamp burned. She took off her dress and laid it carefully over a chair. Next came her stockings and her jewelry and undergown. Dressed in her shift, she removed the pearls from her hair and unbound her long braid.
Tomorrow Galt and my father will negotiate the terms and sign the papers, she thought, brushing out her hair. They might even announce the betrothal in public.
Therez shivered. She had the sudden vivid image how Theodr Galt had looked, clasping her hand, when he said good night. But now all perspective had changed. She was shrinking, her figure dwindling to the size of a gem, which he picked up and gazed at with satisfaction, before placing her in a box and turning the key.
I can’t marry him. I can’t. I’ll end up just like my mother.
But what could she do? Her father and brother did not care. Her mother had no influence. And her grandmother was dying—whether in a week or a month. She could not help Therez. No one in her family would do what Maester Bartos had done for his daughter.
Therez stood and moved swiftly to her dressing room. She flung open her wardrobe, pushed aside the dresses and gowns, and, reaching into the back, pulled out a riding skirt. It was plain and dark, made of sturdy wool. An armful of warmer tunics and shirts came next, then a pair of low boots. Knitted stockings and underlinens came next. From the linens chest, she dug out three thick blankets.
Money. I need money.
