2. A Marriage Sentence

He didn’t spare anyone a glance. Just started speaking.

"Rylan," he said, without looking up from the parchment, "the tariffs on the eastern grain merchants...did you get the new figures from Daemir?"

"Yes, this morning," Rylan replied, already sliding a sealed envelope across the table. "They’re higher than last quarter. They’re getting bold."

"They won’t stay bold if we pull half their ships for inspection," Father muttered, then made a small note with his quill. "Send a message to Councilor Vane. Make it sound diplomatic, but make sure the threat bleeds through."

Rylan nodded once. Efficient. Precise. Like this was just another morning ritual.

The rest of the table was silent. Of course it was.

No one interrupted when Father spoke business, not the mistresses, not Mother, definitely not children. They just sat there like expensive furniture. That’s how it always was. The conversations they had were flowers, festivals, what dress would suit the next party and they were not meant to disrupt the "real" matters.

I focused on eating. Quietly. My knife and fork moved slowly. If I pretended hard enough, maybe I could fade into the background.

But then, just as I started to chew the first bite of food I could actually swallow, his voice cut through the air again.

"Cessalie."

I froze.

The meat stuck to the back of my throat like it had turned to sand. I swallowed hard and slowly raised my head. His eyes were already on me, the kind of stare that didn’t ask, didn’t suggest. It just expected.

"Yes, Father?" My voice came out calm, but my fingers curled tighter around the fork.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me, long enough for the tension to crawl up my spine and sit on my shoulders.

"You’ve turned nineteen."

There was no warmth in it. Just a fact. Like announcing a crop yield. Like I was part of the inventory.

I didn’t respond. I knew better.

He set the parchment down finally and leaned back slightly, fingers steepled.

"I was beginning to think no man would be willing to take you."

There it was.

No one at the table so much as blinked. Not even Mother. She just kept her eyes fixed on her plate like she didn't hear a thing.

"You’ve been difficult," he continued, as if he were discussing an animal he was trying to sell. "Disobedient. Unpredictable. But—"

He paused, almost like the next part was hard to process for him.

"There is one."

My jaw tightened. I didn’t say a word.

"A proposal has been made," he said. "He’s from the northern duchy. Davian Aurelthorn of Alderwyn."

I blinked. Once.

"He wants to marry you."

Wants? That word didn’t sit right. Nobody "wanted" me unless they wanted something from me.

"He’s noble. Wealthy. More importantly, he’s willing."

He said it like it was a miracle. Like I should fall on my knees with gratitude that someone out there was willing to deal with me.

I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. But inside, my ribs felt like they were turning inwards, closing in on themselves.

And across the table, Meliora’s smile was practically glowing.

I didn’t nod. I didn’t even blink this time.

Instead, I set the fork down on the edge of my plate and looked him straight in the eye.

"Meliora is twenty-two."

That shut the table up.

Everyone went still. Even Anwen stopped swirling her wine.

"She’s beautiful. She’s obedient. She’s exactly what a man like Davian Aurelthorn would want, isn’t she?" I asked, voice calm. Too calm. "She’s everything I’m not, right? So why not send her?"

Meliora’s chair scraped sharply against the floor as she sat up straighter. "I don’t want to marry him."

I turned my head slowly to her, lips curling. "And you think I do?"

"You shouldn’t dare speak to Father like that," she hissed across the table, that carefully constructed poise cracking at the seams. "He’s doing what’s best for you, for all of us."

I tilted my head. "He’s selling me off like cattle. At least be honest about it."

"You ungrateful—!" Meliora started, but—

That’s when he moved.

Rylan.

The sound of his chair dragging back cut through the room like a blade. He stood up slowly, his towering frame shadowing over the table. His hands were braced on the surface, and his jade-green eyes pinned me like I was something feral that needed taming.

My body reacted before my brain did. I flinched.

I never flinch. But around Rylan, I never feel in control of my spine.

His voice was low, dangerous, almost a growl. "You will not cause a scene at this table."

His gaze didn’t shift from me, not once.

Everyone else went dead silent.

I swallowed, fingers curling, but I didn’t lower my head.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms so hard they left crescents in my skin.

"I will not marry him," I said again, louder this time.

Father exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his fork down with an audible clink. He was losing patience.

"You have Meliora. She's older, she's charming, she's everything a perfect wife should be. Why me? Why force me into this when you already have the perfect daughter?"

Meliora scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. "Perfect daughter? You really think you know anything about this family?"

I ignored her. I kept my eyes on him. My father. The man who decided my fate with the same ease he decided what wine to drink with dinner.

"You are not useful to me, Cessalie," he finally said, voice calm, uncaring, unfazed. His brown eyes burned with authority. "You have no magic. No skills. You are best wedded off."

My breath caught in my throat.

Yes. Right.

Meliora and Rylan both had magic. They were valuable. They could shape the world around them with a flick of their fingers. And me?

I was nothing.

Nothing but a pawn to be placed where he saw fit.

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears, but I didn't back down. "That is not a reason to throw me away like I’m—like I’m worthless." My voice wavered slightly at the end, betraying me.

Father leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as if I were the burden he was forced to carry. "You are worthless, Cessalie."

The words hit me like a slap.

Meliora had a place in this family higher than even father’s own wife, because she was born right. With power. And I wasn’t.

That was the difference between us.

My chest tightened, the burn of anger crawling up my throat. I wanted to scream, to throw my goblet across the room, to do something reckless. But that would only prove his point, wouldn't it? That I was just an unruly daughter who needed to be put in her place.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "I am your legitimate daughter."

"And?" His stare was cold, cutting through me like a blade. "What use do I have for a legitimate daughter who cannot do anything?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He had already decided. In his eyes, I was nothing but wasted breath.

My nails dug deeper into my palms, and I gritted my teeth. "Then why not marry off Isla? She doesn’t have magic either."

"Because she is fourteen," he said. "Do you hear yourself? You sound desperate."

I was desperate. Desperate to get out of this, desperate to make him listen.

I shoved back from the table, standing up so fast the chair screeched against the floor. "You can't do this to me—"

Rylan moved. I flinched.

He pushed back his chair. I barely had time to react before he started walking. Not towards Father. Not towards Meliora.

Towards me.

My stomach twisted.

Rylan never wasted movement. He didn’t make a show of his anger. If he was standing, if he was walking towards someone, it meant only one thing.

Punishment.

My breath came faster, but I did not sit back down. I refused. Even as he circled the table, coming closer, even as my hands trembled slightly where they rested at my sides.

I held my ground.

But my body remembered. It always remembered.

The scar on my cheek tingled, phantom pain from a wound long healed.

Every step he took made it worse.

"You think I’m just going to smile and nod while you marry me off to some stranger like I’m livestock?" I snapped, voice sharp, the kind that made silence crawl up everyone’s spine. My hands were shaking now, but I didn’t care. "At least pretend like I matter, Rylan. You’re always playing the heir, the perfect son, but you don’t get to decide what I do with my life—"

"You’re being reckless," he said coldly, still walking, closing the space between us slowly like a predator. "As always."

"I’m being honest," I shot back. "You all sit here acting like loyalty is earned with obedience. Maybe you like being father’s puppet, but I won’t."

He stopped right in front of me, towering. His height cast a shadow over me, and I hated that it made me step back.

"You should watch your mouth, Cessalie," he said, voice low. Not angry. Worse, controlled. "You think throwing tantrums in front of father makes you brave?"

"I think speaking up for myself makes me human," I spat. "But maybe you forgot what that feels like. Being father’s lapdog must’ve rotted it out of you."

There was a flicker in his eyes. Just a flicker. But I saw it.

I went too far.

"You’re out of control," he said, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. "And until you learn how to behave like a Draevin, you don’t deserve a seat at this table."

He looked to Father. "She should be locked in her chambers until she’s ready to give her answer. A proper one."

"You don’t get to decide that—" I started, but Father raised a hand.

"I agree," he said, not even looking at me. "It’s time she learned discipline."

Meliora smiled. I wanted to claw that smug expression off her face.

"I’m not a prisoner," I barked.

"You are what I say you are," Father replied without emotion. "Until you remember your place, you will remain behind locked doors. No visitors. No exceptions."

"You can’t—" My voice cracked.

"I already have."

And just like that, it was done. Decided. Like I didn’t exist. Like my voice meant nothing in a room full of power I could never match.

I was still standing, shoulders shaking, heart in my throat. But no one looked at me anymore. I was invisible.

One of the guards at the door stepped forward.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. My pride wouldn’t let me cry, not in front of them. Not in front of him.

But inside, I was already screaming.

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