Chapter 4

11/13/1852 Town: Thornwell In which Letha meets Aristeo.

Letha no longer remembered who she had imagined as her suitor a month ago, but she had never imagined the elders could be so cruel. She was sure of that much.

She hadn't eaten at all on her seventeenth birthday, for it was hardly a week before she met her future husband. She had waited for nearly three hours in the inner courtyard of the Hall of Elders to be courted, not allowed to stand or talk until her suitor was there, which left her simply staring at the wall in mind-numbing silence. She had come up with so many possible scenarios for what sort of man her husband might be; a butcher, a grandfather, a man with only one leg and no arms, perhaps the barracks murderer for all she knew... none were as bad as what she received.

With no warning or greeting, the doors to the courtyard opened and a young man with snow dusting his coat and top hat was pushed into the room. He didn't look at her, hanging his coat and hat on the coat rack and quietly taking a seat in front of her. At first they faced each other perfectly, but the boy moved his

just a bit to the side; simply to annoy her, she was sure.

He was lanky, his skin reasonably clear for his age... Letha knew he was only a few months older than her. He was pale as milk, his dark brown hair flowing down to his shoulders and looking as if he'd cut it himself... she had a strong sense that he really had. His clothing was gaudy, an intricately decorated brocade vest with a poet's shirt underneath and that primitive belt of bleached bones tied with string hung around his hips. His dark eyes were glaring at her, his arms crossed in part just to show his expensive rings, as she could tell from how all of his fingers were in her view.

Even five years later, she made no mistake in who this disgrace of a human being was. And she had no intention of even speaking to him, much less marrying him.

Silence fell over them for what felt like hours, yet it could not have been more than a few minutes. Letha kept her head high, her legs straight and her hands placed neatly on her lap, and soon her muscles began to cramp. Aristeo barely had the courtesy to make eye contact, and simply glanced around the room as if there was anything to look at but her. As if there was any escape from this.

After centuries had passed, he looked up and his sour glare met hers.

"Your face is going to get stuck like that."

"I could say the same, but in your case it would be an improvement." She shot back.

Oh, she could tell this was going to be a very pleasant meeting. The silence came back, and she found herself fidgeting and completely unsure of what to do. It would be so much easier if he didn't insist on being absolutely horrid, just sitting there and staring at her...

She decided she would have to be the mature one, and break the ice first.

"I hear you've been having fun..." She started, "Being a burden to the family."

Aristeo's family constantly fussed about him, and she heard it all the time when she cared to hear about him. Sometimes even when she didn't. He only spoke to the dead, he always threw temper tantrums even at the age of seventeen, and she'd heard he'd even invited a servant to tea with him, simply to avoid his elder sister. And every opportunity he got, he always spoke out against the rule of the elders, no doubt simply to call attention to himself. As far as she could tell he existed only to oppose the laws of decent society.

...On the other hand, that gave her a bit of pride to think of. She was clearly being given to him to see if she could fix him.

"I hear you've been having fun being a stupid hateful hag."

Nevermind. She didn't care what good intentions the elders had. She began keeping herself calm with the thought of burning this building to the ground.

"I rather enjoy it, actually," she replied spitefully, "Are you capable of anything pleasant, or am I going to have to assume you're more of an idiot than I've already been told?"

Aristeo opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, "In case you haven't noticed, there's no way out of this. Safe from getting yourself killed... Which I wouldn't mind much, myself. Anyway, you can make this hard or easy for yourself. I won't be helping you."

His face contorted with indignation, and she fancied for a moment that she'd cowed him into submission, until he found the words to speak again. "I would wish for you to be killed, but that wouldn't change a thing... The only difference is that I wouldn't even be able to escape you in the Netherworld. And I'd be saddled with another living wife as well."

He still wouldn't be able to escape her in the Netherworld, she knew. She was just as capable a necromancer as him, if not more. But for her own sanity, she knew she would never seek him out.

"My, how utterly unpleasant." She teased all the same, "Perhaps I'll have to die after all."

Her eyes narrowed, just to drive the threat in a little deeper, and she swore she saw a moment of distress in his eyes.

"For your information, I'm capable of being pleasant," Aristeo hissed, "I merely don't see why I should be pleasant towards you. You're going to be my wife either way. Do you expect me to court you like some fairy tale prince?"

Her voice became cold in response, "This isn't a temporary arrangement, dear cousin, it is lifelong. If you continue to act like this I will fight back, so you'd best behave yourself if you'd like your extremities intact. I'm only warning you so that you might make this a softer blow to yourself."

And really, she was handing him the keys to a happy marriage on a silver platter. Would it be so hard for him to shut his trap, pay attention and let her take charge?

Well, perhaps not. She could see his eyes widening, the stubborn look sinking from his face. But he tried, how he tried, to keep his facade of superiority. "The elders wouldn't let you maim me."

A bold claim, yet his voice trembled. And Letha doubted they would care much... he didn't need all of his limbs to father children.

"I think they would see it as a blessing, should you wake up without the ability to speak." She cocked her head to the side as she spoke, regarding her future husband like a piece of meat, "And if you were to blame me, I would say it was self-defense. I do have a bit more leverage with them than you, seeing as I am a respectable person and you are... you."

He bit his lip, glanced away... but he hadn't given up just yet. "Of course your words hold more sway with them... you're just another of the elders' obedient lapdogs! That you would marry me proves it. How did they buy your affection?"

"With my own intelligence." she retorted, "There's no sense starting a war that's been rigged against me. My life is easy, and it will continue to be easy so long as I do what they want of me."

It wasn't easy, living the way she had chosen. But she would be damned if she admitted it to him.

"Now tell me, what would be easier? Marrying you, and cowing you into submission as you deserve, or refusing and suffering the same fate as you regardless? Personally, I don't plan to give myself that sort of trouble, and I will not drag our children into such a pathetic life."

Her throat burned at the mention of children. She was really going to have to have children with this inconsiderate dolt... why on earth had she chosen this over death?

"You are a symbol of everything that is wrong with our clan." Aristeo sneered, though she could feel his bravery waning, "The cowering obedience, and the unquestioning loyalty to people who see us as nothing but their property. I have to obey, but at least I make them work for my obedience!"

"Yes, and look where that's gotten you!" She spat back, "Forced into those gaudy clothes, by the looks, and locked in this damn room with me as if it matters if we like each other! Having not even the slightest say in your future, no room to move, not even a mention of why you do anything you're asked to do! You claim it is so hard being like you, when you bring all this on yourself! My easy obedience gives me leverage and credibility, and at least my mother has never regretted me being born! You are a vile, inarticulate cockroach who will only be respected when you are dead, for keeping anyone from wanting to be in the Netherworld too long! And because of you, I'm going to lose my status and my freedom and everything I've worked for my entire life! So don't you dare imply I enjoy being a blasted lapdog!"

Aristeo had leapt from his seat in shock, the chair clattering to the floor as he stumbled over it, shoulders heaving with barely suppressed fury and hands curled into fists at his side. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You know nothing about me or how I feel or what I think!"

Letha could barely contain her own anger, but she did. She was cold, and still, and she seethed quietly in her chair. But Aristeo fled to slam a window open and stare out of it dramatically. She hoped she would fall out of it, but she supposed it was too tall for it. Even at his height, nearly a foot taller than herself, the window ledge was comfortably at waist height.

"Get back here and sit down, you sniveling child." She muttered coldly, "It doesn't matter what you think, it matters how you act. The elders expect you to court me. Or at least make my time worthwhile. Turning your back on me is just going to hurt you, I will make sure of that."

She rose from her seat as she spoke, and stalked closer to him. He turned, and pressed against the ledge as she came to lean against it beside him.

"And regardless of what you think you're doing, I can assure you that you are only being petty and rude, and there will be consequences if you continue. If you like having all of your toes, I'd suggest you settle down and act like an adult for once. If not..." She growled coldly, "Accidents are so common these days.. have I made myself clear?"

She could see Aristeo's argument dying in his throat, and his adam's apple bobbed nervously as he regarded her. She fancied herself giving him the look that Laurentia had always given her, cold and dangerous and full of a hatred that did not require a reason.

Finally he took a shaky breath, and raised his chin stubbornly, "Don't expect flowers."

"Don't expect bandages." She replied.

Another silence passed, but for Letha it was welcome and comfortable. Aristeo watched her as a mouse watches a cat, waiting for her to find some way to kill him. It was nearly enough of a treat to compensate for the long road ahead of them.

"Now be a good boy and sit down." She moved behind him, grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away from the window, back to the center of the room. "Now that your life belongs to me, we may as well try to get along."

Aristeo was by this point thoroughly done with being difficult, and when she released him he shuffled back to pick up his chair and sit in it without a word to her. Why, one could mistake him for an animated corpse for all the obedience he showed, and Letha couldn't help waving her hands behind him like a peasant girl pretending to be a necromancer.

He looked back at her, and she dropped her hands to flash him a brilliant smile.

"My life doesn't belong to you." He grumbled, "You aren't marrying a peasant, I'm as much a proper necromancer as you."

"Necromancy won't save you from a pair of scissors, dear." She chirped, "They're not particularly useful for cutting bone, but a knife would be a little too piteous."

She couldn't bare to be so cruel in action, even to a boy like him, but he didn't need to know that. It was enough to see him squirming in his seat, feebly fighting to preserve his dignity as she asserted herself.

"It is now my job to take care of you until you're mature enough to make your own decisions. As long as you do what I want when I want it, we won't have much of a problem." She walked up behind him and leaned down over his shoulder to smile at him, "But I think I'm going to enjoy this, if this is how you submit under pressure. Are you not used to reality, Aristeo?"

Aristeo cowered at her breath on his skin, and Letha felt disturbingly satisfied. "You're crazy. The elders have given me into the hands of a madwoman!"

"I'm not mad!" She stopped herself, and narrowed her eyes, "Though it shows you how much respect they have for you, doesn't it. But I'm not mad, I'm productive. If you can't listen to someone who begs you to behave, you will listen to someone who will not hesitate to hurt you if you misbehave. Do you understand me?"

He had begun to shake, half with anger and half with fear, and he nodded, "You have made your position quite clear, Letha. I see that you are just like the rest of them... worse, maybe."

She thought he would leave it at that, but he had one last struggle to give her.

"You will make a fine Regis, I'm sure."

Letha narrowed her eyes, and shoved her body against his chair. The boy toppled to the floor with a yelp, and she could hear a sharp smack as his head hit the stones.

For a moment, he feared he would bleed. She couldn't allow him to bleed, or she would surely be locked away no matter what her reason was. But he sat up with merely a sore-looking bump on his head, and touched it gingerly before grimacing, "I hate you."

She sighed, and with a wave of worry crashing over her she couldn't stop a bit of friendly advice from leaving her mind. "If only you'd been born a woman, you would have learned sooner that it doesn't matter whether you hate anything. It will never matter. But- but I am giving you as many rights as I can afford to at the moment, you can at least be grateful for that."

Aristeo groaned tried to get to his feet, and Letha couldn't help moving closer to help him up. He continued to glare at her, "I don't hate marrying, I just hate marrying a wench who despises me... All I want is a woman who won't be a pest."

"And all I want is a man who doesn't have a death wish, but it seems we can't all have what we want, can we?" She held his gaze until he looked away, "At least you're getting the longer end of the stick here... But I suppose you're not the worse I could have. Even if you are more of a wife than a husband. Tell me, can you cook?"

"I can, if you must know..." Aristeo's words had become cautious, untrustworthy. "My mother insisted I learn... but that doesn't mean I'll ever cook for you. That's a woman's job."

"I could drop you."

He looked her over, and she made sure not to show a speck on insincerity. After a moment's consideration, he pursed his lips and leaned against her arm. It would be impossible to explain to anyone exactly how she had tamed Aristeo Regis, she had lost track of the conversation somewhere along with her temper, but at least he was quiet now. At least, for now, she knew she could have as much freedom as she liked. And if it risked Aristeo's masculinity... that was a price she was willing to pay.