Betrothed by Jill Myles Page A

in Rilen’s rough linen shirt, a shirt that she’d spun for him with care, a shirt that he wore to plow in the fields. It should have hurt her feelings, but she pulled at it, the feel of it filling her mind with other memories than Prince Graeme’s cold, blue eyes. “The last time a prince had a chosen betrothed was three hundred years ago. They think I am some kind of strange person the gods have decreed should marry their prince, all because I can bear him daughters.” She choked a laugh. “Ridiculous. Daughters.”
    But Rilen wasn’t laughing. His hands clutched hers, his eyes serious. “Go on.”
    Go on? What more did he want to know? Didn’t he hate the prince? Didn’t he at least find this amusing? His hands were tight on her own, constricting bands that trapped her against his side as he held her in place. “I don’t know what else to say,” Seri said, hesitant. “They did not pay me—they say the vizier will see to my needs and I have no need for money.” She laughed at that, she who had always fought for even a pence, scraping to make it go as far as it could. “They put me in a room larger than my poor house, larger than yours. Their food is so wonderful, but the prince and the others do not eat, at least not in front of everyone else. His shirts cost more than my entire farm earns in three annums.” The ridiculousness of the situation started to settle, made her relax a little. “They make women wear these high collars, as if our necks were something to be frightened of, and they choke me.” She shook her head. “Guards follow me everywhere I go, and I may not see the prince unless explicitly given permission. It is truly, truly insane.” She paused, then squeezed Rilen’s hands. “He is not a good man, the prince. He is cold and full of hate. He does not want to marry me—thinks of me as animal. He said such awful things to me that I slapped him without thinking about it.”
    Her lips tightened in frightened memory, and she searched his face. “They will come after me now. They will kill me and my family because I have insulted him. We have to get away.” She pulled her hands from his, distress making her twitchy and nervous. “We can get away from here under cover of night. I’ll get Father and Josdi, and you—”
    “Wait.” Rilen got to his feet and took her hands in his again, pulling her to her feet as well.
    Her heart thudded in dismay, and Seri allowed Rilen to pull her up. “We cannot wait. The troops will be here soon—”
    An intense look crossed his face. “The prince wishes to marry you? In three days’ time?”
    Now he would get angry. Now he would clutch her close to him and declare her as his own. She’d have to stop him from going after the prince, for to attack him directly would be madness. “Rilen, I assure you—”
    He smiled. Not a hesitant smile, but a great, beaming burst of light. A laugh erupted from his throat and he grasped her by the waist and swung her about, the long gray skirts flapping around her legs. “Seri,” he cried, laughing as he twirled her. “You are a marvel!”
    She wrestled with his hands, even as they pinched her waist. “I don’t understand. Rilen. What’s gotten into you?”
    After one more giddy twirl, he put her down, then hugged her close to him. “You’ve given us the way out! The way to defeat the Athonites and get them to leave our lands.” His relieved laughter carried through the barn.
    It didn’t make sense to her. Seri shook her head at him, trying to make him understand. “Rilen, I can’t go back.”
    That got his attention. His smile faded and then he grasped her by the shoulders again, then smoothed her hair as if trying to calm a child. “Of course you can go back.”
    “I slapped the prince—”
    He interrupted. “You’re their magically sent betrothed of the prince. They won’t touch you.” A loud laugh erupted from him again. “This is too perfect!”
    She jerked away from him, stung. Why was he