Page 10 of Winds of Destiny

“No.” She shakes her head. “Loran has them with his parents tonight. We didn’t know how long my presence would be required, and they always wake up, no matter how softly I try to enter once they’re asleep.”

Oh. Well, that’s different then. I go with her to her suite, shaking off my desire to see Turo right now. He’s probably holding vigil for Doric anyhow; there’s a special open-air chapel right by the water where the grieving can pray to Ophiucas for the souls of their loved ones. No one loved Doric more than his foster son.

My sister nods at the guards stationed outside her doors as she pulls me inside. Sure enough, the space is still and quiet, but warm for all that. No bare stone and rough coral for my sister; the walls are covered with layers of papery, multicolored mosses that give the room a sense of life, and the floors are softened with seasilk rugs. There’s a little doll on the settee she leads me to, one with a short tuft of gray hair that immediately makes me think of Turo.

Turo.Who my father insists on keeping here while sending me away. Who will probably never tell me what he feels for me now that I’m betrothed to another.

“Cam?”

I don’t even realize I’ve drifted until I see my sister sitting next to me holding two glasses of pale, sweet-smelling wine. She sets them down and touches my cheeks, and that’s when I let myself cry.

“I don’t want to go without Turo,” I choke out. “He’s been mine for as long as I can remember; it isn’t right for Father to take him from me now that I need him more than ever.”

“Father’s timing is very cruel,” Gilraen agrees. “If he had done right by you, he would have separated the two of you when you were still children. You could have grown up as friends, but not so much each other’s worlds. His distraction has led you to this point.”

I’m a little stunned. I’ve never heard my sister utter a word against Turo before, or against my relationship with him. She knows I love him. “Is our attachment truly so bad?” I ask in a small voice.

She sighs and pats the back of my hand. “In many ways, no. Of course not. You know I think the world of Turo—I always have. He went from being a mute, frightened orphan to the force he is today with your help, and I’ve never doubted that he cares deeply for you. If things were different, I think he would make you a fine husband.

“But, Cam.” Gilraen shakes her head. “Our fates have never been our own to decide. Our father, and we, must always put Zephyth first. One of our greatest powers is our ability to secure peace when war threatens, and that’s what Father is doing with you and Prince Eleas.”

“I still know nothing of him,” I say with a pout.

“Then ask his honor guard about him,” my sister suggests.

“He didn’t come to get me himself.”

“He is a prince with his own responsibilities,” Gilraen replies. “Not the least of which is ensuring that Huridell is prepared for the whirlwind that is you.”

“He might be as ugly as the backside of a whelver for all I know.”

Gilraen chuckles a little. “He might be, I suppose. There isn’t even a court portrait of him to make a copy of, and believe me, I’ve tried. Ask his honor guard. But I’ve heard descriptions of the prince from diplomats traveling through Zephyth before, and all of them have been complimentary. I think you’ve managed to catch a handsome husband.”

I sigh. “What if we can’t get along?”

“Then you will find a way to overcome your disagreements,” my sister says, her voice growing fierce. “You will show him every one of your best qualities over and over, you will prove to him how deserving you are of every good thing on this earth, and you will gain his approval in time. If you don’t, then tell me that he’s defective and I’ll come to Huridell myself to set him straight.”

She pauses, then says, “You know that Loran wasn’t my first betrothed, don’t you? You were young at the time, only ten, but—”

“I remember the first ceremony,” I say. “You were meant to marry someone else, weren’t you?”

“Jasten,” she agrees. “The love of my youth. He was the eldest son of the Toryths, one of our richest merchant families. He had no standing outside this city, but great standing within it. I adored him from the first moment I met him, and he seemed to like me well enough. I attached myself to him fiercely, and it didn’t take long to talk Father around to betrothing us. If it had gone through, I would have been married at sixteen.”

Which was quite young for a royal. And… “He disappeared, didn’t he? On a trip to Antasa.”

Gilraen sighs. “He did. The day after they arrived there, a fire broke out in the marketplace. It was pandemonium, and when things were finally under control, Jasten was gone. His family couldn’t find him, and not even Doric was able to give me a firm answer on what had become of him. Perhaps he was kidnapped, perhaps he was killed. Perhaps he even ran away, but I don’t think he would have done that to me.

“I felt broken for a long time after that. I decided I would never marry, and that felt right to me. When Father told me he’d arranged for me to be wed to one of Ophiucas’s priests, I wasfurious.” Gilraen picks up a lock of her hair and winds it tight around a finger. “I went to his rooms and raged at him, told him my heart was dead and would never belong to another person.”

“What did he say?” I ask, nervous and intrigued.

Gilraen meets my eyes. “He said that the question wasn’t whether or not I was getting married, because that was going to happen regardless. The real question was whether I was going to make a contented life with my husband, or if I intended to punish my spouse as well as myself for the past. He said that the heart might not choose who to love, but the head can choose to work toward happiness.” She shrugs. “And he was right, Cam.”

“But it isn’t the same for me,” I protest. “Turo is still alive, and I’m being sent away to get married to someone else!”

“But Turoisstill alive,” my sister points out. “And where there’s life, there’s hope. Things may turn out far better than you think they will if you let yourself believe in the possibility.” She squeezes my hand once more, then stands up. “I’ll fill the bath for you. In the morning, we’ll go to Ophiucas first thing and pray for a marriage blessing. Perhaps our god will give you better insight into your future.”

“Perhaps.” I’m not optimistic about it, and yet I’m no longer despairing, either. I might be happy again someday.

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