3. Sophie
Miss Claris tightened the straps on my corset against my already bruised ribs, and what little air I’d had in my lungs whooshed out. Stars sparkled on the edge of my vision, and as I blinked them away, I was half convinced I was going to faint. I placed a hand on the mirror to steady myself.
“Last one, mistress,” Miss Claris grunted, her voice clipped with concentration.
I hated this new design in corsets necessary for the style of dresses Father had ordered. Apparently, this season was all about tiny waists and giant skirts, and nothing to do with comfort or practicality or even the ability to breathe.
For a moment I felt anchorless, adrift, disoriented within this world, but I pushed the familiar sensation down at once, finding the cool calm void that plastered a blank smile on my face. I didn’t think about the future. I didn’t think at all.
There was a sharp knock on my door, instantly recognizable as my father’s walking stick. “Sophie? Are you decent?”
“One moment, Father.”
I was only in my shift, corset, and underskirt, so the maid found my silk dressing robe, and I tied it quickly around my waist. Miss Claris opened the door, bobbing a curtsy to the man waiting there.
A happy glint in Father’s pale eyes made my heart wobble with nerves. His stride even bounced a little as he entered my bedroom to loom over me. Reddish-blond hair was tightly pulled back over his scalp and held in place by an onyx clasp, before falling down, completely straight to his waist. His beard was as neatly trimmed as always, a sharp square that only covered his chin.
“You’re no longer required to visit the Greggory’s for tea this afternoon, my dear. You have received an offer of marriage, and I have accepted. Therefore, there is no point in you going out, and we must get you measured for your wedding dress.”
The void quivered around me, and my heart thumped even as I clung to the edges of cool emptiness, desperate to feel nothing. Frederick had been dead eleven days. I had failed to bear him a child. Who could want me with such little persuasion? I lowered my eyes. “That is good news, Father. May I ask who I am to marry?”
Father’s face broke into a full grin, a sight I had rarely seen. “General Kasten Batton.” He elongated each word to make the name sound as grand as possible. “You, my dear, have done very well. You’ve captured the eye of the bastard prince. We will be related to royalty. I always knew you would do well with a little direction.”
The void shattered. I sat down heavily on a chair. I didn’t understand. What interest could that serious man possibly have in me? His eyes were cold, his mouth always a firm angry line, he appeared like a villain from a fairy tale; he terrified me. Father must have arranged something with threats or bribes.
I tried to see past my panic to the benefits this marriage would bring my family. Even though General Batton was out of favor at court, marrying him would mean we were close relatives of the king. That would increase the credibility of Father’s moneylending business and broaden my sisters’ marriage prospects. It would bring wealth. Father was right. It was in the family’s best interests.
I grasped for strength and shaky confidence to subdue my fear. It was another hurdle, another challenge. I would overcome this one too.
My family would likely never have such an opportunity again.
I thought of my sisters’ joy—being presented at court with links to nobility. Maybe they would even have the chance to marry for love. Our family’s position would be secure for generations.
I’d been trained all my life to be a good wife and please others. I could do this. I would win the general over too.
When I’d convinced myself enough, I looked up to meet Father’s eyes. He was still smiling to himself. “I’m suggesting you marry in three days.”
Another blow. I struggled to keep my expression neutral as it became harder and harder to breathe. “Three days? So soon? But what will people think?”
He scoffed. “I couldn’t care less what people think. It’s too great an opportunity to let it slip by, and the date he will be dispatched back to the war has not been confirmed. We can’t risk him dying before this is finalized. And anyway, it’s not good to stay a widow for long, and the prospects offered by this wedding are beyond my expectations. I will have the entire staff focused on it at once. Your brother and sisters will be so happy.”
I lowered my eyes, feeling the bars of my cage tightening around me, closer than any corset. I would survive. I always did, and my family would move upward. It would all be worth it for them.
I nodded, but he was already leaving the room. Miss Claris had started loosening the corset straps, allowing air to flood back into my lungs, when the servant door to my room clattered open and Irabel stumbled through.
My youngest sister had just turned fifteen and was completely spoiled by her mother. Our family fortunes had been far better when she was born than when I was, although we only had five and a half years between us. As such, she was far more free-spirited and carefree. Father had yet to place any of the pressures on her that he frequently placed on me and George.
She grinned at me as she straightened her frilly blush-pink skirts. “You’re marrying General Kasten Batton? This is the best news!” She ran up to me and hugged me. “You’re going to be a princess! This is so exciting. I’m going to tell Claribel right away.”
Miss Claris frowned at her. “You should not be eavesdropping, Miss Irabel. It is not ladylike in the slightest. Nor should you be using the servant’s passage.”
Irabel shrugged and pushed a blonde ringlet behind her ear. “Father was so excited by his letter at breakfast, how could I not be curious? I would have found out soon anyway.” She turned back to me and clapped her hands. “A princess. You’re going to be a princess!”
I smiled despite the hollow dread inside and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nonsense, Irabel. He’s not a prince and not in line for the throne. He’s illegitimate, remember? He’s only a general.”
She only clapped again. “I’m so excited. Can I embroider your veil for the wedding? I have the perfect crystals from Nibawae that I’ve been saving. They would add a beautiful shimmer.” She ran a hand over the air above my hair as if imagining it on me. “I’m so glad you don’t have to stay as a widow and wear black and be sad all the time. Do you think we’ll all be invited to the palace now? Oh, it would be amazing. Like a dream!” She clasped my hands. “You are truly a wonderful big sister. Be sure to visit us often. You barely did when you were with Frederick. I’m going to tell Claribel.”
She ran out of the room with a huge smile.
I blinked back sudden tears. Maybe this would be bearable if it made my sisters so happy. I never wanted them to go through what I had. I could endure the uphill struggle so they didn’t have to, and Irabel could always remain that carefree.
Miss Claris finally freed the corset. “I will send for the dressmaker at once. Three days is not long to make sure you have a dress worthy of the newspapers. All eyes are going to be on our family, my lady. You can’t afford to be anything but perfect.”
Miss Claris had been right.Three days wasn’t long at all.
The skirts of my ivory dress were so long, the silk whispered as it dragged and slithered over the cold flagstones of the aisle. I kept my back straight and my footsteps short as I’d been taught. The clip clop of my heels echoed sharply around the silent chapel. I almost expected to see Frederick’s coffin at the front of the church. Haunting me. Accusing me of something I didn’t do. Making me feel helpless and small all over again.
But no. I would have a new husband now.
Step. Step. Step.
Although my husband-to-be had royal blood, few people stood in the steeply-tiered seats for the wedding. It had been an incredibly rushed affair, after all. The only person of note was the Second Prince Clarence and the gaggle of adolescent nobility who accompanied him everywhere. The fourteen-year-old slouched, whispering to a companion as if he would rather be anywhere else. Irabel kept glancing at him with a not-so-subtle smile while Claribel gave her warning glances. Irabel would feel Father’s cane if she wasn’t careful.
Step. Step. Step.
I caught the word “shameless,” hissed in my direction but didn’t turn my head to find the source. I didn’t need anything else to increase my nerves. I focused my eyes ahead and ignored everything else.
General Batton stood at the end of the aisle, bolt straight and in his military uniform. His black hair was neatly oiled so his fringe arched to one side above his forehead, and he wore a fiercely determined expression as if about to ride into a bloody battle. I hid a flicker of nervous amusement. Was I really so scary? My humor dried. No. He was probably steeling himself to marry me. I suspected he had been forced into this for reasons I was unaware of. Father was like that, brilliant and ruthless. He could manipulate everyone into doing what he wanted. I doubted even illegitimate princes were beyond his schemes.
I reached my soon-to-be-husband and turned to stand opposite him, concentrating on controlling my breathing. The gaze of the onlookers bored into me, their whispers spoken behind feathered fans clogging my ears and burning my cheeks. I wasn’t the only one confused about why this wedding was happening and in such a rush. Frederick wasn’t yet cold in the ground.
I braved a glance at General Kasten Batton. He loomed over me. Now that I was close, I was shocked by how young he was to have such a dark presence; his skin was perfectly smooth apart from a scar above one eyebrow and serious grooves bracketing his mouth. He had no laughter lines. His countenance was always so severe and his exploits so well known, I had forgotten he wasn’t even close to thirty yet.
His expression was one of resolve, and his stance was formal. His most striking feature was the shape of his eyes. They were long and narrow and angular—almost sharp. And they were deep set, the shadows in the corners further enhancing their length, and turning the darkness of his pupils to black. The shape made him appear older, more serious, maybe even brutal. Even if he smiled, the shape of his eyes would make him look cruel. Something about them chilled me, leaching any warmth from inside me. The rest of his face was also distinctive. It was broad, with a large nose but a delicate triangular chin and thick lips. His chin and lips should have made him seem feminine, but nothing about him was soft. His pronounced cheekbones made his face appear slightly gaunt.
It was the sort of face that one would study, unsure whether its unusual nature made it attractive or merely striking. But I could only hold the gaze of those eyes for a few seconds. To me, his face spelled danger.
I wasn’t sure where to look, even through the protection of the thin white veil covered in Irabel’s crystals, so I stared at the rows of buttons down his long, smart coat. Each one had a hawk head engraved in curling lines that reminded me of fire. He wore a ceremonial sword with rubies on the hilt, but otherwise his outfit was unadorned for somebody of his station. I hoped he didn’t find me frivolous in comparison. My dress was covered in yellow ribbons to signify the color of my house and silk roses and lace. Exactly how Father liked to wrap me up to present me. He always said we had to overcompensate for our bloodline. We had to be the best dressed, the most fashionable, and immaculately polite to show that we belonged.
The general didn’t have to do any of that. He simply was.
I knew next to nothing about his personal life—the same as everyone I had spoken to. He was an enigma I would have to learn fast if I was to make the best of this situation. Would he be better or worse than Frederick? Or was it awful of me to compare them at all?
I looked down at my feet and steadied my heart. I had a lot to offer. I could run a household efficiently. I was good with numbers. I could look and walk and talk with perfect etiquette. I could host a party or a ball, and I knew not to intrude on his privacy. This was a challenge I was equipped for. I had to trust in that. Even so, a slight tremble ran down my arms.
The priest had stopped speaking. It was time for the vows. The older man placed my hand on top of the general’s as he wrapped a delicate golden chain around them. I held my breath as the silk of my glove brushed his skin. It felt strange to be touching the man who was such a gravitating presence in every room he entered. The general’s hands were long and slender, and I noticed a scar running from his knuckles to his wrist.
We repeated our vows, both our voices sounding wooden, and the golden chain was removed. But I knew the reality; it was still there, tying us together until death. And as much as I didn’t understand this wedding or the general, I didn’t want to lose a second husband. I wished him a healthy, happy, long life as any wife should.
My corset felt even tighter as heavy incense wafted around, and I struggled to breathe through the thick clouds that caught in my throat. The general took my arm, and I walked quickly down the aisle by his side, eager to be back in the fresh late spring air.
I was glad there wasn’t going to be a party that I had to stand and smile through. Time had been too limited to prepare for me to be a good hostess, and the general had stated he had pressing business to attend to in his lands. Father only wanted me wed and gone; the political connection was there, whether we had a party to celebrate or not. This saved him money, although, Father had stated publicly that a party would bring me too many painful memories of Frederick.
General Batton indicated a carriage on the opposite side of the street without speaking. It was painted silver and pale blue with the crest of Kasomere on the side: a hawk carrying an apple in one talon, an arrow in the other. Now it was my crest too.
“Wait here.” His tone reminded me of a commander ordering his troops. He went to call the carriage over.
I waited with my gloved hands clasped in front of me, smiling as I accepted congratulations from the people sweeping out from the church behind me. They bobbed around with polite smiles and amused eyes. Father was nowhere to be seen. He was probably lingering inside talking to business partners. My sisters, brother, and stepmother were chatting with guests as they passed through the door.
The carriage pulled up in front of me, and onlookers lifted pale blue and yellow handkerchiefs, shaking them in the air to send us off. The colors of my new house and the house I was leaving behind. General Batton opened the carriage door as soon as it halted. He held it for me, extending his other arm. I murmured my thanks as he helped me up the two steps. His larger form blocked out the light as he climbed in behind me.
The door clicked shut, and he let the gauzy curtains fall across the windows.
Sound became muffled. It was just him and me.
There was a sudden scrabbling at the opposite door, the side of the carriage that faced the road and the park opposite the church. I edged away from the noise as I looked at my new husband in alarm.
His expression didn’t change as he opened the door. A man who must have been hiding under the carriage scrambled in. He was filthy and dressed in browns and blacks, a cap on his head.
“Tar’ratha,” he whispered, his eyes wide and hands shaking.
To my surprise, the general grunted, shutting the carriage door quickly. He lifted the top of his seat to reveal a space for storing luggage. The man climbed into the space before my husband slapped the padded lid over him and sat back down with a bland expression as if nothing had happened. He knocked on the carriage wall with his knuckle to signify to the driver that we were ready to leave.
The carriage lurched. I opened my mouth before closing it again, my heartbeat pushing against the bones of the corset. Who was that man? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to start our marriage on the wrong foot. If my husband wanted me to know, he would have told me.
Maybe asking while the man was still in the carriage wasn’t the best time, anyway.
General Batton had wedged himself in the opposite corner to me, as if he was trying to sit as far away from me as possible. I tried to not feel the sting of the gesture. He pushed the curtains to one side to look over the streets with those intense, shadowed eyes, his expression serious yet relaxed. A group of men in city guard livery rushed past us. Another guard rode on horseback in the opposite direction, stopping passersby to peer under hoods or check beneath the awnings of carts.
They were searching for the man hiding beneath my husband’s seat.
The general atmosphere of excitement and disruption made it harder to breathe. If only I could take this ridiculous dress off. I needed to keep my wits sharp and engage my new husband with lively conversation, which wasn’t easy when the corset was making my stomach hurt and turning my legs numb.
The carriage rattled to an abrupt stop. My heart leaped into my throat. If they found the man in our carriage, we would be in serious trouble. Why was he running, and how did he know the general? I gritted my teeth. Regardless, I would play my part.
A sharp knock on the carriage door made me jump. General Batton swung it open with a deep scowl. “There had better be a good reason for this.” His low, slow tone of voice made the hairs down my spine stand up.
The guard paled and cleared his throat. “Terribly sorry to disturb you, General. We are, eh, looking for a man. We seek to catch him as a matter of urgency, you see.”
The general didn’t even blink as he glared at the man. “And what has that got to do with us on our wedding day?”
The guard seemed to shrink in on himself, licking his lips. “I’m sorry, my lord.” He turned to me and gave a small bow. “My lady. But have you seen anything…”
I put my hand to my forehead. “Forgive me, but I am feeling a sudden nausea. It must be the heat and all the excitement.” I lifted my eyes to General Batton’s. “Are we close? I hope to lie down soon. Maybe then you can return and help this good man look for the criminal?”
My husband’s expression darkened with a sour twist to his lips as he regarded the man.
The guard grew even paler, withering under his gaze. “That won’t be necessary. I won’t delay you further.” He took a step back from the carriage door. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. Please feel better soon, my lady.”
He barked out a command, and the street in front of us cleared, allowing us to set off even faster than before.
I startled as my husband tilted his head forward, his narrow, dark eyes studying my face. His scowl had gone. “Are you ill, Sophie?” He was tall enough that his head almost brushed the roof.
My mouth dried at the shock of hearing my name on his lips. I supposed we were married now, but it was peculiar to hear a stranger addressing me so informally.
I shook my head, reassuring him with a smile. “I’m quite all right, thank you. I merely wanted to quicken the guard’s departure.”
He chuckled with a lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but his posture relaxed as he leaned back. “Well, you certainly managed that. Don’t worry. Our stowaway won’t be with us much longer.”
He turned back to the window, his lips still curved in the first smile I’d ever seen on him, and I wished I could read his mind. I folded my gloved hands neatly in my lap. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and I could respect that.
After a few minutes of silence, we rounded a corner to a quieter street. “We’re spending the night in my townhouse on the outskirts of Highfair, then we’ll be leaving for home in the morning.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “We leave the city tomorrow?”
He nodded, still frowning out of the window. “I can’t stand it here in Adenburg. The noise, the people, the fuss. I hope you will like Kasomere. Things are much more tolerable there.” He turned to look at me with a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before. I wondered if it was the thought of returning home.
I smiled, glad to have found a subject that made him happy. “It sounds lovely. I look forward to seeing it.”
“I’ve asked for your belongings to be taken straight to Kasomere from Sir Halfield’s estate.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
We jolted as the carriage caught an uneven cobblestone. Pain lanced up my back and the ends of the corset bones spiked my skin. I thought of the poor man squashed within the seat. He had to be hot and very uncomfortable.
“You look pale.”
I snapped my attention back to the general with another practiced smile. “I assure you, I am fine.”
He frowned. “The way you sit is very rigid, and this part of the road is uneven. There’s no need to put on a show for me. Won’t you relax a bit? You should rest. You must have had a…busy morning.”
I felt a blush creep up my neck and fought the urge to fidget. “My dress is very stiff, my lord. I’m afraid I can’t sit any other way.”
His frown deepened as if the concept was completely foreign to him. “Your dress… It’s rigid? Like armor?”
I fought a twitch of my lips. “I suppose so, my lord.”
“What on earth for? Nobody’s going to stab you. It must be uncomfortable.”
I paused to search for the right words. If only I knew him better, then I would be able to say the appropriate thing. I didn’t want to complain or seem ungrateful. I also didn’t want to lie. And he had done me a huge honor in choosing me as his wife despite my lower station and being widowed. “It is very tight around my chest, my lord. Such is the fashion, especially this season.”
He scowled, and my heart stuttered. Had I said the wrong thing? He swore. “Sounds ridiculous to me.”
My breath caught in shock at his language.
He waved his hand at me. “You’re far too pale. Even your lips. Can’t you loosen it?”
I stared at him in surprise. He wanted me to loosen my dress? In a carriage? “Ah no, my lord. I’m tied into it by a maid. There are laces on the dress, and it’s the er…the corset beneath that is tight.” I could feel my cheeks heat as my words ran out of air. He still looked bewildered, so I added, “A maid does all of it.”
Before I could process what was happening, the carriage seat creaked as the heavy weight of the general settled beside me. “Turn around,” he ordered.
I complied, my heart racing. I’d never been trained for this sort of situation. It was highly irregular. But he was my husband now, and he could do as he wished. Besides, I supposed I should be grateful for his concern.
I could feel his hands fumbling with the bow at the bottom of the bodice. My embarrassment increased as he cursed, muttered something about it being too tight and, before I could stop him, unsheathed a dagger from his thigh. I felt a pop as he cut through the bow, and the laces lost some of their tension. My stomach lurched. If he continued like this, my whole dress might fall off. How was I going to leave the carriage? It would be mortifying. And what about the man inside the seat? What did he think was going on right now?
“How can you even breathe, woman?” His breath felt hot on the nape of my neck, exposed by my bridal hairstyle in which my pale golden waves were curled atop my head. “What even is this thing under here?”
I started to count to keep calm but only reached two before he used his dagger to cut the ties on my corset. Now, only my thin shift remained intact. I squealed in surprise and horror. Air flooded into my lungs and the pain in my stomach vanished. I resisted the urge to rub my legs as pins and needles pricked my skin and the sensation began to return. I needed to keep my arms tight against the front of my bodice to prevent any…accidents.
The seat shifted as the general moved back to the other side of the carriage. “More comfortable now?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I held my bodice firmly in place and continued facing the opposite wall. I didn’t think my cheeks had ever been so red. Somebody was sure to see what he’d done. The dress and the corset were ruined.
The general rubbed his chin as he studied me. “Oh.”
He stood, though he was unable to straighten fully in the carriage, and kicked the seat beneath him. “You come out before I say, and you’re a dead man. Got it?”
There was a muffled reply. The general opened the carriage door while we were still moving and slipped out.
I gaped as the door closed behind him. Was he climbing along the side of a moving carriage? Whatever for? And where was he going? Why hadn’t he just asked the driver to stop? I didn’t understand this man at all.
I looked at the opposite seat, its top still in place. The man inside didn’t make a sound. I let out a deep breath and collapsed back. I hadn’t wanted or asked the general to relieve the pressure from my corset, but I was far more comfortable now. My body could sway with the carriage rather than the impact jarring my spine. But how would I get out once we arrived? He’d cut through everything that kept the bodice together.
What he had done, well, it simply wasn’t proper. But I couldn’t see how I could stop others finding out and becoming the gossip of Adenburg.