“Wynne, come here!” Shouted Larkspur.
“What is it?” Asked Wynne as she left her studies to join her younger sister at their mansions living room windows.
“Father has arrived, and he has brought a new horse with him.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, indeed! He is a big black stallion, very pretty, and I have a feeling he’s meant for you.”
“Lark, you know very well that father would never allow me to handle a new horse, let alone a stallion.” But Wynne couldn’t suppress the spark of hope;
After all, Lark’s feelings usually come to pass. It’ll be a rare misfortune if they prove false.
“Come with me, sister, and let us go to the stables to see this fine animal.”
Spoke Wynne out of her revere.
“Of course, but you had better put on your wraps, as there is a chill in the air.”
Upon entering the stables, Wynne felt a wave of trepidation pass through her.
What if I fall in love with this new horse, and then father sells him? It’s happened far too many times before. I don’t want to feel that sort of hurt again. What if he is Zafar? No. I musn’t allow myself to get carried away.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Sighed Lark, as she gazed in admiration at the sleek stallion prancing in his stall.
“He…” She trailed off.
“What is it? He’s what?” Said Lark in concern as she noticed the grave look on her elder sister’s face.
“Promise you will tell no one?” Whispered Wynne,
“Tell no one what? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I mean tell no one what I’m going to reveal to you.”
“You can trust me, Winnie, you know that.” Spoke Lark reverting to her sister’s childhood name.
“Well, you see, I’ve been having these visions...well dreams I guess you could say, and Zafar has been in my thoughts for a long time—She broke off, trembling.
“I’m scared, Larky! I…I can’t have visions; it’s unfavorable, and I must not be unfavorable!”
“Who is Zafar? He’s not—“Lark broke off as she saw her sister nod in resignation. She glanced at the magnificent creature then resumed,
“Well, I’m sure these dreams of yours are merely a coincidence. And if not, it can’t matter overly much. After all I’m cursed with seeing bits of the future, and it hasn’t harmed me yet.”
“But Larky, you don’t have the responsibility of marrying some old oaf who will hate a wife any different from anyone else! I don’t want to marry, but if I am forced, I want a chance at love, and no person in their right mind could fall in love with a foreteller.”
“Not that…I’m sorry. I just meant…” She muttered quietly as she saw the look of indignation on Lark’s face.
“I understand.”
“Do you? Do you realize how horrible the thought of marrying a complete stranger is? The thought of living with someone you abhor?”
“Oh, Wynne.” Whispered Lark, as she noticed Wynne’s ashen face, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know father was actually serious in his possible plans for you. This has grieved me tremendously.”
“You are a true sister”— Started Wynne, as their fifteen year old brother burst into the warm stables.
“What are you doing here?” Interrupted Raymond coldly.
“That is hardly any of your business!” Said Larky sharply.
“It is my business if I make it so.” He retorted rudely but with less confidence, “Anyway, father wants you both inside. He was quite displeased to find you had scampered off to the stables when you should have been there to receive him along with me and mother.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Said Lark, glancing quickly in Wynne’s direction.
Raymond must have noticed the look passed between them, for he raised an eyebrow at Lark in curiosity, but a glare silenced the question on his tongue.
Why did father have to return so soon? He’ll force me into matrimony to save his lousy head. Thought Wynne defiantly as she hurried to her chambers to dress in a fresh gown. Normally Wynne did not concern herself much about her father’s whereabouts as he was often gone attending some business or other, but lately she had been worrying exceedingly about his promise to find her an eligible suitor.
She knew her father’s rule as Kamarre was almost up, for he was nearing his sixtieth birthday, and by the magical law that had bound their society for centuries, he must pass on his title to the man of his choice on the eve of his sixtieth birthday, or be struck dead on the morrow…and Wynne knew of his dearest wish for her marriage before the fatal event of his humiliation to through them from the path of wealthy suitors. But why; why did she have to take on this burden at the tender age of seventeen?
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