3
FINN
Finn had not intended to see his father that morning. But when Cecily spoke his name, his resolve hardened.
Finn crossed the inner court at Veyron Hall without breaking stride.
His father, Lord Alard de Veyron, received him in the solar, the small upper chamber where the lord of the house spent his private hours. He was seated at the long table reviewing his accounts. The windows stood open to the gardens beyond.
“You are up early,” Alard said, without looking up.
“So are you,” Finn replied.
Alard lifted his gaze with studied calm.
“I’ve come to speak of your proposed marriage,” Finn said. That earned his father’s full attention.
“Ah,” Alard said mildly. “Then the Lady de Malet has been talkative.”
Finn’s jaw tightened. “You frightened her, so I heard.”
“On the contrary,” Alard said. “I explained her obligations. Her duty. She is of excellent lineage. Her mother’s bloodline is solid, and her father, despite his beginnings, has proven himself useful.”
Useful. As though Thomas de Malet, a knight of the realm, was a trained pet.
“A mason, once,” Alard continued calmly. “He has risen well beyond it.”
“She is young,” Finn said. “Too young for you, Father. You must see that.”
“She is of age,” Alard replied. “And she will be well cared for.”
Finn remembered his mother toward the end—standing at the window, hands folded low against her swollen belly, staring absently at the manicured gardens below. He had been old enough then to know she was afraid.
But another child would further secure the line. Another son would strengthen the house. Finn had not understood then what that demanded of her.
“You cannot do this,” Finn said.
Alard’s expression hardened. “I will.”
“She is not breeding stock,” Finn said, and felt his control slip. “She is not something you can wear out and replace. Not like Mother.”
Alard’s eyes sharpened. “Mind your words.”
“You speak of marriage as though it costs nothing,” Finn said. “As though women, young women, do not pay a price.”
“They submit to their purpose,” Alard replied evenly. “As men submit to theirs. This is the way of the world, boy, and you should grasp it by now.”
“My mother submitted to hers,” Finn said. “Until it killed her.”
Silence fell.
Alard rose from his chair with deliberate calm. “Your mother was fragile,” he said. “She fulfilled her role as best as she was able.”
Finn’s hands closed into fists. For a moment, he could not trust himself to speak.
“She was younger even than Lady de Malet,” Finn said at last.
Alard moved closer. “You will not interfere. This match strengthens alliances we cannot afford to lose.”
“You have two heirs already,” Finn said. “I am your heir, and Geoffrey stands behind me. Why strive for more?”
His father directed a stern gaze toward him. “Do not interfere with this union.”
Finn left the solar, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He saw Cecily’s face in his mind—the desperation she fought to hide. A fortnight. His father had given her family a fortnight. Which meant Finn had less time than that to stop it.