A FIRST DAUGHTER'S DUTY

Marigold was stunned. The man in front of her was Lord Birley Renold. The man the temple sisters had told her numerous times was her father. Marigold was no fool. The man had abandoned her in the dome of the faith of the unblemished for years. He had never even visited her on her naming days. Why would he suddenly show up now?

"Why are you here?" Marigold quizzed, taking a step backward. How dare he call her father like he knew what that title actually meant.

"I came to talk." There was something about how smooth the words slipped out of his mouth. There were no cracks in his voice. There was no remorse in his eyes. The way he carried himself proved to Marigold that he did come to grovel on the marbled church floor and beg for her forgiveness. This was something else.

"I don't want to talk to you," Marigold continued to keep her head tall even when her heart was in shambles. It took everything to keep her back and knees straight and not burst into tears. "You left me to rot here because of something I had no control over…" Marigold stopped, as her mask began to slip. It was hard pretending his presence had no effect on her. But she would be damned if this man saw her cry. Using every ounce of strength she had, Marigold bowed out of a sense of duty. Her form was stiff from all the hard labor she had endured as an indentured of the temple. Please, leave."

Just as Marigold turned to go, the blunt end of Lord Birley's cane hit the marbled floor and made a thundering roar that forced Marigold to halt in her steps. "Don't you dare turn your back on me, girl!"

After the initial jolt that the Lord's reaction had sent through her, relief flooded Marigold like a chattering waterfall. The peace in the chaos was that her biological father was still capable of real human emotions. He just didn't feel regret forgetting he had a daughter for many moons. Acknowledging that she still wasn't worthy of a father's love or regret, Marigold turned to face him. "What happens now that I face you? I can tell you have not come to apologize. I cannot say I am surprised. You have always hated me for being an Arcan. As a child, I never really got it. But my years spent under the protection of the Goddess Adora have forced me to get it. I am blemished. A creature that should not exist. You were my father and even you couldn't get past that. You are not full of regret. You do not love me. So you must want something? What…could I possibly give the king's hand?"

Birley approached his daughter, his cane doing light taps on the polished floor as he closed the space between them. "I have come to offer you a way out of this temple. Do you not want that?"

"You threw me here because you could not stand the thought of explaining that your daughter was an Arcan. Now you want me back? You must think me an imbecile, my lord."

"No, quite the opposite actually. I merely need you to be my daughter in name only." His stance remained proud, akin to his title of King's hand. "I understand why you are mad. But I am not to blame. You are somewhat right to be angry. But if you want to keep that rage, I suggest you direct it to the one who made your life miserable. The one who damned you to this cruel fate, your lying mother."

There was truth in the words that her father spoke. But Marigold could not bring herself to hate the woman. If Marigold had been in the woman's shoes, she would have kept her secret…well, a secret. Marigold also knew she would not have been tossed into the temple to fend for herself had her mother been alive. The hate could be unbearable and all for actions the early Arcans made. Actions that had nothing to do with the current generation of Arcans. But Marigold understood. Humanity feared what they couldn't understand. It was why beautiful things rot in their hands. Arcans were not always hated or deemed as blemished. The mark was once one of honor. The old texts told that Adora the divine created humanity as a reflection of her own divine will. The gift of weaving desire into reality through the use of a simple word and mental fortitude was handed down to her most devout followers to be used in the service of the goddess. But power showed the true nature of some of those devout followers. They rebelled. That rebellion ended up being the fuel that started the burning cycle of hate. One that still ran deep.

"I will not discuss the sins of the woman who birthed me with the likes of you, just state your business."

"I intend to get you married." The man replied, chuckling as if the words that just made their way out of his pursed lips were funny in any sense. "His name is Layne Grimoult and he is an exceptional officer. He is rich from what I have heard. So he is fully capable of taking care of-"

"You are insane if you actually believe I would ever consider that nonsense you just spewed." Marigold cut in, combing her hair away from her face with the sheer strength of her fingers. "I am not interested in marriage. This… Is this it? The reason why you came here after all these years. You suddenly remembered you have a daughter you could toss into a loveless vow that would ensure you some more power?"

"You-"

"You must have believed that my life here must have been so horrendous that I would frolic out of these stone walls into some marriage with a complete stranger because you will it." Marigold caught him off again. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Father. But I am not interested. I did not grow up with servants tending to my every need while I hoped that one day I would catch the eye of a decent nobleman during my debutante season. The dreams I have and will pursue since I have been in this temple is to become a Sister of the faith of the unblemished."

Marigold was not sure what to expect after that bold statement that flowed out of her like she had no control of her own mouth. But she definitely did not expect the man to burst into a maniacal laugh. It sounded hollow at first. Almost like the eruption of laughter was being forced to mock her. But as seconds trickled by and the man still continued to laugh, Marigold had to succumb to the fact that the man- her father found her dreams laughable because they wouldn't come true. There was evidence that an Arcan like her had an opportunity just like everyone else who qualified for the position to become a sister in the temple. The high priestess of the faith of the unblemished was an Arcan who had managed to gain the goddess Adora's mercy. Despite the blemish that she would have been ordinarily regarded, the high priestess was regarded as a saint. The temple also had an archmage that ran another organization under the fold called the divine swords.

"You dream of becoming a sister?" Lord Birley queried while trying to stifle his laughter. By stifle, he barely made any attempt to hide how hilarious he found his daughter's dreams. "What makes you think the faith of the unblemished would allow a blemished into the fold?"

Marigold clenched her fist together. It was difficult not to take a swing at the man's jugular. But Marigold had to remember that he was regarded as the voice and the eyes of the King before he would even be regarded as her father. Her head would be off in an instant if she followed through. "Because-"

"Because the high priestess and the archmage of the fold are Arcans?" The man cut her in. He hit the nail right on the head too. Marigold watched his features soften and it stunned her long enough for the man to place a reassuring hand on her shoulders. Except, he was cold and calculating. Lord Birley leaned in close to Marigold's ear and spoke. "The Priestess Lyra is a powerful Arcan who has been touched by Adora herself. The Archmage Cassius is just as powerful." Birley stopped, gauging the damage his words were doing. The curt smile that crept up his mouth was a tell-tale sign that he had hit the right spots. "I have kept tabs on you Marigold. I know your blemish hasn't sung. You cannot word weave. Do you want to know what I hear when I hear those words? That means that a blemish like you is not worth the risk of going against the very existence of the faith. Whoever lied to you is even crueler than me because they cannot be honest with you. No matter how qualified you happen to be, you will never be a sister because you cannot give anything to Adora or the temple."

"I do not need your advice. I have done quite fine without you for years."

"Have you?" A devious smirk played at the corner of the man's mouth like he knew something Marigold did not.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Marigold dared to ask, despite knowing she would regret the answer that would follow.

"There is a reason why I chose you. I have another daughter, Marigold. From my second marriage. She is the one His Majesty ordered me to hand over to Layne Grimoult, a soldier of the divine swords. I have no problem with it. The man might not be the first or second or third choice I would have for little fairy. But it is not like I can refuse a decree from the king. But there is a little hiccup. The girl is pregnant."

"Out of wedlock?"

Lord Birley seemed to ignore the jab that Marigold made and continued. "I could risk it. But her bump cannot be hidden in the house of a husband and the last thing I want is to get on the wrong side of the King. Should Layne Grimoult discover that the bride he was presented with is impure, our whole family would be executed."

For Marigold, his tale made it very hard to understand or even consider to help him."Why should this get me to care? I am not a Renold. No one knows I exist."

"My money might have gotten you a simple life here in the temple of the faith of the unblemished. My money might have silenced those who know about you. But do not for one second believe that you will escape a Renold family execution when the King wills it. The suffering you believe you have endured all your life will be heaven compared to what would befall you if you should somehow escape public execution. You will see what it means to be blemished in these four walls when I am dead and my yearly donations to the church come to a halt. I wonder what would happen to your dreams of becoming a sister then?"

"Is that a threat?" Marigold scoffed.

"No! I am merely imploring that you heed my words, as the first daughter of the Renold house."