You Are Mine (4 page)

A few warlocks, mostly those with
purple bands, have a gun strapped to their waist. Those with red
bands have dark skin and hair, the likes of which I've never seen
before. But it's not nearly as surprising as what some of the women
from other countries do.

They prance around with no warlock
nearby. Not a single man within twenty paces of them! That makes
them stand out more than their excessive height, though in truth
there aren't more than a dozen. A few of the others, with a white
band around their arm, wear shockingly bright colored dresses. A
few of the other brazen women walking about wear colors from other
countries besides white, but none wear orange. None of these
unaccompanied women have marriage or engagement tattoos on their
necks. Are they all single or do they not mark themselves as we do?
I sigh and slouch in my chair.

“
Sit up straight,” Father
says.

I frown, but resume a more dignified
posture and brush the wrinkles from my deep violet gown. Thomas
enters the box for the first time since showing it to us. He wears
simple black breeches and shirt, with the orange band tied around
his right arm, dressed as the other participants from Chardonia.
His gaze lingers on me as he walks toward Father. An older
gentleman wearing tan robes follows him. White hair brushed back
from his forehead in waves contrasts with his dark mustache and
short beard. A skinny young man, also in dueling clothes, finishes
the group.

“
Councilman Stephen, I
trust the box is to your liking,” Thomas says.

“
Very much so, thank you.”
Father pushes to his feet. “We're grateful to be privileged enough
to be next to your box, Grand Chancellor.”

The older gentleman nods his head. The
Grand Chancellor stands but a few feet from me. My stomach twits. I
continue to hold my rigid posture as he speaks. “Pleased to see you
here, Stephen. You remember my son, Nathaniel.”

“
I do. Are you trying to
get on the council, Nathaniel?”

The young man, whom Father was so
disappointed already choose a bride, looks to the Grand Chancellor
who says, “Remember I won't have any political talk during the
break.”

“
Of course not, Your
Grace.”

Thomas motions toward me. “And this is
my future wife.” I wonder if it would have been worse if I was
Nathaniel's right now instead of his. From the stern expression on
the Grand Chancellor's face, probably much, much worse. Thomas
continues the introduction, “Councilman Stephen's eldest daughter,
Serena, and her sister.”

I keep my eyes down and smile fixed
like I'm supposed to. Always submissive and pleased with them on
the outward, but inwardly wishing they weren't here. Yet, I feel
their scrutiny as much as if I looked them in the eye so I'm
careful to keep the proper pose. We practiced in class, but having
it happen under a real setting, and by the Grand Chancellor, makes
it harder not to squirm. Next to me, I can only make out the dark
brown of Cynthia's dress.

“
Indeed. She's lovely.
Heard rumors her blood was good quality.”

News of my magic is spreading that
much? I should be flattered, instead I feel contaminated somehow.
If I'm already bought by another, why does it even
matter?

“
It's true,” Father
confirms.

The Grand Chancellor says, “I wish
we'd passed the multi-wives law sooner.”

“
For yourself or your
son?” Thomas questions.

The warlocks laugh. I cinch my fingers
together.

“
What do you think,
Nathaniel?” the Grand Chancellor asks.

“
Marlene is a good choice
for me,” a younger voice replies.

“
He's quite taken with his
intended,” the Grand Chancellor says, “but if he hadn't already
retained her, whichever of us could persuade you for your daughter
would have been the one to claim her.”

The men laugh harder. My face burns.
Soon they'll be discussing Cynthia like this. The thought shifts
the heat from my face to my core. I clench my teeth together and
lift my gaze to meet the Grand Chancellor's. The laughter dies
off.

“
Do you have something to
say, my dear?” He returns the stare.

I bite my lip before blurting out,
“Perhaps if the law is passed it should include consulting the
first wife before taking another one on.”

This time the men howl with laughter,
except for the Grand Chancellor, who continues to stare at me. I
give a forced smile, but my words keep echoing through my head. The
laughter lessens. Father frowns.

“
It appears you'll have a
good source of amusement from your wife, Thomas.” The Grand
Chancellor finally breaks eye contact. “But as I said, no politics
this week. Get enough of that a few months out of the year, eh,
Stephen?”

Father's somber expression pulls into
a tight smile. “Too true.”

I look away. Blast my mouth! Cynthia's
hands are twisted together in her lap, mirroring my own. Why
couldn't I have claimed I had nothing to say? Or even better, kept
my eyes down. I don't know how bad the punishment will be for this,
but it won't be a simple fist flying just once at me. My only
chance is if Father waits to administer it. The games, if they go
well, may soften him some.

“
It was good to see you,
but I must get to my box.” The Grand Chancellor begins to move
toward the stairs. “I understand you'll be dueling against
Chancellor Jacob soon, Thomas.”

“
This afternoon, in fact.
My first duel of the tournament.”

“
Surprised he didn't send
a marriage contract for your future wife. His old one has been dead
four months now. Childbirth. Lost a good warlock babe in that
tragedy. Man needs to get himself a new wife. Shame to let such
power and lineage go to waste. His choice, though. Best of luck to
you against him. He's a powerful one.”

Once the Grand Chancellor and his son
are gone, Thomas kneels in front of me. When I don't look at him,
he yanks my chin until I'm forced to meet his eye. “If you ever
embarrass me like that again, I won't hesitate to tarnish you and
find myself a more suitable bride.”

He flings my chin away from him and
strides out of the box. I grip the sides of my chair trying to keep
myself from letting my fear show. Tarnished! Stripped of all my
humanity, never able to see my sisters again. The world seems to
tilt around me.

“
Cynthia,” Father says,
not looking away from me. “Take the servants and get refreshments.
Don't return until the curtains are up.”

My eyes dart to the tarnished
following orders with the other servants. Their dull heads, blank
looks, and black lines swirling on their faces make them all appear
the same. He could force me to become one of them.

Cynthia bounces to her feet, pulling
my fears from those less than shadows. “Yes, Father.”

No chance of him calming down first,
then. Cynthia hesitates in front of me, her forehead wrinkled and
lips pursed. I chance giving her a nod in front of Father, and with
a twirl of her skirt she and the servants are gone, the last of
their bald heads disappearing from view.

A sky-colored spell tinged with red
flashes from Father, leaving me no time to think on the tarnished
as the orange curtain lowers. Dread curdles my stomach. His fingers
pinch together. The only way I can tell the silencing spell is
coming is years of trying to pick out its clear wavering lines. It
hits, my throat locking. I grip the seat of my chair and wrap my
feet around the legs of it, steeling myself. With my gaze lowered,
I pick a smudge on the curtain to concentrate on.

“
You will not dishonor me
or your intended again.” He stalks toward me and yanks me back by
my hair bun. “You will do nothing.”

A crimson light launches from him,
heading straight for my leg. My body jerks with a mute scream as
the bone breaks. Tears prick my eyes. I silently beg for the spell
to push me into unconsciousness. His hand presses on the wound, the
pressure increasing as he speaks.

“
He has good lineage, is a
powerful warlock, is next in line for the council, and is friends
with the Grand Chancellor. He paid good money for you. You will not
disgrace him.”

The searing agony is so consuming, the
world blissfully starts to blacken. My head lolls, and I close my
eyes, welcoming the dark embrace.

“
Ah ah. You're not getting
out of punishment so easy.”

The world comes into unreal focus. The
pain intensifies. Minutes. Hours. Some time. Too much
time.

Finally the pain eases as his grip
lessens.

“
Will you disrespect me or
your intended again?” He shoots the silence spell at me again to
reverse its effects.

It takes me a moment to realize what
he's saying and even longer to slur a response. “No,
Father.”

“
Good.”

His weight lifts from the wound. I
crumple against the chair.

“
I'll fix you, but know
that it's for Thomas.”

I try not to let my relief show as he
heals my leg, but I surely fail. The pain fades until it's a dull
ache. Apparently, he's not healing it all the way. He casts a honey
colored spell over me. The light dances in front of my vision. The
world takes on an unreal feeling. Colors look off. The sound of the
crowd smothered, but somehow sweeter. I want to lie down and listen
to them.

“
Now, for a little
surprise for Thomas. Payment for your rudeness.” He holds his hands
in the shape of a circle. As he pushes his hands apart black,
maroon, and gold burst from them. The colors dance around each
other until they form Thomas's family crest, a shield with a hand
casting a spell on it. The hand moves and pink light comes from it
to create a bouquet of flowers. The flowers fade and the hand casts
another spell. It continues casting minor spells, hovering in the
air before me.

“
Stand,” Father commands.
I'd rather curl into a ball on the floor, but I'm not about to
disobey. Some pain lingers as the crest follows my movement. “Walk
to the edge of the box and back.”

I do so. Again the crest follows me.
Wherever I go there will be no mistaking that I'm Thomas's
property. Though it's supposed to be a recompense to Thomas for my
behavior, it feels more like a heavy reminder to me. Constricting.
The feeling lightened only by the surreal spell encompassing me.
When I get close to Father I make sure to keep my head
down.

“
Get rid of that sullen
mood, girl. We don't want Thomas worrying over your gloomy face
when he's about to compete. Sit down and pull yourself
together.”

Finally grateful to obey an order, I
do as directed. Instead of leaning back and resting on the chair as
I wish, I sit straight and mask my feelings with a pleased
expression. Eyes attentive and a small upward turn of my lips. The
honey spell he cast makes it easier, not so forced. As soon as I
have the expression fully in place, Father raises the
curtain.

Some minor duel is going on before us.
Lights flash between two warlocks. I lock my eyes on them, but
don't really see what they're doing. My leg throbs. I'm
cold.

Soon Cynthia arrives, servants laden
with food and drink behind her. She directs them to the table with
a jug on it and she prepares a plate for Father. Once he's
satisfied, she perches on the chair beside mine. He's more
interested in his food and the tournament than us, but we still
keep our voices down.

“
Father did better than I
thought with Thomas's family crest spell. I was afraid you were in
for a punishment, but this is magnificent.” She stares at Thomas's
crest hovering in the air before me as it creates a kitten. It
scampers about in the air a moment before dissolving and another
spell is cast.

My leg aches. “Yes, Father's a
talented warlock.”

“
Did something happen?”
Her hands grip her dark skirt.

With a gesture at the crest, I say,
“As you see.”

“
It's because of what we
talked of last night isn't it?” It takes me a moment to remember I
told her a little of my marriage fears. “It'll be all right. With
this spell, you really look like a grand prize. It's sure to boost
Thomas's chances of doing well, which can only aid you. You'll be
his good luck charm. No one harms a good luck charm.”

Unless it runs out of luck. I can't
bring myself to say anything. She's trying so hard.

“
You're shivering.” She
pulls a wrap from my bag and places it around my shoulders, face
bunched with concern. “Things really will turn out.”

Instead of answering, I nod at the
duel. “Can you tell who's winning?”

Her gaze drifts to the field and her
expression brightens as a jade light almost hits one of duelers.
“It's fascinating, isn't it? Do you ever wish you knew what was
going on when someone cast a spell?”

I think of what magic has brought to
my life. “No. No, I don't.”

We watch for hours. The bright flashes
of spells hold no appeal for me. Neither does the food Cynthia
insists I eat. Everything seems drab. The countries' different
colors, false. Smells fade to nothing. The people murmuring. The
dueling warlocks. Even the flashy, colored spells start to fade.
The honey-colored charm Father cast on me must be wearing off. Yet,
I've never been under it before, so I can't be sure.