“…and I said frankly, Lieutenant, I don’t think the horse would appreciate that!” Lord Pemberton crowed, slapping his knee so hard his flesh jiggled.
The rest of the party laughed along, although Asaria’s was a little half-hearted. Sella shot her a glare and Asaria increased her hilarity until she was the only one left laughing. When Dempsey looked at her as if she were a bit daft, she clamped her mouth shut.
“I say, Lord Pemberton, it’s amazing that you’ve been able to keep your sense of humor, even on the battlefield,” Zander said, grinning.
Asaria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her brother was such a suck-up.
“A sense of humor is one of the most important things a man can possess, son,” Lord Cal said.
Apparently the sentiment did not lie with his own son, for Dempsey had been grumbling about his strawberry juice not being cold enough for the last thirty minutes.
As Zander, her father, and Lord Pemberton lapsed into stories of their triumphs on the battlefield, Sella turned to Lady Pemberton and began discussing flower arrangements for the wedding. Inwardly, Asaria felt a little piece of her sanity shrivel up and break off.
She quickly hid her look of horror when Dempsey turned to her. “It’s quite a lovely day out, if a bit hot. Would you care to accompany me for a stroll around the grounds, your highness?”
“N—”
“She would love that!” Sella nearly shrieked, overhearing them.
“I would love that,” Asaria repeated quickly.
“Aye, the gardens are lovely this time of year,” Joreth agreed. “Imalda will chaperone you two,” he added, waving a hand in the maid’s direction.
She stood immediately and curtsied. “Yes, your majesty.”
Gritting her teeth, Asaria accepted Dempsey’s outstretched hand. The three of them, Imalda a few steps behind, set off, stepping down the marble stairs of the back of the palace veranda. She picked up the heavy yellow material of her dress so she wouldn’t trip and fall flat on her face.
“Have you any hobbies, my lord?” she asked as they strolled along the cobblestone path leading to the gardens. She tried to keep her touch on his sleeve as light as possible.
“Hobbies?” Dempsey murmured, glancing at her. “I rather like fishing. Very relaxing, it is. But I am not a man that has very much extra time, you see. There is always business to attend to, and appearances to be made. It is most important that one make their reputation as esteemed as possible.”
He put strong emphasis on the last four words, and Asaria ignored the barb, realizing he was referring to her latest stint in the papers.
“I expect that of my peers,” he said. And my wife.
He did not have to say it the words.
“Right,” Asaria said, breathing sharply through her nose.
On either side of them, luscious pink roses accompanied by vibrant violets, cheerful daisies and shy orange tulips sprouted through the well-manicured emerald grass. Deeper into the garden, fountains with stone figures of faeries spouted cool, clear water. Birds sang in the trees. It was very scenic and relaxing, but only five minutes into her intended’s company, Asaria was set to boil.
“And what of you? Wait, do not tell me,” Dempsey smiled. “You’re a most accomplished water colorist. Or you crochet beautiful dresses. Or maybe you play a flute like an angel?”
“Er…no. I am very good at riding, however. And archery is a favorite past time of mine. Swimming, too,” she grinned.
Dempsey stopped so suddenly that Imalda nearly crashed into him. The maid stumbled to regain her balance. “Surely you’re jesting,” he said, his face reddening, his eyes widening in horror. “It is no place for a lady to do such things!”
Asaria swallowed hard. “Of course I was kidding,” she said weakly. “What was your father saying about having a sense of humor earlier…?”
He visibly relaxed and began strolling again. “Ah. Yes. Sense of humor. But for a moment there, your highness, you had me fooled. I honestly thought there was nothing to commend you to me. Let us face it; you have certainly become more attractive since our last meeting, but you are no stunning beauty. I can’t marry a hoyden!” he laughed.
She could hear Imalda’s outraged gasp behind them, but Dempsey was oblivious.
They should not have, but the words cut her deep. “Nothing to commend me?” she asked sharply, pulling away from him.
Dempsey raised a brow. “Your highness…Asaria—”
“‘Your highness’ will do,” she snapped.
He frowned. “This is a marriage of convenience, is it not? As long as we are being forced into a dishonest position, we should at least be honest with each other. I beg you not to take offense. Because remember, dear…’til death do us part,” he winked.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, and they resumed walking.
She turned her head, pretending to admire the gardens, so Dempsey could not see the sharp tears that stung her eyes.
For clarification, this piece actually DOES NOT have a time frame. It takes place in a fictional land.


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