Other Lives(2)

“I know this must all seem strange to you. But a marriage to Darius is a match desired by many women. It would be a lucky alliance,” he said.

“What will you obtain from such a lucky alliance?”

“The gratitude of Darius and the money that comes with it.”

“You strike me as an unusual matchmaker.”

“I am a fellow who looks for opportunities. There’s an opportunity, now, to find an old friend of mine a bride.”

“And you couldn’t find any suitable girl at Asenat?”

“My cousin told me about you. He said you were an unusual beauty. Darius is a demanding man.”

Miranda motioned to the maid and the maid stepped back, drifting to a corner, looking bored.

“That sounds refreshing,” she said.

“Your family could profit from this union.”

“You think so?”

“After your failed nuptials this is a golden opportunity.”

Through the corner of his eye Nikolaos thought the maid’s face had gone pale. Miranda leveled her gaze with him, her lips tightly curled in a mocking smile.

“Did your cousin also tell you about that?”

“Bits and pieces.”

“Bits and pieces,” she repeated. “If you want the plain truth the groom was a drunken sod that died three days before the wedding. Fell of his horse and broke his neck. He was so full of wine I doubt he felt anything at all.”

“Tragic. You must have been crushed.”

“My uncle was crushed. He spent money on needless preparations,” the girl’s tone was openly bold now, almost angry. But as she looked at him, it softened a bit. “Golden opportunities seldom are as golden as they appear Sir Lessar.”

“Nikolaos,” he ventured.

“Women just don’t go from living in an impoverished household to becoming the wives of sweet, kind men who lavish jewels upon them. That fairy tale you spun for my uncle is just that: a fairy tale.”

“I never said Darius was sweet nor kind. He is rich and willing to purchase the wife that pleases him the most. And nothing pleases Darius more than beautiful objects, beautiful jewels, beautiful women.

“By helping me you’ll help yourself. I know you are not happy with the present situation, but it would be best for both of us if you actually spoke to Darius once you arrive. You’ve made no attempts of conversation or even the slightest hint of a sympathetic smile with me. While I do not care, he will.”

Nikolaos paused. She did not seem convinced, ever so slightly twisting the cuffs of her gown.

“The point is you can become a marchioness,” he continued. “Or you can go back home and find yourself some other drunkard. Hopefully one who does not like to go riding.”

Miranda looked away now, sighing.

“Then?” he pressed on.

She gave him a determined, hard look. “My uncle must have mentioned I do not have a dowry. It’s a sad situation for any woman. If Darius does not wed me I’d like a dowry upon my return home. And the coins you gave my uncle as a bribe do not count.”

“Well,” Nikolaos said, chuckling. “If you help me you can have your dowry. You’ll be charming, you’ll be sweet, you’ll be talkative. Do you agree?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said.

***

In the dream, for it must be a dream, the world was burning. As the walls around Miranda were consumed, she stood perfectly still admiring the raging inferno.

The flames licked at her dress but she felt no fear. In fact, she felt no heat. The chamber was strangely cold and she rubbed her arms, shivering.

How odd, she thought as a tapestry went up in flames and dark smoke clouded her gaze.

She noticed that her left hand had grown black and her fingers when she moved them collapsed into ashes. It was only then that she felt the searing heat and rushed towards the window. She jumped in a vain attempt of escape from the conflagration.

It was a long fall and through it she kept burning, her hair now a crown of fire.

Miranda woke up and stared at the ceiling. For a moment she did not remember where she was, and then it returned like the tide. The ship. The trip. Everything.

The folly, she thought.

It was still three days until they reached port and Miranda pulled the covers over her head.





2


The ornate mirror reflected the full length figure of the woman, her fingers running over the pearl necklace.

“I don’t like it.”

“It belonged to my grandmother. These are black pearls,” Nikolaos said.

“No, it’s lovely,” Miranda removed the necklace. “I meant meeting him. We just arrived yesterday.”

“And he invited me to attend the salon today. You don’t refuse Darius.”

“I’m not used to it. In Nortre, our household is small. It’ll be so different. Besides, I’ll stand out in that dress.”

Nikolaos had to agree. Miranda’s dresses were pitiful and worn gowns. They would not do. He made a mental note to commission some appropriate garments.

“I’m surprised Lord Stesh lets you be seen like this,” he said, glancing at the yellow outfit the maid was now holding up for Miranda to inspect.

“What do you know about him?” she asked, her voice turning unkind.