Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,18

so happy, so insistent she marry their son.

A daughter of one of their smallholders, Delae had been a good worker, steady and reliable, with a good head for figures and a better hand for needlework. Her tapestries had sold well in Riverford town and still did, earning them the extra coin they needed. Even the Queen of Riverford had bought one, once. Delae had no illusions about her appearance though - her hair was too red - even less about her temperament - she was too strong-willed - or about her station. She’d looked to going to Riverford or perhaps even Doncerric for work to help her family.

They’d been astonished when Cana and Kolan had looked to her as bride and wife to their son, Kort. He could have - should have - done better. The thought he might want her had been bewildering but exciting.

She’d been young and he’d been handsome in his own way, tall and lean, with thick dark brown hair and dark eyebrows over eyes as brown as hazelnuts. He could be charming, too, when he wished.

And he had been, then…

Their courtship had been whirlwind. Kort had bought her jewelry - long since sold - and fine dresses - now worn to shreds or turned to rags. He’d spoken fine words, had treated her like a Lady.

It had been a jump up for her family - a chance to rise in station.

She had no bitterness; it had been her choice to make and she’d made it.

If she’d ever been in love with Kort, though, that love had died quickly.

He’d ever and always had another love, a love greater than any other - gambling - which was why Cana and Kolan had been in such a hurry to get them married.

They’d barely passed their honeymoon when Kort had vanished for the first time…and with him most of the household funds, leaving her to manage the landholding and all the smallholders who were dependent upon it, with what little was left.

It had been a shock. But not to Cana and Kolan - who’d been shamefaced but unrepentant at first and then simply unrepentant - despite the fact that they depended on her.

She’d been heartbroken but even so somehow she’d managed.

Kort had returned months later, as charming as always, warm and loving, with profuse apologies, excuses, promises and gifts.

Warily, Delae had accepted them.

A week later he was gone, and with him most of their coin.

Delae never knew what possessed her to secrete some away but she had.

So he hadn’t left them completely destitute.

Once she’d actually gone after him, following him through the taverns of Riverford to the wine sinks of Doncerric, the High King’s city on the cliffs by the sea, and then to the opium dens of the desert city of Marakis.

She’d found him finally, dicing his money away - drunk and with a comely wench at his hip. His face had reflected his dissolute ways, his dissatisfaction, the dice his first pleasure, the doxy his second.

He hadn’t seen Delae but she’d seen him. And she’d noted he was winning for a change.

Both he and the doxy had been asleep when Delae walked into the room they shared. To her surprise, she’d felt no anger at seeing them, it was simple confirmation of what she’d already guessed. All she felt was weariness, a deep and abiding tiredness. She’d taken half his winnings and left, unobserved.

For a brief time she’d considered not returning to the homestead, to the duties that weighed on her so heavily, but she wouldn’t be foresworn on this. It wasn’t her vow to Kort that kept her but her promise as wife of the landowner. It was Dan and Morlis, poor damaged Tad, Petra and Hallis and so many of the others who had held her to this place through the years.

They needed her; it was that simple. It was her duty. She couldn’t desert them, not with honor. She’d made her oaths and promises. Kort had broken his but she couldn’t break hers, not and abandon these folk who needed her as he’d abandoned them. He could but so long as she was here, she wouldn’t, nor would she allow him to be named so, dragging his once good name into the mud.

If she were to leave, though…

Dan was a good enough smith but he had no head for figures. Morlis couldn’t read and could barely sum. Some of the smallholders were worse, although now that Delae tutored the children through the good weather