Part III
My carriage leaves at first light, bound for the duke’s estate in Darryn. Our wedding will take place shortly after my arrival, not that I’m celebrating. The man is more than twice my age and, from what I hear, abhors parties, music, or anything else that passes for entertainment.
I might as well be headed to my execution, though it doesn’t seem like anyone else cares.
Then again, I’m not certain anyone knows that I’m being shipped off.
I haven’t been allowed out of my rooms in days.
The sole company I’m permitted is Mother, who visits only to scold or lecture, fixing me with that dour expression she has when she’s disappointed—her lips pursed and her nose lifted. She looks like a badger.
Father, for his part, hasn’t been to see me once. Mother says he won’t come—not even tomorrow, to bid his only daughter farewell. Apparently, he can’t bear the sight of me. Mother claims I should count myself fortunate that he didn’t devise a worse punishment for my supposed crime.
Rubbish. There is no worse punishment than marriage. And I didn’t do anything that Papa wouldn’t have attempted himself. In fact, he’s probably done worse. No matter. They can banish me if they like. But I will not forget this.
And I will not forgive.
—From the private writings of Princess Margaret, Age of the Light 22