It seemed like Movris’s intuition was as faulty as ever.
“There was nothing lovely about that.”
“To be honest, your appearance didn’t factor into the equation. It was your gumption and strength that were the deciding factors.”
“Am I being recruited as a wife or a soldier?”
“Ha-ha-ha! Well, perhaps he’s looking for both! You are a daughter of the prestigious Holland family, after all.”
Byletta grinned at her laughing father. “I understand now. Father, you must earnestly wish to be torn limb from limb tonight.”
“Just a moment! You look far too serious about that!”
“Why, of course I am. After all, as the daughter of a resolutely honest and straightforward man, I cannot abide by lies and jests,” Byletta said with a dry laugh.
The blood drained from her father’s face.
“It would give me no greater pleasure than to make that wish of yours come true.”
Byletta grabbed a bare sword from the wall and abruptly swung it down at her father, who immediately took hold of another decorative blade and responded in kind.
The sharp clanging of steel filled the sitting room.
“This is why nobody has proposed to you yet! You’ve been prattling on and on about your future business ventures ever since your time at school, but all you’ve ever managed to build for yourself are dishonorable rumors and contempt from members of high society. There are certain joys to be had as a woman. Aren’t you glad that this settles the matter quickly?”
“But I’ve always said that I wanted to go into trade! I have told you again and again that I do not wish to marry.”
“And I have told you that we cannot indulge your whims!”
As father and daughter crossed blades and words alike in the corner of the sitting room, Byletta’s mother slowly sipped the rest of her tea.
From that day forward, Byletta’s protests were ignored. The preparations for her wedding were set in motion—and before she knew it, two months had passed. The day of her nuptials was upon her.
No matter how she struggled, what threats she uttered, or how far she ran, what was done was done. Now all Byletta could do was resign herself to the worst. As she crammed herself into the extravagant horse-drawn carriage that Count Swangan had provided, it was already clear that the last recourse available to her would be to negotiate with her soon-to-be husband directly. Thus, as the carriage lurched to and fro, she sat silently in her wedding gown beside her father.
They arrived at a house in the center of the imperial capital. Mentally comparing its size and location to her own cozy home on the outskirts of the city, Byletta was stunned.
Attached to the enormous house was an expansive garden. It was hard to believe the estate before her eyes really belonged to the family she was supposed to marry into—something about it was enchanting. Its occupants were indeed descended from the nobility of the former empire. It was clear as day that the Swangans were on a completely different social stratum than her and her parents.
Byletta followed her father inside, where they were greeted by a servant who led them to the reception room in which Count Swangan was waiting.
The count looked to be around fifty years of age. His brown hair was beginning to show flecks of white, but he still had an impressive physique. His pale-blue eyes, however, seemed oddly glazed. Byletta immediately got the impression that there was something slightly off about him, but she didn’t have time to dwell much on it before her attention was caught by another.
By the count’s side sat a woman with very pale skin. Her hair was tied up, but she didn’t look very old. Byletta guessed that she was likely in her mid-thirties, but her face was tired and despondent. It was hard to imagine that a woman that young could have a twenty-five-year-old son, so Byletta surmised that she must be the count’s second wife. Byletta frowned. Not just because the woman looked so fragile, but because the scene itself stirred a sense of pity.
Byletta knew that her attention shouldn’t be on the other strangers in the room at present, but there was one slight problem: The man that she should have been focusing on wasn’t there. He wasn’t late because he was having trouble getting dressed, was he? She was beginning to feel keenly aware of just how much she stood out from the crowd.
But she didn’t have to wonder where her groom-to-be was for long.
“I’m afraid that my son departed for the front yesterday. It seems that the war effort is not going very well. Therefore, we should leave the matter of the wedding ceremony to be discussed upon his return. That does not mean you are not already my daughter on paper—it is just that accursed son of mine left immediately upon receiving his promotion.”
“Count Swangan, what is the meaning of this?”
“Had you not heard? My son was told that if he wed, he would be given a higher rank. He agreed without a second thought. All I was told was that once the bride arrived, she should be given leave to stay and to do as she sees fit.”
It seemed to be her father’s first time hearing of this. He’d been aware that her husband-to-be was to receive a promotion, but it was apparent that he had not been informed that said promotion rested on the man’s marriage to his daughter. He was just standing there, seemingly unable to respond.
Beside him, however, his daughter’s mind had already begun to reframe the situation. Even if her spouse was absent, could she still assume her role as his wife? If so, she could live in this home entirely without the constraints of some good-for-nothing husband. Nor would she have to deal with her family’s constant nagging to get married. It sounded perfect.
If her husband did happen to return from the battlefield, she could just make her escape. Luckily, it didn’t seem that the man had much interest in her, either, so she doubted he would object to a divorce. Besides, Byletta was more concerned with someone else: her mother-in-law, who had simply looked at the floor without saying a single word throughout the whole conversation.