Spirit above, he expected her to be grateful. Grateful to be married off to a man she would barely know. Grateful her self-matched parents were not alive to object.
“Mistress Rodelle has a far enough reach she can find someone with no objections to your … previous upbringing.”
Sage’s head snapped up. What, exactly, was wrong with her life before? It was certainly happier.
“It’s quite an honor,” he continued, “especially considering how busy she is now, but I convinced her your scholarly qualities elevate you above your birth.”
Her birth. He said it like it was shameful to be born a commoner. Like he hadn’t married a commoner himself. Like it was wrong to have parents who chose each other.
Like he hadn’t made a public mockery of his own marriage vows.
She sneered down at him. “Yes, it will be an honor to have a husband as faithful as you.”
His posture went rigid. The patronizing expression twisted away, leaving behind something much uglier. She was glad—it gave her the strength to fight back. His voice shook with barely contained fury. “You dare…”
“Or is faithfulness only expected of a nobleman’s wife?” she said. Oh, his rage was good. It fed hers like wind on a wildfire.
“I will not be lectured by a child—”
“No, you prefer to lecture others with your example.” She jabbed a finger at the folded letters between them. “I’m sure your friends know where to come for lessons.”
That brought him to his feet, bellowing, “You will remember your place, Sage Fowler!”
“I know my place!” she shouted back. “It is impossible to forget in this house!” Months of holding back drove her forward. He’d dangled the possibility of letting her leave, allowing her a life outside his guardianship, only to drop her straight into an arranged marriage. She balled her fists and leaned toward him over the desk. He’d never struck her, not once in the years she’d challenged him, but she’d also never pushed him so far, so fast.
When Uncle William finally spoke, it was through clenched teeth. “You dishonor me, Niece. You dishonor the duty you owe me. Your parents would be ashamed.”
She doubted that. Not when they had endured so much to make their own choice. Sage dug her fingernails into her palms. “I. Will. Not. Go.”
His voice was cold to counter her heat. “You will. And you will make a good impression.” He eased back down with that regal, condescending air she hated and picked up the quill. Only his white knuckles belied his calm exterior. He flicked his other hand in casual dismissal. “You may go. Your aunt will see to the preparations.”
He always did that. Always brushed her aside. Sage wanted to make him pay attention, wanted to leap across the desk, swinging at him with closed fists like he was a sandbag out in the barn. But that behavior Father would have been ashamed of.
Without curtsying, Sage turned away and stomped out the door. As soon as she reached the passage, she began running, shoving through a throng of people carrying trunks and baskets, not caring who they were or why they’d suddenly appeared in the manor house.
The only question in her mind was how far away she could get by sunset.
2
SAGE SLAMMED THE bedroom door with a satisfying bang and walked across to the tall wardrobe in the corner. She flung the cabinet open and dug around for the satchel in the back. Her fingers found the rough canvas in the dark, recognizing it instantly despite not having used it in years, and she pulled it out and inspected it. The straps were still strong; no mice had chewed any holes she could find.
It still smelled like him. Like the tallow and pine pitch salve Father made for cuts and scrapes. He used it both on her and the birds he trained. She squeezed her eyes shut. Father would’ve stopped this. No, he never would have let it start. But Father was dead.
Father was dead, trapping her in her fate he’d always promised to shield her from.
The door opened, startling her, but it was only Aunt Braelaura, come to smooth things over as she always did. Well, it wouldn’t work this time. Sage stuffed clothes into the bag, starting with the breeches she wore on rambles in the woods. “I’m leaving,” she snapped over her shoulder.
“So I gathered,” her aunt replied. “I told William you wouldn’t take it well.”
Sage turned on her. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Braelaura’s eyes crinkled a little in amusement. “Honestly, I didn’t think he’d succeed. I saw no reason to upset you over something so unlikely.”
Even her aunt didn’t think she was marriage material. Sage didn’t want to be matched, but it was still insulting. She went back to her packing.
“Where will you go?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Do you expect it to go better than last time?”
Of course she’d bring that up. Sage furiously jammed extra socks into the bag. The nights were getting cold; she’d need them. “That was years ago. I can take care of myself now.”
“I’m sure you can.” So calm. So reasonable. “What do you intend to do for food?”
In response, Sage picked up the sling draped over a stack of books, wrapped it up dramatically, and stuffed it in the pocket of her skirt. Ugh. She’d have to change before she left.
Braelaura raised her eyebrows. “Squirrels. Delicious.” She paused. “Available all winter.”
“I’ll find work.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Then I’ll travel until I do.”
She must have sounded serious enough, because her aunt’s tone shifted. “It’s dangerous out there for a girl on her own.”
Sage snorted to hide her growing unease. She’d wandered the countryside for years with her father, and she knew very well what dangers—human and animal—she could face. “At least I won’t be forced to marry someone I don’t even know.”
“You say that as if matchmakers don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Mistress Rodelle certainly made the best match for you,” Sage said sarcastically.
“Yes, she did,” Braelaura said, unruffled.
Sage gaped at her. “You can’t be serious.” Everyone knew what Aster was. Her name—that of a plant—declared illegitimacy to the world. It wasn’t the girl’s fault where she came from, but Sage couldn’t fathom why Braelaura forgave her husband.
“Marriage is not simple or easy,” Braelaura said. “Even your parents knew that in the short time they had.”
Perhaps not, but their love had been simple; getting married should’ve been easy. It shouldn’t have meant being disowned by her mother’s parents and shunned by half the village. But to them it had been worth it to be together.
“What exactly are you afraid of?” Braelaura asked.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Sage snapped.