20.Apr.18, 09:03 AM
Xyliah frowned, “I’m seventeen,” she said, eyebrows furrowed. “My birthing-day was last month.” She was older than any of her sisters when they had been married, and so considered herself rather shamefully unwanted until the arrangement had been made to wed her to Jalazmar. Her sisters had had their engagements pending for them since childhood. Of course, she’d been in the same position, though her previous future husband had been in an accident that had left him paralysed. Her parents had called that off, for which Xyliah was selfishly grateful; she didn’t want to spend her life that way.
Regardless, she was preparing to marry the man before her now, and as much as she was still quite sure he was an oaf, he appeared to be trying to apologise. She eyed him thoughtfully for a few moments, as he went on to explain himself, her lips pursed thoughtfully. She supposed she could forgive him; knowing nothing would be so much more stressful! She at least had been told his name and that he was the youngest of the Lord Holder’s sons. Plus Kaylira had been able to feed her some tidbits that she’s gleaned from Lord Therion…
“… Y-your brother?” she squeaked, her entire face lighting up in mortification, her eyes going wide as saucers as she stared up at Jalazmar in absolute horror. She’d called a Lord an oaf, a servant, oh great Faranth take her between she was never going to be rid of the embarrassment that was flooding her very soul. “I am so sorry, my lord, forgive me,” she gasped, on the verge of tears and dropped into a low curtsy, eyes downcast and hands trembling.
Regardless, she was preparing to marry the man before her now, and as much as she was still quite sure he was an oaf, he appeared to be trying to apologise. She eyed him thoughtfully for a few moments, as he went on to explain himself, her lips pursed thoughtfully. She supposed she could forgive him; knowing nothing would be so much more stressful! She at least had been told his name and that he was the youngest of the Lord Holder’s sons. Plus Kaylira had been able to feed her some tidbits that she’s gleaned from Lord Therion…
“… Y-your brother?” she squeaked, her entire face lighting up in mortification, her eyes going wide as saucers as she stared up at Jalazmar in absolute horror. She’d called a Lord an oaf, a servant, oh great Faranth take her between she was never going to be rid of the embarrassment that was flooding her very soul. “I am so sorry, my lord, forgive me,” she gasped, on the verge of tears and dropped into a low curtsy, eyes downcast and hands trembling.