The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley P. Beaulieu [53]
“We were told we were too heavy-handed.”
“That may be so, but consider this: at least you have the ability. Control can be learned. Raw ability cannot.”
“Forgive me, Matra”—she tried to keep the desperation from her tone— “but my mother told me I would not need to.”
“She should not have.”
“You assured her I would not be needed in this capacity.” She could hear her voice rising in volume.
“I told her that I expected you to be trained.”
“But—”
“Are you a member of this family or are you not?”
“The wedding has not—”
“Your father has signed documents. You are Khalakovan now whether you like it or not, and your family’s needs take precedence over your own. Or do they teach you different in the halls of Galostina?”
“I will fail, Matra.”
“You will try, and that is the end of it.”
Atiana bit her tongue. She was sure that Mother had inquired about the need to take the dark, knowing her innate fear of it, and she was just as sure Saphia had chosen her words carefully so Mother would come away with the answer she’d been seeking while Saphia would be able to claim later that there had been an unfortunate misunderstanding.
Misunderstanding or not, it didn’t change the fact that she was now bound to the Khalakovos. There was no backing away from this request. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps in time, once she had her feet under her.
“So I was chosen for marriage simply for my ability.”
Saphia smiled, an expression that looked truly evil on such a skeletal face. “Not only for that, child. You have other redeeming qualities.”
“Such as hips ready to bear children?”
Saphia laughed again, a thoroughly unpleasant sound. “And a father with shipping contracts to Yrstanla. Do you find any of these reasons distasteful?”
“The women of Vostroma are not accustomed to being treated like prized cattle.”
“But you are in a prized position, Atiana Radieva. There are dozens of women who would gladly take your place.”
She knew it was so. There were always duties expected of a young bride, some distasteful, some less so. “Of course, Matra. I’ll gladly help the family in any way I can.”
The silence in the room lengthened, broken only by the whuffle and snap of the fire. Saphia nodded, though even that small motion seemed taxing for her. “Good and good. You can tell your mother when next you speak with her.”
Victania closed the conversation shortly after, and Yvanna led Atiana away.
On the way out, she was amazed at how different the basin seemed. Before it had merely been an implement she would never need to use—not so different from needle and thread or a butter churn—but now it looked so much different, terrifying.
It was with a heavy heart that she left the room and took to the long flight of stairs. Moments later, the doors to the drowning chamber boomed shut behind her.
CHAPTER 14
The wind was bitter, and for the first time in years, Rehada truly felt it. She was trudging through the knee-deep snow behind Bersuq, Soroush’s older brother, along a game trail in the forest below Radiskoye. Despite working hard to climb the trail, despite the three robes she wore, her feet and hands were numb, and her teeth were chattering. Soroush had told her to release her spirit the night before, and so she had, but it felt strange to be without it. Everything felt different, as if she were walking in someone else’s body. Bersuq, who had pulled ahead of her, turned and barked, “Keep up.”
She had never felt a feeling of kinship toward Bersuq, even in the days of Ahya’s early childhood, but she didn’t begrudge him that. He was not unkind. He was simply hard.
She pushed herself as hard as she was able, and eventually the slope leveled off. Radiskoye could not be seen, but its presence could be felt. With the landing of the dukes commencing today, a dozen ships were patrolling the sky over the palotza and the mountain that housed it, Verodnaya.