Chapter 2 #3
It didn’t matter to him whether I was interested in marrying him.
It didn’t matter if I was a crone, a damselfly, or a woman-shaped taro-sack.
He’d marry me out of honor and duty because it was what was expected of him.
I was set dressing to this decision, a pretty little bride who should be seen and not heard.
I stabbed at the remaining spuds on my plate, envisioning Jessarian’s face on them.
Speaking up would do me no good. I’d tried many times before.
Mama and Papa would silence me on the basis of my disrespect and lack of propriety while we were in Jessarian’s company.
They’d insist that this wedding was their decision, not mine, and that the joining of our families had been agreed upon decades ago.
They’d join forces and insist this was for the best of the whole family, not only me, and that it was selfish for me to say otherwise.
It was a fight we’d had hundreds of times before.
At least they couldn’t accuse me of being too young to truly understand, anymore.
They liked Jessarian’s family because of the affluence his father had as a Priest. I disliked their entire brood. His father was a pompous ass, and the apple had rotted on the bough before it fell from the tree.
The taro looked mashed. Stabbing the mush was cathartic.
“Oh that won’t do,” Mama fretted. “We must have at least the standard festivities beyond just vows and–.”
“We shouldn’t worry over such trivial matters,” Jessarian cut in, waving his hands in a dismissal.
My laughter started quietly at first, with rising volume and a hint of hysteria as it continued.
“Lisia?” Papa asked. “Are you alright?”
“Does it matter?” I shot back. “You seem to have it all figured out without me.” I threw my cutlery down onto my plate, sliding my chair back against the floor with deliberate force so it screeched, standing up. Queasiness rose with the motion. “Excuse me.”
“Lisia!” Mama called after me, but I ignored her.
I had a long day ahead with the Mistrun tomorrow. I could've stayed up all night to hear the familiar hum of my family’s voices again. But listening to Jessarian, and hearing the discussion about my upcoming wedding was like swallowing ash.
Turning on my heel, I went to my old bedroom.
My room was as I'd left it, with a thin layer of dust sprinkled on top. I shook out the sheets on my bed, crawling under the blankets and pulling them up to my chin. Inhaling the smells of my childhood, I found I couldn't let myself fully relax.
This wasn’t home anymore. Hearing the planning over dinner for a future I didn’t want from the people I loved drove the sharp point in. This was a husk where my home had once been. I didn’t have a home anymore.
They’d invited Jessarian over five days before they thought I was due to be released, so they could get the details of my wedding arranged before I was around to hear them.
They didn’t care what I thought about any of it, they wanted a compliant, obedient daughter who’d show up to the ceremony in the frippery of their choosing, and say the words they wanted to hear.
And more importantly, they wanted the bridewealth they’d been promised from Jessarian’s father decades ago.
For the low low price of their daughter’s happiness, they could buy themselves a restored reputation and life filled with feasts. Like tonight’s.
Jessarian could be the son of a Prelate and I still wouldn't want to marry him–unless he was worth marrying. I'd rather be alone forever than stuck with someone I detested.
I knew what Papa would say, 'There can be no changing the Tide'. Except, this wasn't the Tide, it was the opposite, a choice. It had just been their choice, not mine. Maybe it wouldn’t sting so much if I hadn’t spent two years imprisoned for a law they’d broken.
It had been nice to see my family again, to hear their voices. I’d missed them. But dinner had made me so mad I wanted to throw things.
At Jessarian especially, I wanted to throw something damaging at his too-straight nose.
He hadn’t changed one iota. My family and I would have another fight about it later, I was sure of it.
Not that it would make any difference. They would continue the parade of pleasantries and civility until they’d finished finalizing the wedding details.
Oh-ho-ho, thank you so much for taking our little challenge off our hands. It is such a brave sacrifice, we know it won’t be easy marrying her. Please, don’t pay any mind to her teeth and talons.
Rising from bed, I packed my most prized possessions into a bag as I fumed; the scarf Mama had knitted me, the yo-yo, my missive mirror.
I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, and having something to do with my hands kept me from breaking anything.
I’d need to be prepared to relocate to the Voyager outpost in case I did manage to qualify.
Stopping midway through packing, I eyed the window. The wild called. Sneaking out was practically tradition by now.
No one would rush to check on me. This was immature, or overemotional, or dramatic behavior, after all.
They loved me.
I just didn’t feel it.