Gossamer in the Darkness (Fantasyland)

Lady Maxine was not like any woman he’d ever met.

But she didn’t speak or act like Queen Cora.

She was definitely of his world.

Considering the impracticality of it, Loren set that thought aside and asked, “You made the betrothal arrangement with him at her birth. Obviously, at that time, he didn’t speak of another child. And as far as we know, no one has heard word of this. Why would a father hide one of his daughters…ever?”

Ansley shook his head. “I have no answer to that. But I’m also not Edgar Dawes. He’d sell her to the highest bidder, something he did in terms of status, if it meant he’d get something out of it. Perhaps he saw what he wrought in the deal he struck to make his girl a duchess, and he held his other daughter back to see what she might bring. In the meantime, Maxine, or her sister, was irreparably injured, the woman with us was in Fleuridia, perhaps not desirous of return, and he delayed your wedding because he was machinating to convince her to fulfill her part of the contract or fill her sister’s shoes.”

“You do know that sounds preposterous,” Loren noted, saying this even if he knew of another explanation, which was even more preposterous.

“I also know of no one, even the mightiest of witches, who can mend an injury like the one the woman at the sanitorium had. I’ve dispatched a man to ascertain she’s still there. When she is, which she will be, as she surely isn’t the woman with us, it will at least assuage my concerns that it’s not me who’s being preposterous.”

“There’s an explanation, Father, and might I suggest we simply ask them?”

“Absolutely not,” Ansley replied stiffly. “Perhaps, if you start to build a relationship with her, and trust blooms. But until then, we must proceed understanding a Dawes is a Dawes, and we must treat them with the trust they’ve earned. That being none.”

This was another query to which he wished a response, and he set about getting it.

“If you dislike Derryman so badly, why did you promise me to his daughter?” Loren asked.

His father, as ever, had a ready reply.

“Because it was my responsibility to you and your future to secure the most advantageous alliance I could. Because his wife was stunning, and he’s rich as sin, and his daughter was, as far as I knew, his only child. Her dowry alone, added to our personal wealth, will make you the richest man in Hawkvale, Loren, outside Noctorno. And now, as they produced no other child, again, as far as we know, you’ll inherit it all when Derryman dies. This means, eventually, you might even be wealthier than the king. His tactics to acquire that wealth might revolt me, but it does not negate said wealth.”

One could say this was a good reason, as no one, including Loren, had issue with being rich. Therefore no one, including Loren, had issue with being richer.

However, his father wasn’t finished.

“And you’ll be the most titled noble in the land, as you not only hold mine, you hold your mother’s, and your children will also hold your wife’s. You will need for nothing. You will want for nothing. Nor will your children or your children’s children, for generations. And you will hold power in the realm. You’ve already been asked to sit on Noctorno’s council, but Noctorno doesn’t see titles. The nature and fortitude of a man are what matters to him. But he’s not the only one in his council chambers who will be playing the game. And for many of them, the title, and where it stands, is all that matters.”

“So you thought about it, you didn’t just sell me to the highest bidder,” Loren joked.

Ansley tutted.

Loren smiled at his father.

Ansley grew serious. “I will find a way out of the contract, my boy, if she does not please you.”

Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed our tête-à-tête. However, it would mean a great deal to me if you would make an effort to learn when to back me into a corner, and when…not.

Loren greatly relished the idea of being in a situation where she was happy for him to back her into a corner.

Or back her somewhere that had a far more comfortable destination.

“I’m intrigued,” Loren admitted.

“And that pleases me, my son,” Ansley replied. “And I am not referring to wealth or power when I state that.”

Loren felt the softness again, this time around his heart, at his father’s words.

He didn’t share this.

“I think you need a drink,” Loren prescribed.

Ansley moved to him, clapped him on the back and stayed close as they both walked to the door, his father saying, “I believe we both need one.”

And he was, as through his life Loren knew his father often was (though he would rarely admit it), right.