Of Thorns and Teeth | Book 1 of The Fall

1.1 The Welcoming (Part 2)

"Do you think this is proper? Or do you think it might be too vulgar?"

Sirrin set aside the book she was reading, and blinked up at her sister. Rowyne swayed in front of the looking-glass in a green dress, showing off her freckled shoulders. Her chestnut hair piled in layers of curls upon her head, flimsily secured by a crystal pin.

"The women of Eastern Caradhrain are known for their...decadent tastes," answered Sirrin. "I doubt anything we own might classify as vulgar to them."

Rowyne had spent almost the entire evening fussing over what she was to wear at the upcoming Candle Day Fete. Now all the fancy gowns they ever owned were in a jumbling heap of taffeta, lace, and Ophel silk upon the bed. Amongst these were hand-me-downs from their eldest sister Miriane.

"Too plain, then?" Rowyne's lips pursed together in frustration, and she plopped down on the bed, the sleeves tapering down her sinewy arms like wings. "Splendid. You'd think I'd have been better prepared to be the wife of a Caradrin lord."

Their youngest sister, nine-year-old Joelle, stirred underneath the bedcovers. Her gold-flecked lashes fluttered, but she remained asleep still.

"You speak their tongue," Sirrin said. "And you've been schooled on their customs prior to this. That by far is more important than merely looking pretty."

"I feel as if I'd look like a goat next to him."

"Nonsense," Sirrin snorted. "If what you say is true, then all women would look like goats aside him."

"Yea, but he was handsome," Rowyne gushed. "And it is not an exaggeration, no."

"He is Eldan-born, after all," Sirrin said, her fingers working her ash-brown hair into a tight braid. "Handsome so he may be, he's probably old enough to have sired a girl your age. Or mine for that matter."

Rowyne buried her face in her hands, and immediately Sirrin wished she could take back what she'd just said. "Oh, Rowyne, forgive me. My mouth's run away with me once again."

I have every reason to be concerned, Sirrin told herself. After all, Rowyne was but seventeen. For all she knew, he could be a hundred (or even two hundred) years old. Sirrin didn't know what to make of those kin who possessed the Life Gift, especially now that their beloved sister was to be given to one of them.

"It's perfectly all right," Rowyne said. "I know you meant no ill."

Their other sisters arrived, all in time to listen in to their conversation. First to enter was pale-haired Leanor, older than Sirrin only by three years. Leanor was present only for Candle Day, as nowadays she resided in Sant-Raehl. Only recently had she wed her Raehlian sweetheart, a certain Rence Cressler. Not that their mother approved of him to begin with.

"Is this the Heir of Samarna we are speaking of?" asked Leanor. "He but happened to meet Miriane and I once, when we we travelled to Caradrhain."

Sirrin turned to Rowyne then. Her younger sister sighed. "Baron," said Rowyne. "He is Baron now."

"Of course he's still considered quite young for an Eldan-born," Leanor quickly added. "I vaguely remembered him being with a woman when I first saw him. I must have been around ten or eleven at that time, so I cannot be sure. I suppose that arrangement did not work out as intended. As far as I know, Rowyne shall be his first bride."

"I can't understand why everyone's fussing over that Mister Moreigh," Cathiel (whom they called Kitty) said. She was the fourth sister, nineteen years of age, and the tallest of all the girls.

"I can't either, no," said plump little Dinara, who was fifteen. "Although I certainly wouldn't mind calling him my brother. At least he isn't distant and strange just like that Ortygian Prince, or a clod like Pashe. Am I right, Kitty?"