I hope you find the meal adequate, my lord.

"You burned it again," Lady Carla said.

Raina checked the bread. Black as the bottom of a pot. She took a new piece of dough, shaped it, and stuck it into the oven.

Raina was cooking for her husband-to-be. Today was her wedding day. She was supposed to serve her groom bread and goat testicles before the vows were said.

If he refused to eat, the wedding was off. If he turned away her food after less than five bites, the wedding was off. If he spat it out, the wedding was off.

It was a mere formality but Raina hoped that if she ruined the meal badly enough, Willarn Karkbhurg might just oblige her and call off the wedding altogether. Unluckily for Raina, her parents weren't taking any chances on that front.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Raina's mother asked.

"I don't want to marry him," Raina said.

"And yet you will. It's your duty. I didn't want to marry your father either. I loved another but I did as my father commanded and wed Nylarn. Do your duty to your husband and your family. Be a good wife and love will come. It happened to me and your father."

"Father didn't murder the man you loved."

"He didn't. But Sir Willarn didn't murder Robyr either. He gave him an honorable death in battle. There are no grounds for a blood feud. You should make your peace with it."

"That's easy for you to say," Raina asserted. "You don't have to marry the brute."

"He is not a brute," Lady Carla said. "Sir Willarn is a good man by all accounts. Chivalrous, well-spoken, and cultured. Your father wouldn't arrange for you to marry a man who would mistreat you."

"No. He just arranges one with the man who killed Robyr. Why can't he arrange another marriage?" Raina asked. "There are a dozen other houses he could ally with."

"None of the others are good options," Lady Carla explained. "They are either too weak or not interested. The two houses more powerful than the Karkbhurgs have no unmarried sons close to you in age. You would be the third wife to an old man. The Karkbhurgs are the most powerful house we can ally with right now. They're also in good standing with the chancellor. That helps your father avoid exile and stops you from being disinherited. With the Karkbhurg army at our disposal, we can reclaim our lost lands. We can even take back Lamania."

"So that's what this is all about?" Raina asked bitterly. "It's always about Lamania. It isn't about me. He doesn't care if I am miserable as long as he gets his precious city back."

Lamania was where the Lamanbhurgs got their name. An ancestor had founded it a thousand years earlier. It wasn't large as far as cities went, but it was the most precious of all Lamanbhurg possessions.

Lamania was a port town at the mouth of a river. This meant a lot of trade, and most importantly for the Lamanbhurgs: a lot of income from customs duties and docking fees.

But Raina's grandfather had lost Lamania some two decades earlier, conquered by a cousin of the king of Deltopolis, their southern neighbor. Nylarn Lamanbhurg had made it his life's mission to get the city back.

"It's not just about Lamania, Raina," Lady Carla insisted. "Your father wants it back for the honor of our house, yes. But our house also needs to survive. Your father backed the wrong side and the chancellor is never going to forget that. Our bannermen are threatening to rebel, the Reendeni keep encroaching on more of our land, and your cousin Laman is making noises about him being the rightful heir to the lordship over you."

"Laman has been making those same noises for years," Raina said.

"He has," Lady Carla agreed. "But he has never had a better chance of succeeding than he does now. He has been gathering allies and an army to press his claim as soon as your father dies. Many will back him. Laman has made overtures to the chancellor and has received certain assurances. If your father doesn't fall into line, Laman will come into his inheritance a lot sooner."

"That sounds gloomy," Raina complained.

"It is," her mother said. "Our army can't deal with all these threats. It was decimated in the war and your father can't entice any more men to fight for him even if he had the gold to pay them in the first place. The announcement of your union with Willarn Karkbhurg is the only thing keeping the vultures at bay. No one will dare attack us with them on our side. If it falls through, the sky will collapse upon our heads."

"That's why you're forcing me to get married?"

"Yes. And you need to produce a son. Quickly. With a male heir, our line will be safe from challenges for another generation. With Lamania, we will have the gold to rebuild our own army instead of relying on the Karkbhurgs forever."

Raina fumed but couldn't say anything. She had been raised to put family over self. "My ladies, they're coming!" a breathless cook shouted, interrupting their conversation.

Raina and her mother hurried to the window. From there, they watched Raina's groom ride into the castle atop a gigantic destrier.

Sir Willarn was flanked by his father, seven brothers, a hundred cousins, and a sprinkling of uncles. Raina's husband-to-be was dubbed Small Willy by his kinsmen because he was the shortest of the adult Karkbhurgs, standing at "only" six feet five inches—the same height as Big Roror.

The Karkbhurg women and children came next, delivered to the castle by a convoy of countless carriages. My in-laws, Raina thought with trepidation.

She had never stopped to think of just what a chore learning all their names would be. Until now. It made her want to run away again but her father had three guards watching her at all times now. The thought of Ervin also made her pause. She squelched the guilt and went back to her cooking.

Raina's wedding was a splendid affair. Everyone had come. Their neighbors, her father's vassals, an envoy from the Reendeni king of Deltopolis, and even her cousin Laman Lamanbhurg.

"I wish you good fortune, cousin," Laman said as Raina walked past him toward her groom.

Raina returned her second cousin's blessing but she doubted he meant anything he said. Laman's grandfather—another Laman Lamanbhurg—had been a drunk, a weakling, and a wastrel. For these and a lengthy list of other character failings, he was disinherited in favor of his younger brother Baxtyrn, Raina's grandfather. This decision was applauded by everyone.

Old Laman hadn't cared. He whored, gambled, and drank his way to an early death, staggering head-first into a tub of wine at a party. His drinking buddies thought it was just another one of his many games. By the time they pulled him out, he had already drowned.

But somewhere in the midst of his twenty-year-drinking binge, Old Laman found the time to get married and produce a son, who produced a son. These two, more sober and less stupid, had always claimed the lordship Old Laman was denied.

Nylarn Lamanbhurg's failure to produce a son who lived past infancy had only intensified their claims. The chancellors up in Confluencia encouraged these pretensions, using the claims of Laman and his father as a cudgel to beat Raina's father into submission.

Raina turned her mind from her father's political headaches and back to Willarn Karkbhurg, sitting on a three-legged stool at the front of the shrine. She held a covered platter in her hands. As she walked towards him, people wished her well. These wishes didn't seem to help. Every new step Raina took was harder than the previous one. But finally, she arrived.

Raina might have been taken in by her groom's symmetrical face, square jaw, lively gray eyes, and lean musculature if she didn't loathe him so much.

He watched her with a playful smile as she knelt at his feet and set the platter in front of him. She washed his hands and said a prayer before taking the covering off the platter. On it was a steaming loaf of bread and stewed goat testicles. Raina had prepared the meal herself under the watchful eye of her mother and two cooks.

Raina said the old words, "I hope you find the meal adequate, my lord." She hoped he didn't but there was little hope of that happening.

Willarn Karkabhurg nodded at her, broke the bread, dipped it in the stew, and took a bite. Then another. Raina counted the bites. Five bites and they would say their vows. Any less and the wedding was off. One, two, three, four…

Worried muttering drew Raina's attention to the entrance of the shrine. A surprise visitor had elected to attend her wedding, the most powerful man in the kingdom, Yohram Rymanus Luchebhurg, the Lord Chancellor and Regent of Rhexia.

With him, the chancellor had brought the second most powerful man in the kingdom—the actual king—Caedmyr XIII— a boy of twelve.

The war that had killed Robyr had been fought between the boy king and his older half-brother over their father's succession.

Young Caedmyr's mother was the queen and his father's first wife. Young Caedmyr's brother, Daenor, was ten years older but Daenor's mother was the dead king's second and therefore lesser wife. Custom favored Young Caedmyr. Precedent and practicality favored his grown-up half-brother.

Arguments had been made in favor of both sides but in the end, it had come down to swords. The boy's army had won and his uncle, Yohram Luchebhurg, assumed the chancellorship and the regency, set to rule until his nephew turned twenty.

Seeing the chancellor and the king at her wedding sent a chill down Raina's spine. The Lamanbhurgs had fought against the boy king and Yohram Luchebhurg was a ruthless and unforgiving man.

The last time he turned up unannounced at a wedding had been a month ago. He brought an army and executed half the attendees on unspecified allegations of treason. Both the bride and groom's families had fought against the boy king. But he wouldn't do that here, would he? The Karkbhurgs had fought on his side.

Raina looked around and saw the same worried looks on the faces of many present. Her trembling mother held tightly onto her father with the beginnings of tears snaking their way down her cheeks.

The shrine got deathly quiet as Lord Yohram, King Caedmyr, and their entourage made their way up the nave to the front of the shrine. All that could be heard were their footfalls on the stone floor. And heavy breathing.

Willarn Karkbhurg's brothers yielded their seats to the chancellor and his entourage. The whole room exhaled as one when Lord Yohram sat himself down. "Please proceed," the chancellor said.

Willarn Karkbhurg went back to eating while everyone watched. He took the fifth bite to polite clapping, then a sixth, a seventh, an eighth, on and on, until he cleared his plate. "That was an excellent meal, my lady," he said, cleaned his hands, and knelt beside Raina.

Raina and Sir Willarn recited their vows in unison while a priestess of Aeduia and all those gathered looked on:

I vow to take you into my house

To make your kin my kin

Your friends my friends

And your foes my foes

I vow to do this

Until the end of my days

I swear by the Almighty Aephyr

Guardian of my eternal soul

I swear by Aeduia and Aembaur

The earth and the sky

And I swear by Aemlilon and Aemeia

The sun and the moon

The priestess wrote down their oath on a scrap of parchment and then handed them a dagger. Raina pricked her ring finger and dabbed a droplet of blood onto the parchment. Her groom did the same. The priestess burnt the parchment in a brazier, mixed the ashes with a cup of holy water, took a sip, and then handed it to Raina.

The oathing water felt like a block of ice inside Raina's body. It traveled past her throat, through her chest, and finally settled in her stomach. This is it, she thought. There's no turning back now.

She handed the cup to her groom, who also took a sip, binding the oath and formally becoming Raina's lord and husband.

Raina's parents and Sir Willarn's parents took sips of the oathing water as well. Then Willarn Karkbhurg took her in his arms and carried her out of the shrine. Everyone else marched behind them.

Raina looked into her husband's face as she bobbed in his arms four feet above the ground. He was grinning like a fool. "I never dreamed I would wed such a beautiful bride, my lady Raina," he said.

Raina said nothing. He gave her a curious look. "Is it bridal jitters or are you a mute? I could swear I heard you talking back there. Were you talking or was I imagining things?"

"I am not a mute!" Raina spat.

He smiled an annoying smile. "That clarifies a few things. But are you sure that's the kind of tone you want to use with your lord husband? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, soft-spoken? Loving?"

Once again, Raina glared at him and said nothing. He smiled another roguish smile as he plopped her onto a chair in the feasting hall and sat himself next to her. "Don't worry, my lady. I'll make you love me."

"You won't," Raina said.

Annoyingly, he smiled again. "You do know I like a challenge, don't you? Jousting, breaking a wild horse, killing Vaechians, charming an angry woman…" he trailed off and stared deep into her eyes.

"You think you're charming?" Raina asked, cramming as much incredulity into her voice as she could.

Willarn Karkbhurg shrugged. "I don't think it. I am merely repeating the well-informed opinions of several women."

"You must have me mistaken for one of your whores."

He shied back. "I sincerely apologize for that mistake, my lady. I only had to pledge myself and my father's army to your father for a chance to take you to bed. That, of course, is totally different from whoring. Please forgive me for getting the two mixed up."

Raina's entire body twitched with rage. She wanted to slap that smug smile off his face. She wanted to slap him until that overlarge head of his resembled a mashed melon. But there were a thousand people watching.

The chancellor, mercifully, intervened. "Forgive me, my lady Raina," Yohram Luchebhurg said. "I have to steal away your husband for while."

Raina nodded her assent as if she had any choice in the matter. The two men walked away and huddled at a table that also sat Raina's father, three of his bannermen, the boy king, a smattering of Karkbhurgs, and half a dozen other noblemen. They seemed to be deep in a serious discussion but Raina didn't know what it was. Strategically placed guards turned away anyone who approached the table.

On other tables, the feasting went on uninterrupted. Singers, dancers, and contortionists entertained the guests to loud applause but Raina paid little attention to them. Mostly, she held a series of polite conversations with an endless stream of Karkbhurgs, each one more forgettable than the last.

Raina barely ate or drank, her eyes focused instead on the plotters' table whenever some wedding guest or another wasn't clamoring for her attention. Her mother and her aunt kept trying to cheer her up and kept failing. It was nearly sundown when the plotters disbanded.

Yohram Luchebhurg made a speech about healing past wounds and reconquering lost territories then excused himself. It was only then that Raina's husband came back to her.

"What were you plotting over there?"

"They were just giving me tips on how to charm an angry woman," he said with a wink.

Raina felt a now-familiar feeling bubbling up inside her: rage. He seemed to read her mood, putting up a finger and acting scared. "I didn't say it was you," he said. "I never mentioned any names."

"Do you take me a fool, Sir Willarn?" Raina asked.

"Not at all, my lady. I already took you for a wife."

As Raina huffed and puffed, he continued, "There's no need for all that formality. You can call me 'my love.' If that's too much, use Willy. Or Small Willy, as my family does."

"Why do they call you Small Willy?" an angry Raina asked, feigning ignorance. "Is it because you have a small willy?"

"Small?" Willarn Karkbhurg laughed. "That's an overstatement. The proper term is tiny. It disappears into the thicket if I don't shave my pubic hair."

He used the thumb and forefinger of his left hand to grip his right hand's little finger just above the second knuckle. "It's this tiny," he said. "Half an inch shy of an inch. You won't even know I'm there when I consummate this marriage."

An open-mouthed Raina glared at him, so angry she was sure she had smoke pouring out of her ears. "Time for the naked dance!" a half-drunk Karkbhurg howled as if on cue.

A gaggle of Karkbhurg women swarmed Raina, giggling as they hoisted her onto their shoulders and started tearing her clothes off. The men similarly swarmed Sir Willarn.

While her husband endured his disrobement with grace, Raina struggled and screamed. It didn't help. The Karkbhurg women were too many and too strong. They carried her above their heads as if she weighed nothing, shrieking like demons and cracking very unladylike jokes as they undressed her. After what felt like an eternity, they deposited Raina, naked and shivering in the bedding chamber.

The room was large and airy. Embers glowed in a fireplace by an open window. Darkness was falling outside but the room was lit by the soft glow of two dozen scented candles.

At the center of the room was a narrow featherbed with rose petals strewn upon it. The bed was only wide enough to sleep one person. This was on purpose. Newlyweds were expected to spend their wedding night atop each other. Raina shivered and hugged herself.

The door burst open and her husband was pushed in, just as naked as she was. The door banged closed, leaving them alone. Willarn Karkbhurg smiled at Raina from across the room. Only three paces separated them.

"What an excellent specimen of womanhood you are, my darling wife," he said, eyes hungrily traveling up and down her body.

Raina did the same, trying to hide her fear. Her eyes paused at his crotch, and thereupon, his penis.

It wasn't the tiny thing he had joked about. It was a monster hanging halfway down his thighs. As she looked at it, it stirred, stiffened, and lengthened. Raina turned to run but ran into a wall.