Page 13 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor's Destiny
Thomas ran his hand through his hair and didn't look happy. "She is enchanting, isn't she?"
"Damn right she is," Henry nodded. "And beautiful to boot."
Thomas shook his head, "She is that. But how can I sire heirs with a nobody like her, Henry? How can I allow my sons' blood to be diluted by a pleb like her? My ancestors will curse me."
Henry raised his glass and drank deeply, "I feel for you champ, I truly do. A woman like her would make a wonderful mistress..." he blew out some air, shaking his head.
"Unfortunately, not a wife," Thomas agreed. "Not to mention, what kind of example would I be setting, allowingany upstart to think they could buy their way into our class?" Thomas drained his glass. "No, I already made arrangements with St. George's Fields. A few months after we are wed, I will have her moved there, and in a year or two, our marriage annulled. It has to be that way."
Henry emptied his glass, and all color drained from my face at hearing my fate. St. George's Fields was a place for the mentally deranged. It was located in Southwark. I had been there once because Abigail, my best friend, had begged me to accompany her. She went to see her brother, who was confined there after having lost his mind after Waterloo. I didn't think I would ever forget the screams of the people inside. Or the smells. And Thomas wanted to put me there?
Small tremors raked my body from suppressed fury and fear as I slowly walked backward, making sure nobody noticed me. This wasn't good. I needed a plan. I doubted my father would give my fate a second thought. Even if I confided in him, he would still force me to go through with the marriage. It would change his plans to some degree, but in the end, he would still have a son-in-law who was an earl, no matter if I was in a mental hospital or not. Even annulling our marriage wouldn't affect my father that much. He would still use the Earl's name to attract customers. Not the way he had envisioned, but enough for his greedy mind to go through with it.
I was such a fool. For a moment or two tonight, I thought Thomas and I could make this work. That we could be... a real married couple. I would not make that mistake again.
Holding my head up high, I walked back to the table, making plenty of noise so that the two men stopped their conversation and rose when they saw me approach.
"Is everything alright, Roweena?" Thomas inquired.
"I feel a little faint," I admitted, supported by what I was sure was my white as snow pallor, and it wasn’t even a lie. "MaybeI had a little too much champagne." I tried to laugh it off, but failed. My nerves were rattled, and I had never tried my hand at acting before. I was sure I was doing a poor job.
Or not, because my act was convincing enough for Thomas to take me home at once.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your evening," I apologized in the carriage.
"No worries, it was getting late anyway. For what it's worth, I had a very nice evening with you."
"So did I," I smiled at him, glad that my acting skills were improving. Now I just needed to figure out if I had a skill for intrigue, because if I didn't want to end up at St. George's Fields, I needed a good plan, quickly.
My chariot gleamed in the sunlight, just like the two black stallions tethered to it. The horse's coats had been oiled, their manes and tails brushed. Gold adorned their gear, rare gemstones blazed under the rays of the rising sun.
It was a gift from High Priest Raahet. As much as I disliked showpieces like this, I understood that they had their purpose on occasion, and this was one of them. The people expected a big show of power and splendor, and they would get it. This was a day of triumph, a day in which the hungry would be fed. It would be like in the days of my grandmother, when every person in the empire was happy.
A day where I would swallow my misgivings and do my part to bring light into the dreariness of our people’s accepted norm. They might have forgotten how it used to be, but I hadn’t. Despite my not having been there during the better times, my grandmother had been. She had filled the head of a young boy with stories of a time when Orasis had been a paradise. On her deathbed, I swore that I would make it so again. My proclamation had been met with laughter, punctuated by fits of coughing. How would a ten-year-old street urchin with protruding ribs make a difference? She nearly choked. She had died laughing, thanking me for the gift. I had never heard her laugh before, and I solemnly vowed then and there that I would make every single person in Orasis laugh with joy one day.
And here I was. Cleaned, dressed, and adorned with gems and oils just like my horses—the irony wasn't lost on me. High Priest Raahet would do anything to turn me into a showpiece.
"Looking good, commander," Tavrek called, saluting me mockingly. Others fell into chuckles.
"Have some respect," I called back, grinning broadly to make it clear their antics didn’t bother me.
"So bright..." Ashvar, another of my lieutenants, held up his hand to shield his eyes sarcastically. "Can't see... our mighty High Warlord of Orasis, where could he be? Oh, there. I thought you were the sun."
More snickers erupted, but before I could reply, they fell silent. Their expressions turned from merriment to astonishment as they fell down on one knee. For a moment, I thought they were still playing a trick on me, but then I felt it. Her presence.
I turned.
She was even more beautiful than last night, if that was possible. She wore a white dress, embroidered with gold. This dress wasn't see-through like the one from last night. I sent a quick prayer of thanks to her for that, because starting the day with blinding all my soldiers because they inadvertently looked upon her full glory was the last thing I wanted to do.
A golden crown inset with gleaming gems held back her long, wavy black hair. She was a vision to behold.
Instantly, I too fell to one knee, bowing my head. "Lady Vaelora."
Her eyes bore into me and me alone. She held out her hand to raise me, "High Warlord Vardor of Orasis. This day is in your honor. Allow me to honor you."
Together we walked to the chariot, and I helped her up onto it before taking the place beside her. Pride swelled my chest at her presence. No man had ever been elevated by a goddesshigher than she was elevating me. I didn't know what I had done to deserve that, but I fully intended to absorb every last minute of it.
From deep within the folds of her dress, she brought out a crown similar to hers and placed it on top of my head. An astonished cry moved through the assembled ranks of my thousands of warriors as they witnessed this moment. Only gods and kings wore crowns. Our king was Maldrin, chosen by the gods, and our gods were Maezharr, Xyphor, and Draeven. Vaelora may have been a goddess, but her powers weren't as strong as those of her brothers. I wasn't sure what her intentions were, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being used as a pawn in a game much greater than I could have possibly imagined. Not that I minded. I enjoyed games, especially the war kind of games.
