Chapter Text
Talia sighed as she heard Keldar calling her, and trudged in, trying not to appear to be sulking. The last thing she needed or wanted was a beating.
But instead, what she heard was, “So, you are thirteen today.” Oh, just her birthing day. Just the annual lecture. “Yes, thirteen,” Keldar continued, “and normally time to think of marriage. But not for you.”
Talia eyed Keldar and the Underwives. “My Honored Father does not wish me to marry?” she asked. On the outside, she remained emotionless, completely unreadable. On the inside, she was cautiously happy, well aware that Father could very well have already promised her to the temple.
“He does, and has had many offers for your hand,” Keldar said. “However, the law of the land means that sometimes, a girl who is not highborn is chosen to marry and produce an heir for one of the nobles in Haven. Normally, they look only at older girls, around age sixteen. However, when looking for potential brides among our people, knowing we marry our girls at thirteen, they look at girls that age, so that you may be taken to Haven now and groomed for life outside the Holds.”
“This isn't something we can really prepare you for,” Isrel said, taking up the thread of the lecture. “You have been prepared to be a Holderkin Wife, and like you, none of us have been outside the Holds. That is why they sent us a guide. You will stay here another three years, Talia, and you will learn things that your future husband will value.”
Two other Wives brought in a chest. “This was brought for you,” Keldar said. “We have not yet opened it. You should. Let us see what is inside.”
Trembling only a little, Talia did as Keldar ordered.
On top of the chest’s contents was a list, telling each item and what it was for. The chest contained white silk and silk thread to make her wedding dress, a set of jewels meant to be worn on her wedding day, a ring to wear to tell the world she was claimed by a man who she would not meet and wed for three more years, and she slid it on, admiring the emerald on the gold band.
There was also brightly colored wool thread, cloth, an embroidery hoop, and instructions to practice her embroidery, as well as a request that she take up an instrument of her choice. “How am I to learn an instrument?” she asked.
“We will barter for one with the trader that comes through,” Keldar said.
“Talia, dear, we all know you must be nervous. This is very different from what any of us expected for you,” said Father's Mother, finally speaking. “The last time they chose a Holder girl was many, many years ago. They only choose girls who are good readers and have what it takes to be a First Wife. When you asked to learn to read, I suspected this might happen.”
“Do you remember the last girl they chose from Holder lands?” Talia asked.
“Oh, I do. It was my older sister. I was nine, and she was a lot like you,” Father's Mother said. “Two Heralds came and escorted Wurda the day after she turned sixteen.”
“Well, when the official from Haven came the other day,” Keldar said, “we assured him that you can already weave, sew, spin, clean, and cook. We told him also that I have taught you how to give orders, because I believed you have it in you, and that despite our lack of music, when you sing hymns during temple services, you do, in fact, have a lovely voice, that because of how recently we came over, you have a small amount of Karsite, and that you know and understand herbs and can use a still room.”
Talia wasn't sure, but did Keldar actually seem proud of her right now?
“We're all very proud,” Isrel said with a giggle. “This is a great honor for the Hold. Your Father said that the man you're to marry is from a cadet branch of the royal family, as in too closely related to the Queen to have married her. You may even meet her!”
“You were always a misfit,” Keldar said, “but now we know why. You are chosen by the God and Goddess to be our representative at Court.”
“Then please, fill me with more of your wisdom,” Talia said. “I don't want to let anyone down.” For the first time, there was nothing wrong with her. She was special.
***
The next three years passed rather pleasantly. Talia was excused from most chores. After all, she would be the lady of a manor, with servants to do all of the cooking and cleaning for her. Oh, she still did the chores that a lady would do. She spun and wove, but she did it with wool that had been dyed using expensive dyes sent by her betrothed, creating elaborate tapestries. The first one she completed, though imperfect, was hung in the main room of the house. It was just a simple sheep, but the Elders who visited Father praised it, and Keldar became the First Wife to go to for advice on raising littles, especially girl children.
Talia became better than anyone in the still room, and passed all of her learning on to her younger sisters who were old enough to learn. And Keldar got her a harp. It was beautifully carved, and Talia spent at least an hour a day learning to play.
And on her fifteenth birthday, she was even gifted a dance instructor, a young woman who also taught her etiquette and posture.
The best part of it all was that Justus was no longer allowed to torment her. Instead, he had quickly learned that a word from her would see him punished.
By the night before her sixteenth birthing day, she wondered, idly, what awaited her in Haven.
***
The next morning, Talia rose early. The Wives helped her to bathe and dress, and, after breakfast, Keldar helped her to pack, including carefully folding away her wedding dress. Keldar even wore the apron that Talia had embroidered flowers on to perfect her technique before doing the same embroidery on her wedding gown.
Keldar put a flower wreath in Talia's hair, the kind Holderkin brides all wore. It wasn't her wedding day. Not yet. But she was leaving her family for her future husband, something that both thrilled and terrified her. What would he be like? Was he old or young? Would he be kind, at least? Or cruel, like Holderkin men?
The sound of horses outside alerted them that the Heralds were likely there, and Talia was walked outside to meet them.
They had brought a mount for her, and a small cart, onto which Talia's trunk, which her dance and etiquette teacher, Aria, called a hope chest, was loaded into, along with Aria’s things.
It was only once they were well away from the Holds that Talia ventured to speak. “What is Haven like?”
“Big, smelly, and noisy if you're used to a farm. I’m Herald Dirk, by the way, and this is Herald Kris.”
“It's filled with life,” Kris said. “Dirk was raised on a farm, too, but I’m highborn.”
“Are you my betrothed?” Talia asked.
“No. Actually, it's my brother,” Kris said. “To tell the truth, we were all surprised to find his match in Holderkin territory. You must not fit in well amongst your people.”
“Not really,” Talia admitted.
“But I’ve made sure you’ll fit in just fine in Haven,” Aria said. “When Lord Stefan meets you, he is sure to be wowed by you.”
Talia suddenly spotted something. “Oh! A riderless Companion! Do you think his Herald is hurt?”
“He's on search,” Dirk explained. “He's going to Choose his new Herald. That's Rolan, and whoever he Chooses will be Queen’s Own.”
“What does that mean?” Talia asked.
“The Monarch’s Own Herald is the highest ranking Herald in the Circle,” Kris explained. “Talamir recently died. If Rolan is Choosing a youngster who isn't Chosen yet, then he or she will need to go through the Collegium.”
“I wanted to be a Herald,” Talia admitted. “I still want that. I don't want to be married.”
Rolan approached them, and got Talia's attention. Just like that, Kris and Dirk watched their first mission post internship fail, Stefan’s plans to marry go down the drain, and Talia got what she really wanted, a dreamy look on her face.