DINE ON DOUBLE STANDARDS AND DECEIT

Lord Birley was horrified. He could not have this. He could not have Marigold going through another moral crisis when Layne Grimoult would be visiting to make a proposal tomorrow. But he couldn't throw rage at her. He had to be gentle with his approach. He clutched to his cane so tight that his knuckles went white.

"Daughter, has every word I have uttered not make sense to you? Do you want to die?"

"Do not call me Daughter," Marigold retorted. She meant it too. "You have never seen me as one of yours. If this situation had not reared its ugly head, we both know you would have left me at the temple to rot. But what I find the most ironic is that you would cause me to do the very harm you despised my mother for doing."

"Oh trust me, I do not wish to deceive Layne Grimoult. Offending the son of the Archmage of the temple of the unblemished is like walking on glass. But it is necessary for all of us to survive. You might be right. I might not acknowledge you. But when fire catches this family's name. You will be acknowledged and it does not matter to the Archmage or the Monarchy that you have not enjoyed the privilege that comes with being a Renold. Your head will fall. So spare me your moral uprightness, and, if not us, do what you must to save yourself. Walk on glass for as long as you can for your sake."

Marigold got it now. The man indeed did not have a choice. His hands were tied. The king was involved and her father seemed genuinely terrified of Layne Grimoult's father. But as much as Marigold wanted to see life and the wonderful things the outside world had to offer. She could not do it living in fear. Fleta's pregnancy still sounded like a reasonable way for the Renold house to survive. So Marigold made her thoughts public.

"It does not have to be me though." She said. "Fleta's pregnancy should be enough to save the Renold house. A pregnancy is scandalous but it surely is not the end of the world. All Fleta has to do is be honest with the man when he arrives for her hand. He is a man with high standing. Surely, his voice matters in delicate situations like this. Marriage does not have to happen."

Lord Birley's remaining traces of gentleness evaporated in an instant. His calloused hands gripped Marigold's face, his forceful hold sending a burning sensation across her skin. "Listen here, girl," his voice carried a harsh edge, "I have no idea what kind of illusions they're feeding you at that temple, but this world, the real world, is a cruel and unforgiving place. Survival here demands you be as ruthless as the world itself. Do you honestly believe I haven't considered leveraging Fleta's pregnancy to escape this predicament? But remember this – in Haske, the king's word reigns supreme. To imagine you're exempt from it is..."

Before Lord Birley could finish his sentence, a sudden knock on the door brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. His irritation was palpable as he bellowed, "Who's there?"

"Tabitha, the maid," the voice on the other side responded. "I've brought the basin and water as Lady Fleta requested."

A weary sigh escaped Lord Birley as he released his grip on Marigold's face. "Honestly, I'm weary of sheltering you from reality. Peer deep within yourself and decide your own fate. Remember, you're your mother's daughter. Keeping your heritage a secret should come naturally."

"You are a cruel man." Marigold managed to whisper.

Her father didn't mind those words. "Come inside, Tabitha."

The door swung open, revealing the maid Tabitha holding a large basin of water alongside another servant

. Lord Birley nodded at her before turning to Marigold. "I'll leave you to your privacy, I simply hope that you make the choice that is smart." he grumbled, exiting the room.

Tabitha entered cautiously, setting the basin down. "Shall I assist you with your bath, Lady Marigold?"

Marigold's patience was worn thin, her frustration bubbling to the surface and even if she did not mean it. It boiled over. "No," she snapped, her tone sharper than intended. "I can manage myself."

Tabitha's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Marigold's outburst. She hesitated for a moment before nodding and quickly exiting the room with the other servant, leaving Marigold alone with her thoughts and devices.

Marigold locked the shut door then proceeded to undress until all that was left was her bare skin. She took a moment to look at what the maid had brought. A basin of warm water. A clean rag to dry off at the side and the soap Fleta had promised her. Marigold took a moment to look at the room she would be spending the night in. It was not like Fleta's room. The opulence was not over the top. The colors were dull, almost as if it lacked personality but it still felt familiar. Marigold's eyes stopped at the mirror just above the dresser. Mirrors were not allowed back at the temple. Because not only was it expensive, but a lot of sisters believed that staring at one's reflection encouraged self love instead of love for the goddess Adora. In that moment, Marigold did not care about looking at her face. She tilted her back in a way that she could see her spine in the mirror. Her eyes focused on the blemish. It looked different in the mirror than a water surface. It still pulsed under her touch, as if it had a life of its own.

Marigold wondered how she would hide this if she was to marry. Marriage was intimate. She knew that much. Her future husband would see her. All of her if their union was ever going to work. She needed advice and who else was there to call but the spirit parrot she had known since she was a child. Ten was wise and old. She would have the right words to say.

"Ten?" Marigold called out. "I need your help."

However, the chamber remained silent, devoid of Ten's familiar response. Perplexed, she called out again, "Ten?!" her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. Still, there was no reply. Which was unusual; because the chatty spirit had never failed to answer her call before.

Marigold furrowed her brow, her worry deepening. She had always counted on Ten's wisdom, and this silence was unsettling.

With a resigned sigh, Marigold stepped closer to the basin filled with warm water. Ten probably wanted nothing to do with this house. If she could vanish when she could. She would too. Tentatively, she dipped her fingers into the water, testing its temperature. It was soothingly warm, and she decided it was time to immerse herself. Slowly, Marigold lowered herself into the water, feeling its gentle embrace surround her.

As the warmth enveloped her, Marigold's thoughts continued to churn. She considered her options, the weight of her heritage and the impending marriage. She needed more information before making any decisions, and that meant seeking out Layne Grimoult, the man she would potentially marry. She couldn't make an informed choice without understanding his perspective and intentions when it came to having a partner.

Resolute, Marigold decided she would confront the infamous Layne Grimoult before making any life-altering choices. She would engage in a conversation, gauge his thoughts, and assess the situation. Only then could she determine the best course of action for herself, and her future.