Page 6 of A Thieving Curse

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MOTHER STOOD RIGID in the center of her lavish drawing room with her brown eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her rose-colored dress. The tight coils of her blonde braids made her look more severe. “Is your marriage a joke to you?”

“Mother?” Raelyn’s face flushed. A plush crimson chaise to her right beckoned to her, but she couldn’t sit while the queen stood.

“Abandoning your lessons, locking your tutor in his study, running through the halls like a child? None of those things indicate you are taking your duty seriously.” Mother huffed.

Raelyn fought the urge to argue. Pierson had told her years ago that queens were rarely involved in matters of state in Rethalyon, making half her tutorials pointless. But last time Raelyn had tried to use that as an excuse to lessen her studies, she had been confined to her room for two days.

“Your birthday is in four days,” Mother continued. “That’s only four days to ensure you are prepared before we depart. This marriage is vital—”

“I know, Mother.” Raelyn worked to keep her tone respectful. “I’m ready.”

She wished people would stop telling her that the fate of Eynlae rested on her shoulders. She had accepted her responsibility, that wasn’t the problem. Sometimes, though, she would have liked morecongratulations, you’re getting married, you’ll make a beautiful bride, may you have lifelong bliss, and less about trade routes and peace and prosperity and the staggeringimportanceof fulfilling the treaty. The constant reminders made her feel her value extended only as far as her usefulness in uniting two kingdoms with a long, bloody history.

Mother loved her; she knew that. But when her parents spent more time talking about Raelyn’s role than Raelyn as a person, it was easy to wonder if they saw her as their daughter or a political piece. She pushed the painful notion away.

“Crown Prince Tristan and King Henry will expect a lady—aqueen.” Mother frowned, then schooled her expression. “Tutor Pierson gave me a disappointing account of today’s lesson.”

Raelyn stared at the floral rug to hide her annoyance. “I just needed a brief—”

“Even before Gareth’s interruption, you weren’t paying attention. Sufficient preparation is important for your own happiness, too.”

“Yes—”

“Furthermore, there are traditions we must observe before we leave, and disappearing with your brother is not one of them.” Mother turned and paced—never a good sign. “You should be spending your time in quiet solitude, contemplating your future role as a wife and—”

“I know!” Raelyn quickly bowed her head and tempered her voice before she earned another scolding. “I’ve been preparing since you told me six years ago. Even before that, you were preparing me in ways I didn’t realize.” She looked earnestly into Mother’s eyes. “I understand what this alliance means for our kingdoms. I’m ready.”

Mother’s countenance softened. “No one is ever as ready as they think they are for marriage.”

“Were you?” Raelyn rubbed her skirt between her fingers.

Mother’s lips quirked upward, and she shook her head. “No, not at all.”

“Well, then there’s hope for me yet.” Raelyn smiled. “I’m going to be fine.”

Mother regarded her for a moment. “Yes, you are. But to make sure, I’ve cancelled today’s dancing lesson. We will review all a queen’s duties, from the grace of the court to the mother of princes. And then we’ll review Rethalyon’s customs and noble families and follow that with an hour of contemplation on your future. Never let it be said I let my daughter marry without doing everything in my power to prepare her.”

Raelyn’s shoulders sagged. More mind-numbing studies weren’t how she wanted to spend her remaining days in her home.

“Stand up straight and hold your head high,” Mother said gently. “You’re a future queen and will represent Eynlae to all of Rethalyon.”

The fact her actions would affect how Eynlae’s long-time rival perceived her kingdom made her nervous. Gareth’s and Nathaniel’s only concerns were not doing anything too mortifying in front of the nobles. Her eldest brother, Crown Prince Frederick, would be king one day, but he was happily married and might only ever correspond with foreign rulers through messengers. Meanwhile, Raelyn had to worry whether she could offend her husband or his court enough to cause tension—or even war—between their kingdoms.

Maybe more studying wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Yes, Mother.”

The next morning Mother replaced Raelyn’s morning walk with yet another dress fitting. She insisted the wedding gown and veil be perfect and kept questioning every detail. Perhaps the gold embroidery and circlet were too ostentatious? Did the deep blue dress overpower the blue of her eyes? Did it properly fit her slim figure? The stunning gown had captivated Raelyn the first time she put it on, but by the third fitting in a week, she was ready to get married in a gray woolen shift.

The dress was the only wedding detail they had any control over, which Raelyn supposed explained Mother’s obsession. For her part, Raelyn had lost interest the moment she learned she’d be wed in Rethalyon in a Rethali ceremony. She knew the traditions from her studies, but her only responsibility was saying, “I do.”

After the fitting, a guard shadowed her to her lessons to prevent any more escapes. According to Nathaniel, Father had given Gareth a lecture and forbidden him from seeing her outside of meals until her birthday. Father might as well have buried a knife in Raelyn’s heart, and the guard’s silent lurking didn’t help her growing sense of loneliness. She was running out of time to prepare, yes, but she was running out of time with Gareth, too.

That night, she laid in her four-poster bed beneath the shadowy canopy, a jumble of conflicting emotions keeping her awake. Dreams of a happy marriage warred with fear she would disappoint Tristan. Eagerness to prove herself tangled with sorrow over leaving.

Something knocked against her door, drawing her out of her anxious thoughts. She sat up as a rasp of metal and a click sounded.The door creaked inward, and Gareth picked up a candle off the floor, his other arm holding something against his chest under his cloak.

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