🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 33
As she rose from her seat, she said coldly,
“There’s hot water in the kitchen. Wash up. You can’t get married looking like that.”
“No, I’ll go into the village. My men must have secured lodgings there.”
“Suit yourself.”
Crrrk. He stood up as well.
“But are we really holding the wedding today?”
“Yes. I want your protection as soon as I can get it.”
“Understood. I’ll get ready and come for you. By the way, Emblin—”
Emblin, walking briskly, turned back to look at him.
“What sort of treatment do you want from me?”
As if she had been waiting for that question, Emblin spoke at once.
“Like Idella. Protect me the way you protected her.”
“Very well.”
“At the wedding, swear it to me before God.”
“A vow?”
“Yes. You abandoned your place as heir, so I need something that gives me confidence.”
Emblin cocked her head and asked with a biting edge,
“Or are you planning to lie even before God?”
Tris answered quickly.
“No. In fact, it was strange how little you demanded. This is a transaction, after all.”
“You have to demand something someone can keep, or the deal won’t last.”
Huh. Before he knew it, the corners of his lips had lifted. Never in his life had he heard anyone speak like this. Arrogant—but precise. And for some reason, not the least bit unpleasant.
Studying his face, Emblin asked again,
“So will you make the vow?”
She seemed the sort who needed firm answers to breathe. Tris replied cleanly,
“I will.”
“Good.”
She swept up the stairs on a gust of air and vanished. Left alone, Tris scratched his head. Really now. Like Idella? As if that had been so grand. In the end, he’d sent her off to an old man.
But on second thought, Emblin’s request fit perfectly. A wife who would not fulfill a wife’s duties; a wife who wanted only protection.
Tris muttered to himself,
“One little sister is more than enough…”
He strode across the hall, pushed open the door, and stepped out. The day he gained a wife who wished to be a sister, sunlight rained down dazzlingly.
The moment Tris stepped inside, Peta rushed over.
“How did it go? Did you meet the princess?”
The inn Peta had found was relatively clean. Tris loosened his sword belt as he answered.
“I did. We’re having the wedding.”
“Already? You just arrived!”
“Yeah. A little later and she might have been taken.”
“That wandering knight bastard?”
“So you saw him.”
Tris stripped off his shirt to wash. Peta took it and chattered on.
“Of course I saw him. Picked a fight with Shawn and took a hit from me.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No. Turns out Shawn’s stronger than he looks.”
“Good.”
He drew water into a basin and began washing. Even cold water felt precious after so long on the road. Just having a roof over his head was luxury. He scrubbed the dirt from his face, trimmed his shaggy beard and hair, and put on clean clothes from his pack. Ready.
Peta muttered,
“I can’t believe this. A duke’s heir getting married like this.”
“What’s wrong with it? We’re gaining a foothold. It’s good fortune.”
“Don’t say that. I know your pride, and it’s not ordinary.”
Tris’s eyes flashed like steel.
“I said it’s fine. And Emblin’s easier to deal with than I expected.”
Peta sighed—deep, defeated. Now he was defending that hollow-shelled princess with nothing left but arrogance. Why had he left the estate and thrown himself into this misery?
Then Tris said suddenly, voice cold,
“If you’re going to make that face in front of my wife, then stay away. I won’t have it.”
“Tris.”
“She’s my wife by my choice. If you insult her, I’ll take it as an insult to me.”
He wasn’t joking. The chill in his eyes made that clear.
“All right. I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better.”
Tris walked out without looking back.
“See you at the church.”
He was gone.
“This is insane. The lord will want to murder me.”
He could already imagine the fury—Why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you persuade him?
Peta twisted his lips and muttered,
“If even the lord can’t stop him, how am I supposed to?”
What truly worried him wasn’t the lord’s scolding—it was if Emblin went mad like Merril. Then Tris would be pitiable beyond measure.
“No choice. I’ll stick with him and stay sane for both of us.”
Creak. The door next room cracked open. Ron and Shawn peeked out.
“Has he gone?”
“Yeah.”
“What do we do now?”
“Attend the wedding.”
“For real?”
Ron’s eyes went round.
“You think the duke won’t break our legs when he hears?”
“We can’t stop Tris. So we protect him.”
Ron and Shawn straightened, deadly serious.
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes.”
Peta snorted faintly.
“He said church, so let’s get ready.”
“Yes.”
When they ducked back inside, Peta went to the innkeeper.
“I need a messenger. Pay will be generous.”
“Yes, sir.”
He’d send a letter to the Aike estate—inform them Tris was marrying Emblin. He could almost see the duke’s face collapse in disappointment. They had placed such hope in Tris.
Heading back to his room, Peta muttered,
“He never does anything by halves.”
His sigh nearly cracked the floor.
Abbot Jacob blinked. He had been clearing snow from the garden when guests arrived—and not ordinary ones. Emblin of Wintergarden herself stood there, draped in a black fur cape, expression haughty.
He asked carefully,
“So—you wish to hold a wedding ceremony?”
“Yes.”
Short, clipped.
Jacob turned to the man beside her. They had stormed in and demanded a marriage rite—what was going on? A threat? But long habit held him back; he asked nothing. He only prayed it wasn’t that.
Tris finally spoke, bluntly.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, nothing like that…”
Tris assumed the abbot merely wasn’t used to a woman taking the lead. Jacob’s gaze seemed to hover on Tris, waiting for his word. Emblin noticed too. He wasn’t even looking at her. Ignoring her. Of course—everyone wanted Merril, not her.
Emblin said again, with force,
“We need the mass. Right now.”
Tris added curtly,
“Do as the princess commands.”
“Very well. Please come inside while I prepare.”
When the flustered abbot hurried away, Emblin muttered,
“Hmph. Doesn’t even pretend to listen.”
“Not used to taking orders from a woman.”
“Obviously.”
Tris looked down at her. Under the sunlight, her brown hair shimmered in shifting colors. A whole head shorter than he—yet still tall. He would not get neck cramps speaking to her.
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
She denied it instantly. Tris snorted, teasing,
“You seem angry.”
“I’m not.”
“For the record, I’m good at reading faces. And I’d like for us to get along.”
“No need. We’ll marry, get what we want, and that will be that.”
She was all frost—no space for even a needle.
“Did you find a good place to stay?”
“Good enough.”
“Pick somewhere you’ll stay long.”
“So you’re not letting me into Wintergarden.”
Emblin barked a dry laugh.
“Of course not.”
“Then how am I supposed to tell you how I’ll manage the village?”
“Why would I need to know that?”
Her voice was like a brittle twig—sharp, dry, uninterested in anything.
“So you weren’t planning to know?”
Emblin sighed softly.
“Tris, as long as I’m safe, that’s enough. I don’t care about anything else.”
Closed-off, passive, all bristles like a hedgehog.
A sudden wind roared. “Oh!” Emblin staggered as the gust wrapped around her; Tris caught her quickly.
Her face twisted, and he let go as if excusing himself.
“You’re the one who asked to be protected like a sister.”
She said nothing—too startled. Even that little touch rattled her. She had to hide it. Show weakness, and Tris would look down on her.
“No?”
She shot a glare without meaning to. This man kept demanding answers. She answered grudgingly,
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
