Dreven City; Late Spring 1259
Mallory Manor
It was nearly noon by the time Duncan took his leave of Mara and Elise, re-dressing in the same clothes he'd worn the day before, clothing appropriate for that of his mother's funeral. Despite being hungry, he'd picked at his breakfast before taking his leave of the two women. Mara seemed worried for him, and he was worried himself, afraid of his father but determined to show that he would allow him to bully and browbeat and abuse him no longer. The house was strangely quiet as he stepped inside the manor, no greeting from the servants, very little activity whatsoever. He quietly moved about the first floor, poking his head into rooms to see where everyone had disappeared to.
He did not have to wonder for long where his father was, nor wonder why no one else was in sight. The familiar roar made itself known throughout that first floor, as much a warning as a summoning. "I don't care if you have to break down the door to every brothel in the city, find that boy and bring him here!"
Duncan cringed when he heard the all-too-familiar boom of his father's voice echoing through the halls of the manor house. He cringed but he did not go slinking off to his room, nor out of the house to hide in the stables or ride off to the cottage. He knew that would only make his father angrier. No, it was better to face the storm now and hope he could weather it. Even as terrified of the man as he was, he clenched his jaw in anger at the insinuation that he was still only a boy. He was well on his way to becoming a man, and he wanted his father, of all people, to know it. He heaved a deep breath and started in the direction of his father's voice.
Eric Mallory was in a foul temper. As Mara had predicted, he had spent the evening following his wife's funeral deep in his cups, and this morning had brought with it a hangover that had soured his already unpleasant disposition. Waking to find that his son had not returned home all night had not improved matters. His roaring fury originated in his study, from which a captain of the guard was visible marching at speed, his face crimson with anger of his own at the way the older man had spoken to him. No wonder there were no servants visible about their duties; everyone knew to stay away until the temper had subsided, if they could.
Everyone but Duncan, it seemed, who knew he was at least part of the source of his father's fury. He had always wished they could be closer, like they had been when he was a child, but no matter how much he'd tried to please the man, it never seemed to be. He hardly gave the guard a second glance, knowing the man would not stop to speak but him, but hurry on his way. No matter, the guard would not have to look far as the young master had already returned of his own accord. "I am here, Father," he said as he marched into his father's study. "There's no need to send out a search party."
The look his father gave him would have made many lesser men quail. There was real venom, almost hatred in the eyes that sought to pin the Mallory heir in place with fear of the patriarch who had such plans for him. "Where the hell have you been?" Mallory Senior snapped, not wasting time on worries. The boy looked rested and fed, no sign of illness about him. "Ran straight to your whore, did you?"
"I was with a friend," he replied, which was not really a lie, but told the older man only as much as he needed to know. He inwardly cringed at the word whore, wondering just how much his father had guessed or knew about his acquaintance with Mara. But instead of letting him intimidate him, he straightened to stand up to the man, straight and tall. At least I wasn't drowning my sorrows in serky, he thought, but held his tongue for the moment.
"You had a duty, sir, to be here." Eric's hand slammed down onto the desk beside him with a hard thump. "A duty to your family, to your mother's memory. But you don't care for duty, do you? You'd rather see your family name dragged through the mud than obey your father and be what you were born to be. Deirdre would have been a better child of this house than you are, boy. You are nothing but a disappointment." He sneered at his son, his eyes narrowing at the way Duncan stood straighter under his insults. "A friend, was it' Name."
"My duty, as you so put it, was to see my mother to put to rest. I did that. Am I not permitted to grieve her death in my own way?" he asked, trying desperately to make his father understand, but knowing it was useless. He'd tried so many times before without success. He flinched at the mention of Deirdre, as if he'd been struck by a blow. "What was I born to be, Father" Indebted to men who are no better than criminals" Who are only interested in power and greed" I will not be that man, and if it means disappointing you, then so be it."
"You will do as you are told, boy," his father snarled at him. "You have responsibilities, and I will not see you cast us down in your pride and arrogance. Your mother, rest her soul, was a good woman, but too gentle with you. I see that now. You will come to heel, or by the gods, I will make you!"
"She was a good woman who wanted me to make my own decisions about my life. I do not do this to defy you. I have every intention of accepting my birthright, but I will not earn my living by sucking up to the leeches that make up the Triad. If that makes me a bad son, then I'm sorry. I will take my leave of you and you will never have to worry about me again."
"And how will you support yourself, hmm' How will you pay your pretty little whore, when you have no more money than you can earn to feed and clothe yourself?" Eric Mallory could be harsh when he wanted to, worse when what he said seemed to make sense. "You have an opportunity to strike back at the Triad, to make an alliance that will give you - us - strength against them in time." He scowled at his son, knowing already that the stubborn child would not listen. "The contract is already signed. You will wed Leandra Del Sol on the eve of her sixteenth birthday."
"What?" If his father had wanted to hurt him, there were few ways better than this. Taken by surprise, this bit of news completely unexpected, and in the aftermath of his mother's funeral, Duncan stumbled back, his legs almost buckling beneath him. His face turned pale and he found himself shaking with anger and shock. "I will not marry that....that..." He held his tongue, holding back the word that wanted to be said. That bitch. "She's a Del Sol!"
"She wants you, and the Triad wants the match!" Eric roared back, advancing around the desk with one hand raised in a very clear warning. "The feud has taken too many lives, we cannot afford to lose you as well. You will marry her, you will bed her, you will get a belly on her, and once you have a son, you can kill her for all I care. But you will obey me!"
It wasn't even that so much. Had Mara been a Del Sol, he still would have loved her, but he held no such love for Leandra. Everyone knew there was something not right about Leandra, and though lovely she might be, he did not want to spend a single night in her company, much less an entire lifetime. The look on his face was one of pure shock, not even noticing the raised hand in warning. "Kill her?" he echoed, appalled. As much as he despised Leandra, he no reason to want her dead. Yet. "That would be murder."
"It would be politics. Worse has been done to women of higher station than she." His father scowled at him once again. "Grow up, boy. You are not some innocent whelp who knows nothing. You are my son. Behave in an appropriate manner."
There was a part of him that longed to accept, that longed to make his father happy, to please him and make him proud of him, but a loveless marriage to Leandra would only end in disaster for both of them, not to mention what it would do to Mara. "Father, I....I can't marry Leandra. I love another." He stammered a moment, his expression pleading with his father to understand. Hadn't he loved his mother once" Had it been so long ago' Had his heart hardened that much over the years"
It was nearly noon by the time Duncan took his leave of Mara and Elise, re-dressing in the same clothes he'd worn the day before, clothing appropriate for that of his mother's funeral. Despite being hungry, he'd picked at his breakfast before taking his leave of the two women. Mara seemed worried for him, and he was worried himself, afraid of his father but determined to show that he would allow him to bully and browbeat and abuse him no longer. The house was strangely quiet as he stepped inside the manor, no greeting from the servants, very little activity whatsoever. He quietly moved about the first floor, poking his head into rooms to see where everyone had disappeared to.
He did not have to wonder for long where his father was, nor wonder why no one else was in sight. The familiar roar made itself known throughout that first floor, as much a warning as a summoning. "I don't care if you have to break down the door to every brothel in the city, find that boy and bring him here!"
Duncan cringed when he heard the all-too-familiar boom of his father's voice echoing through the halls of the manor house. He cringed but he did not go slinking off to his room, nor out of the house to hide in the stables or ride off to the cottage. He knew that would only make his father angrier. No, it was better to face the storm now and hope he could weather it. Even as terrified of the man as he was, he clenched his jaw in anger at the insinuation that he was still only a boy. He was well on his way to becoming a man, and he wanted his father, of all people, to know it. He heaved a deep breath and started in the direction of his father's voice.
Eric Mallory was in a foul temper. As Mara had predicted, he had spent the evening following his wife's funeral deep in his cups, and this morning had brought with it a hangover that had soured his already unpleasant disposition. Waking to find that his son had not returned home all night had not improved matters. His roaring fury originated in his study, from which a captain of the guard was visible marching at speed, his face crimson with anger of his own at the way the older man had spoken to him. No wonder there were no servants visible about their duties; everyone knew to stay away until the temper had subsided, if they could.
Everyone but Duncan, it seemed, who knew he was at least part of the source of his father's fury. He had always wished they could be closer, like they had been when he was a child, but no matter how much he'd tried to please the man, it never seemed to be. He hardly gave the guard a second glance, knowing the man would not stop to speak but him, but hurry on his way. No matter, the guard would not have to look far as the young master had already returned of his own accord. "I am here, Father," he said as he marched into his father's study. "There's no need to send out a search party."
The look his father gave him would have made many lesser men quail. There was real venom, almost hatred in the eyes that sought to pin the Mallory heir in place with fear of the patriarch who had such plans for him. "Where the hell have you been?" Mallory Senior snapped, not wasting time on worries. The boy looked rested and fed, no sign of illness about him. "Ran straight to your whore, did you?"
"I was with a friend," he replied, which was not really a lie, but told the older man only as much as he needed to know. He inwardly cringed at the word whore, wondering just how much his father had guessed or knew about his acquaintance with Mara. But instead of letting him intimidate him, he straightened to stand up to the man, straight and tall. At least I wasn't drowning my sorrows in serky, he thought, but held his tongue for the moment.
"You had a duty, sir, to be here." Eric's hand slammed down onto the desk beside him with a hard thump. "A duty to your family, to your mother's memory. But you don't care for duty, do you? You'd rather see your family name dragged through the mud than obey your father and be what you were born to be. Deirdre would have been a better child of this house than you are, boy. You are nothing but a disappointment." He sneered at his son, his eyes narrowing at the way Duncan stood straighter under his insults. "A friend, was it' Name."
"My duty, as you so put it, was to see my mother to put to rest. I did that. Am I not permitted to grieve her death in my own way?" he asked, trying desperately to make his father understand, but knowing it was useless. He'd tried so many times before without success. He flinched at the mention of Deirdre, as if he'd been struck by a blow. "What was I born to be, Father" Indebted to men who are no better than criminals" Who are only interested in power and greed" I will not be that man, and if it means disappointing you, then so be it."
"You will do as you are told, boy," his father snarled at him. "You have responsibilities, and I will not see you cast us down in your pride and arrogance. Your mother, rest her soul, was a good woman, but too gentle with you. I see that now. You will come to heel, or by the gods, I will make you!"
"She was a good woman who wanted me to make my own decisions about my life. I do not do this to defy you. I have every intention of accepting my birthright, but I will not earn my living by sucking up to the leeches that make up the Triad. If that makes me a bad son, then I'm sorry. I will take my leave of you and you will never have to worry about me again."
"And how will you support yourself, hmm' How will you pay your pretty little whore, when you have no more money than you can earn to feed and clothe yourself?" Eric Mallory could be harsh when he wanted to, worse when what he said seemed to make sense. "You have an opportunity to strike back at the Triad, to make an alliance that will give you - us - strength against them in time." He scowled at his son, knowing already that the stubborn child would not listen. "The contract is already signed. You will wed Leandra Del Sol on the eve of her sixteenth birthday."
"What?" If his father had wanted to hurt him, there were few ways better than this. Taken by surprise, this bit of news completely unexpected, and in the aftermath of his mother's funeral, Duncan stumbled back, his legs almost buckling beneath him. His face turned pale and he found himself shaking with anger and shock. "I will not marry that....that..." He held his tongue, holding back the word that wanted to be said. That bitch. "She's a Del Sol!"
"She wants you, and the Triad wants the match!" Eric roared back, advancing around the desk with one hand raised in a very clear warning. "The feud has taken too many lives, we cannot afford to lose you as well. You will marry her, you will bed her, you will get a belly on her, and once you have a son, you can kill her for all I care. But you will obey me!"
It wasn't even that so much. Had Mara been a Del Sol, he still would have loved her, but he held no such love for Leandra. Everyone knew there was something not right about Leandra, and though lovely she might be, he did not want to spend a single night in her company, much less an entire lifetime. The look on his face was one of pure shock, not even noticing the raised hand in warning. "Kill her?" he echoed, appalled. As much as he despised Leandra, he no reason to want her dead. Yet. "That would be murder."
"It would be politics. Worse has been done to women of higher station than she." His father scowled at him once again. "Grow up, boy. You are not some innocent whelp who knows nothing. You are my son. Behave in an appropriate manner."
There was a part of him that longed to accept, that longed to make his father happy, to please him and make him proud of him, but a loveless marriage to Leandra would only end in disaster for both of them, not to mention what it would do to Mara. "Father, I....I can't marry Leandra. I love another." He stammered a moment, his expression pleading with his father to understand. Hadn't he loved his mother once" Had it been so long ago' Had his heart hardened that much over the years"