I’m betrothed to Ren and Odelia and Lyua.
All was not perfect, of course.
Princess Trini stayed on the edges of his awareness, watching him, wary like a horse broken with a heavy hand and now distrustful. Princess Halley remained a complete unknown; no one seemed willing even to talk about her. All he knew about her was that she, like all her sisters, was red-haired and strong-willed.
Summer sulked because, with Jerin fetching the hoped-for four thousand crowns, the family would definitely split at Corelle. Cullen would be the older sisters’ husband. Eldest and Corelle had already fought often over using futures on Doric to purchase a husband for the middle sisters. Worst of all, once Jerin’s brother’s price was in their hands, his sisters needed to buy Cullen and leave immediately; they had tickets for passage upriver on a boat that left at noon.
Still, he couldn’t stop smiling.
It was decided to sign both contracts at the same time. Ren came in the morning, while he was still damp from his bath, for the prenuptial inspection. It was difficult to tell which of them was more embarrassed-Ren, he, or Eldest. Despite her blush. Ren’s eyes glowed with an excitement that sent his heart racing and other parts of his body reacting.
“I’m satisfied.” With a grin, Ren picked up his dressing gown and helped him into it. “Everything seems to be in good working order.”
“But you knew that,” Eldest said.
“I would not be so cavalier,” Ren warned. “You have Cullen’s inspection yet, and you are more guilty of dalliance than I am.”
Eldest faked innocence. “Oh, I was talking about the sperm test.”
That only made Ren smile wider and Jerin blush more. Cullen’s report indicated that Jerin’s elder sisters could expect the normal number of boys from their new husband. The doctor hand-delivered Jerin’s report, fortunately hours later, just to see “the amazing specimen of male virility” herself. His sisters had been exceedingly smug about the report; one would think they had filled the small glass jar themselves.
Cullen, thankfully, did not take it as a personal slight on himself.
Ren apparently already had all the originals noted on his birth certificate researched and double-checked, so this visual check for inbred deformities was the last formality.
Betrothals are for women; marriages are for gods. While solemn, there was no mistaking the betrothal for anything but what it was: a purchase. Ren handed over Jerin’s brother’s price in four small strongboxes, and signed the betrothal contract. Eldest Whistler counted through the boxes separately, verifying that each contained a thousand crowns, then countersigned the contract. Eldest took Jerin’s hand, led him to Ren’s side, and gave his hand over to the princess. Ren clasped his hand tight, taking ownership.
Then it was time for Cullen’s betrothal. The Moorlands received two of the four boxes. Eldest Whistler and Eldest Moorland signed as the heads of their families. Eldest Moorland gave Eldest Whistler Cullen’s hand.
It was done. Cullen’s wedding would be in a month at Heron Landing. Jerin’s royal marriage would need an additional two months to plan. Hopefully, Princess Hal-ley would reappear in time for the wedding.
They had a betrothal lunch, and then, with lots of hugging and kissing, Cullen and the Whistlers said good- bye.
“Take good care of my little brother,” Moorland said.
“We will,” Whistler promised.
“These are the husbands’ quarters.” Ren said, unlocking the doors and pushing them open.
His new family stood around him. waiting for his reaction, and Jerin could only gasp. All previous splendor of the palace paled to this. His first impression was of vaulting ceilings, the flood of sunlight from a wall of windows across the room, the soft murmur of water, the smell of roses, a splash of cool green to his far left.
“Go on.” Lylia slipped around to the front to tug his hand gently. “From the balcony you can see forever.”
He entered the room, not sure where to look first, feeling doll-sized against the scale of the room. There was a fireplace he could stand inside. A massive grand piano sat dwarfed in one corner. Settees and lounges that would have crowded any room in the Whistler home littered the room like chains of islands, surrounded by great expanses of polished marble and shoals of carpets.
“There’s a private rose garden with a fountain,” Trini murmured from behind him.
“Over there is the bedroom!” Odelia pointed out double doors opened to expose another vast chamber and a huge bed on a raised dais.
“If there is anything you don’t like, we can have it changed,” Ren stated, unlocking the door to the balcony. It was deceiving, that door. Wrought iron twisting and curling, painted white, backed by glass. It looked bright and open, but it could keep out an army.
The sunbaked balcony of dressed stone looked out over the cliffs-in essence, protected by the sheer drop. Below, the sprawling city, the glittering river, and then the green roll of fields went out as far as the eye could see. He stared out, feeling suddenly small and lost.
Ren sensed his distress, and touched his shoulder, concern in her eyes. He reached out for comfort and she came into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered for his ears alone. “I know it’s confining after the freedom of your farm, but it’s to keep us all safe.”
“When we were little,” Odelia called, oblivious to his distress, skipping and hopping on the wide paving stone, “we ate breakfast with Papa out here, and then played hopscotch. This is the best place for hopscotch in the whole palace.”
Jerin turned his back on the open sky and found the vast room transformed by the very presence of his new family. The Queen Mothers had followed them into the room, but stopped midway, taking up residence on the settees. His child brides darted about the room, exploring, laughing, and calling to one another. The huge room contained them comfortably, keeping them together without making them feel in each other’s way.
Ren gave him a sad smile, so he hugged her.
“Was this a good place when your father was alive?” Jerin asked.
“It was my favorite part of the palace.”
“I’ll have to work on making it so again.”
The husbands’ quarters were very much a place of history. The rooms had been cleaned and aired, but layers and layers of the generations remained. A cabinet of board games. A jeweled collection of kaleidoscopes. A sewing stand filled with musty supplies. A knitting basket with a half-finished baby blanket. A collection of music boxes. Even the massive wardrobes in the dressing room brimmed with clothes.
“After our husband was killed,” Queen Mother Elder said with slight bitterness, “Keifer wanted some of his nicer clothes. Then, after the explosion, none of us could stand the thought of dealing with them. We should have removed them before today.”
Jerin lifted down one floral dressing gown, the silk floating in his hands. “It seems a shame. They’re beautiful.”
“Many of them have memories attached,”‘ Ren said, taking the gown from him. “Not all of them good.”
Even the good ones, Jerin reflected, could be painful. “What will you do with them?”
“Sell them to a ragpicker,” Odelia said.
“I’d rather see them burned,” Ren said, “than to have strangers going over Papa’s things.”
An idea occurred to Jerin, and he started to speak without thinking it through. “We could-” And then the thought reached its logical end. He was about to suggest sending the clothes to Cullen; his sisters could never provide such a rich wardrobe. Then he remembered the fate of the fine clothes the Queens had provided to his sisters; they were to be sold on the racks of his sisters’ new store. He winced at the realization that his sisters would be equal to ragpickers.
“We could what?” Ren asked.
He considered saying, “Nothing,” but in truth, he couldn’t be sure that his sisters would sell them at the store. “We could send them to Cullen. My sisters could never afford the type of clothes he is used to.”
Odelia laughed. “Cullen is probably withholding sexual services until he’s allowed to ride horses. These are barely clothes you could wear outside.”
“You could make holiday shirts for the little ones out of these,” Jerin pointed out. “Or curtains, or slipcovers
