“Beryl,” she says.
Although I am tasked with hearing complaints and offering solutions, this is a tricky situation. Marriages are usually arranged by parents, and it would be difficult to convince Beryl’s father to change his mind. I need to find a way to help her without going against the customs and traditions of their society.
I ask Beryl to sit down and take a deep breath. “I understand your dilemma, and I will do everything in my power to help you. But before that, can you tell me a little more about your father and his reasons for betrothing you to this man?”
The young woman wipes at her tears. “My father is a wealthy merchant, and he wants to secure a business deal with the man’s family. My father doesn’t care about my well-being. He only cares about his profit.”
“I see. Well, we must find a way to make your father see reason. Perhaps we can negotiate with him and offer him an alternative business deal that doesn’t involve your marriage.”
Hope stirs in Beryl’s eyes. “Do you think that’s possible, my lady?”
“I do,” I say. “But we must be careful. We do not want to offend your father or the man he wishes you to marry. It is important that we approach this diplomatically.”
Beryl nods eagerly. “I understand, my lady. Whatever it takes to avoid this marriage.”
After Beryl leaves, I pluck up my wine and take a quick drink. The idea of a woman being forced into a marriage against her will is an abhorrent practice. The thought of her being married off to a man who is twice her age and abusive makes my blood boil.
Wrenley studies me for several moments before speaking. “Even if you persuade Beryl’s father, he’ll simply marry her off to the next man. You aren’t saving her. You are delaying the inevitable.”
Threads of sadness wrap around my chest. “So, you think I should just allow her father to marry her off?”
“I’m not saying that.” Her lips pull tight, and her eyebrows knit together. “But you need to understand you cannot rescue every girl from an unwanted marriage.”
Unfortunately, I understand far more than she knows. I saw it enough among the Kyanites. They are no different in how they view women and marriage.
As the day continues, women enter and share their complaints with me. One woman, however, stands out among the others. The bruises marring her face and arms twist at my gut, making me want to lurch from my chair and avenge her.
She explains she was forced into a marriage with a man twice her age, just as Beryl would have been. But Lila’s story is different. She has escaped from her husband and is now on the run.
“Please, my lady,” Lila begs, her voice rising with her panic. “Help me. I cannot go back to him. He will kill me.”
Compassion threads through my heart as I glance at Wrenley, whose eyes are riveted on Lila.
“You will stay here.” This woman cannot go back to her abuser.
“Yes,” Wrenley says, interjecting for the first time. “You will stay here in this palace.”
“Oh, thank Olah.” Lila raises her eyes to the ceiling and whispers more prayers to Olah.
Wrenley instructs a servant to take Lila to the healing quarters. As the door shuts behind the woman, I sink back against my chair and exhale.
“It’s a lot to take in, but we can help those women,” Wrenley says.
I nod, agreeing with her.
The hem of Wrenley’s cotehardie swishes against her legs as she rises to her feet and lifts her hand to her head, straightening her coronet.
“Are you royalty?” I ask impulsively.
Her hand pauses against the silver coronet before dropping to her side. “My father is chieftain of the Hematites.”
He is?
My brow rises. “And he allowed you to wed a Bloodstone man?”
“Allow?” She shakes her head. “Kheldar kept that part hidden from my father.”
How sneaky.
