Ch.1.3: Unchanging Fate

"Oh, that letter is nothing but rubbish. Give it here, would you?" The count reached out his thin hand for the letter, but Lianna held onto it. "It's just another demand for repayment," he continued, his voice taking on a pleading tone despite his attempt at nonchalance. "So, give it here, and I'll put it away." He tried to cover up his slip by sounding exasperated, but Lianna could see how his hand shook.

Though Lianna already knew the basics of what the letter contained, she made a show of opening it and scanning it. Paragraphs of flowery language in neat penmanship sprawled down the page. Poetic phrases expressing an adoration for her left her feeling ill, and promises of easing their family's debt filled her with anger. Her grip on the page was so tight that it creased. But she'd shown that she now knew what was in the letter. Her father couldn't hide it any longer.

When she looked back up at her father, his outstretched hand was now clenched into a fist, and his face had become even paler than usual. He let his hand fall back into his lap as a coughing fit overtook him. When it ended, he laid back in his bed, looking exhausted. Closing his eyes, he said, "We can't refuse him. Worrying about it now won't help us any. We have until your debut after you come of age. He says he'll treat you well and that we may see some of the debt forgiven." His voice choked up as he said the last sentence.

"Father, you know the duke won't actually do what he promises. I'll be nothing but a plaything–a mistress with no rights and no power. He'll toss me away when he gets bored, and he'll still demand repayments from us. There will only be one less person to take care of you and Aaron. He won't be satisfied until he has rung and bled us dry."

Lianna felt tears stinging her eyes. But even as she voiced her doubts, she couldn't think of any way to keep this future from playing out. Bursting into her fathers room and reading the letter was something she hadn't done in her visions, but it had done nothing to change their situation.

"Lia, my dear. I wish I had the power to change this. I truly do. But if I don't comply with that letter, an even worse fate will await us. This ailing body and our mountain of debt won't let me protect you and Aaron any longer. The most we can do is bide time." The lifelessness in her father's voice wrapped around Lianna's chest and squeezed until she felt she could barely take a full breath past the anxiety and despair that she was barely holding back.

With her jaw clenched so hard it ached, Lianna walked to her father's night stand and placed the letter inside its drawer. "I won't stop trying to think of a way out of this…for all of us, Father. I know there has to be something."

Her father shook his head. "You think I haven't tried to get out from under the duke's thumb already? If there were an option that would absolve our debt and gain us protection from the duke, I would grasp it and not let go no matter if the rope was dangling over a pit of snakes. But no such rope exists, Lia. Brendwald has servants and allies everywhere. There's no one we can trust to help us."

Lianna looked at the floor, unable to witness the blatant grief on her father's face. "Still…," she said softly. But there was no point in saying more. Louder, she said, "I'll send up Benjamin with your food and medicine and go check on Aaron."

Coughing overtook her father once more, and she slipped out of the room. She held it together long enough to deliver her message to the chef and to make sure Aaron was alright as he tagged along with Harrace. When she was free of those tasks and alone in her room, she could hold her composure no longer.

Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks in hot trails. Her father was dying, she knew that, but it wasn't the reason she cried. She looked down at her hands. Even her gift was no use against a failure of the body itself–her past attempts had taught her that much–and since his death was inevitable, she would give anything to give her father a peaceful passing, not one locked in despair and grief. She didn't want him to die thinking that he'd left his daughter and son in a personal hell of the duke's making.

But what could be done? Her own despair was on her heels, but she still clung to her denial. She couldn't acknowledge that fate. She would think of anything, but perhaps her own, limited perspectives weren't enough. She'd never once been able to change the small bits of future she had seen. What use was knowing if she couldn't do anything to change the outcome? Surely there had to be a way. But perhaps there was simply something missing from her understanding.

She sniffed and scrubbed her cheeks with the heel of her hand, grimacing at the tear stains that she and Charlona would have to wash out of her sleeves and pillow case. She sorted through her thoughts.

*Tomorrow, I will ask discreetly for other perspectives and news from outside the county. Perhaps someone will know something that can lead me to an answer.*

She would go into town. It was an action she hadn't seen herself take in her visions, though there was still the possibility that it might not matter. She shook her head. No, perhaps there was hope, even if only in the unknown.