In To The Demon's Arms

2. The Disease

When dinner ended, the soft clinking of utensils faded into a quieter, more deliberate silence. It was the kind of silence that did not belong to comfort, but to something being held back.

"Claude, take Csarie to her room and keep her company," Lord Rife said, his tone leaving no space for refusal. It sounded polite, but it felt like a dismissal—like we were being moved out of sight so the real conversation could begin.

I rose from my seat, smoothing my dress out of habit, and followed Claude without a word.

The hallway upstairs felt longer than before, the candlelight stretching our shadows across the walls. He walked ahead of me, his pace steady, his presence distant. I wondered, not for the first time, how someone my age could feel so... unreachable.

He's really strange, I thought quietly. Maybe a little like me. Just colder.

"Claude," I said, breaking the silence, "aren't you curious about what they're talking about?"

He didn't answer. Not even a glance.

I slowed my steps, then stopped entirely. Something in my chest tightened—not quite fear, not quite curiosity, but something that wouldn't let me walk away so easily.

Before I could think better of it, I turned back and crept toward the staircase. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I told myself that. But the moment I saw the faint glow from below and heard Lord Rife's voice again, I knew I wouldn't leave.

"I have an offer to make, Mister and Misis Lux."

His voice was calm, controlled, and far too serious for a simple dinner visit.

I crouched slightly near the door, careful not to make a sound.

A presence settled beside me.

I glanced sideways and found Claude already there, seated quietly against the wall, as if he had expected this all along.

"In exchange—" Lord Rife paused, clearing his throat.

My fingers tightened against the edge of the door.

"In exchange?" my father asked.

"In exchange, your daughter will marry my son. And in time, she will bear an heir for this land."

The words did not make sense at first.

Then they did.

My breath caught in my throat. My hands began to tremble, the wood of the door suddenly too cold against my skin.

"What?" my father's voice wavered, something I had never heard before. "Mister Rife, they're still children."

"Mister Lux," Lord Rife continued, his tone unwavering, "at the age of twenty, your daughter will be a refined and educated woman. The marriage will take place then. Until that day, they will be engaged. No interference. No complications."

Each word felt final, like something already decided.

"My daughter..." my father hesitated, "she won't be happy."

My heart thumped harder. I wanted him to refuse. I needed him to.

But instead—

"The lands, the position... they are already more than enough. I accept."

Something inside me dropped, heavy and sudden.

The room below filled again with conversation, lighter now, as if nothing important had just been decided. As if my life had not just been placed neatly into someone else's hands.