Emriana sobbed, her face buried in her pillows. “He ever even talked to me about it!” Jaleene sat beside her charge, gently stroking her hair and trying to soothe the girl with soft sounds. “Your grandmother would never let this happen,” the handmaiden said. “When she finds out, she’ll put a stop to it.” Emriana sniffed and said, “Grandmother Hetta doesn’t seem to know what’s going on.” The thought occurred to her then that perhaps her grandmother was in agreement with Dregaul, that the two of them had made the decision together that she should marry Denrick. As ridiculous as that seemed, especially after the conversation the girl had had with the elderly woman only two short days before, the notion left a cold hole in the middle of her stomach. She began sobbing again, feeling like her world was crashing down around her. When Emriana had first pieced together what her uncle had announced, she didn’t believe it. She didn’t think that she was remembering correctly.
