From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [27]
Vrell shivered. “This is amazing, Gypsum. When did you do this?”
Still absorbed in her latest masterpiece, Gypsum pulled the thread with an easy rhythm. “When you were gone. Mother told us much of what you relayed. Your journey spoke to me, so I made that.”
I made that. As if the girl merely whipped the piece out in an afternoon, which, for all Vrell knew, she had.
“Do you want something, dear sister?” Gypsum asked.
“Just your chatty company.”
Gypsum rewarded Vrell with a fake smile. “Do not mock my silence when I am concentrating. Besides, Mother says men prefer silent ladies.”
Vrell blew a wry laugh out her nose. “I do not doubt that most do.”
“If you have no news to lighten my mood, go away.”
Not this again. “I am sorry your mood is sour, but you are too young to understand. I cannot do what I feel is wrong.”
Gypsum’s hands stilled and she looked up. “You feel the truth is wrong?”
“Not the truth part. The other part.”
“You can do both, Averella. You simply refuse. And who is to pay for your disobedience to Arman and to Mother? I am. For I will do my duty, even if I have to marry this prince of yours.”
“He is not my prince.”
Gypsum rolled her eyes and continued stitching. “You mope about the castle, scuttling within the walls like a spider. I do not have to be as old and wise as you to see that he owns your heart.”
Vrell crossed the room, toward the tapestry of the kittens that hid the secret entrance. She did not need yet another lecture, especially from her little sister—half-sister, though Vrell had not shared that secret with anyone. Maybe she should. Maybe then Gypsum would understand.
She turned back to spill the truth, but Gypsum’s tear-filled eyes pleaded. “Normally I would be ecstatic about marrying a prince, especially the real Prince Gidon Hadar. Imagine it! He is handsome and kind, good-mannered. And he is only four years my senior, which is nothing compared to what most girls suffer in marriage. After what happened to Tara, how could I refuse such a match?”
Vrell lifted the kitten tapestry aside. “It appears that you cannot. Congratulations.”
“Vrella, please do not force me to marry him.”
Vrell set her jaw. “I will not force you to marry anyone. Nor will Mother.”
“No, but she will lose honor if the agreement is not fulfilled. I will not put her in that situation.”
Vrell dropped the curtain and folded her arms. “It has been said that some make an idol out of obedience. Such perfect standards cannot bring you joy at all times. I suspect that even you sometimes rebel in your heart.”
Gypsum’s wide-eyed glare was all innocence. “I am simply doing what Arman asks of me.”
“Is that so? And have you consulted the Book of Life? I recall this printed in its pages: ‘Anyone who loves his father or mother more than Arman is not worthy of Arman.’”
Gypsum straightened. “‘Children, obey your parents in Arman, for this is right.’”
“‘Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but Arman disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness.’”
“‘In the same way be submissive to those older than—’”
“‘Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?’”
A stream of tears ran down Gypsum’s cheek. “Please, Vrella. I do not want to marry the man you love.”
“Then refuse. But until I see his heart set on Arman and not on a whim or on any pretty face that walks by, I will not give him my heart.”
“Rubbish.” Gypsum withdrew a handkerchief from the thread basket under her embroidery frame and dabbed her eyes. “You already have.”
“Maybe partly…” Vrell blinked away her own tears. “But not all of it. Which is why I cannot confess now. He would forgive me, then be sweet and charming and steal more of my heart no matter how I tried to keep it from him. And then he would