#angsty one

Nesta sat in her usual chair, poring over yet another book. “Father seems to be in an uncommonly good mood this morning, just so you are warned,” she said. 

Feyre and Elain exchanged a wary glance. “I do hope he has not done anything rash,” Elain muttered.

“Rash? Father never does anything rash,” Feyre drawled, sarcasm lacing her words. 

All three of them stifled their snickers when Father walked into the room. “Good morning, my dears!” he beamed. The sisters shot concerned glances at each other. “I have some news,” Father continued.

“What news?” Elain asked, the picture of a doting daughter.

“Some wonderful news concerning our Feyre.”

Feyre straightened up in her chair, the smile dropping off her face. “Oh?”

“You are to be married, my darling!” Father grinned. “To Lord Fréijoer.”

The color leached from Feyre’s face. “Absolutely not.” Her hands tightened into fists in her lap.

“You are aware that this is your only option, daughter.” Father’s voice turned authoritarian, his joviality fading. “You know full well why you must marry him.”

“I shall not marry him, and that is absolutely final!”

“You have no say in this matter, daughter! He has compromised your honour and therefore there is only one solution! Unless, of course, you wish me to demand satisfaction, which will surely end in my death and you and your sisters leaving society in disgrace. Do you truly wish that fate upon any of us?”

Feyre tried in vain to calm her rapid breathing and raging temper. “No, Father, I do not wish that fate upon our family.”

“You see, then--”

“Nor do I wish to marry that man.” Her tone was hard, her expression fierce. “He may look the portrait of a fine lord, but I myself have borne witness to his uncouth behaviour with young ladies in employment and his tendencies toward physical violence when he is upset.”

“Young ladies in employment have chosen their position in life, daughter, and what they choose to do with men above their station is none of your concern. Furthermore, no one shall believe the word of a proper young lady that a good man like Lord Fréijoer is in anything but good standing. I myself am inclined to believe that you will say anything you believe shall get you out of marriage to this man.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed and her tone went utterly flat. “Father, I am disappointed that you believe so little of me. Did you yourself not educate and encourage my sisters and I to look at every facet of a person before forming an opinion of their character?”

“You do not need to examine Lord Tamlin’s character. I have already done so and found him suitable. He desires a wife and his eye has settled upon you, he is a gentleman of honour who has asked for your hand, and you shall marry him.” Baron Archeron’s voice brooked no refusal. “I gave him my word.”

“Whatever happened to ‘My daughters may speak for their own hearts?’” Feyre asked. “Whatever happened to finding a love match?” Her restraint quivered, allowing a slight waver into her voice.

Her father sighed, running a hand over his balding head. “What happened was debt, my dear, and enough of it owed to Lord Tamlin. I have not the funds to pay him in full, but he promised me that he would forgive the balance if he could marry you.”

“So I am a payment?” Outrage crept across Feyre’s face. “You would rather see your daughter handed over to some lord purely to settle a debt than admit you have insufficient funds and ask to extend the deadline of repayment?”

“I cannot collect any more funds! My ships are not returning and my business in town has inexplicably slowed tenfold. Even if I were to have all the year, I could not pay him enough. He demands payment, in full, with interest, for the ship his company built me.” The baron looked directly into his daughter’s eyes. “Please, Feyre, can you understand my dilemma?”

“Understanding does not make accepting your decision on my behalf easier, Father.” And Feyre left, hurried upstairs, and shut herself in her bedroom. Elain went after her.

Father slumped into his chair. “Do not look at me like that, Nesta.”

Nesta closed her book, tugged her chair over to Father’s side, and placed her hand atop his. “Why did you not tell us that you were facing debts, Father?” she asked softly. 

“I did not want to worry you,” he admitted.

Nesta scoffed. “We are not children, Father. We understand finances and debt perfectly well. Did you not ensure that we were taught to balance the ledgers?”

The baron sighed heavily. “Indeed I did. I…I admit I was ashamed to tell you that my business had been failing and that my debts were ever rising.”

“Where does Lord Tamlin factor into this?”

“Well, as I mentioned, his company built me a ship, and he is demanding full payment. That ship set out on the last run. None of the ships from that run have returned, and they should have by now. I do not know what is happening.” Father’s head dropped into his hands. “I suspect piracy, but I cannot find any evidence of foul play.”

“How many ships went out?”

“Five. All of them have armaments, of course, though they are merchant ships.”

Nesta’s brows furrowed. “And they disappeared without a trace, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Her mind was whirling with possibilities. “I am sure you will find out what happened. In the meantime, I am going to go speak with my sisters.” She gave Father’s arm a squeeze and left the room.

Upstairs, Nesta knocked gently on Feyre’s door. “Who’s there?” came her sister’s muffled voice.

“It is Nesta.”

The door creaked open. Nesta walked in and handed the plate of biscuits she’d swiped from the kitchen to Feyre, whose eyes were red and puffy. Feyre set the plate down and hugged Nesta fiercely. They sat down on the floor, joining Elain. “All right, talk to us, Fey.”

“I cannot marry him” Feyre breathed. “I am only seventeen, and he is a cold bastard.”

“We know that,” Elain commented dryly. “I was more interested in the thing Father said about him ‘compromising your honour.’” 

Crimson blazed across Feyre’s cheekbones. “You mean him kissing me in the gardens?”

Nesta’s jaw dropped. She snapped it shut. “Explain, please?”

Feyre sighed. “At the Glyndon ball, he had danced with me, and when I said I wanted some air, he walked with me out into the gardens. We went into the labyrinth, and before I could realize what was going on, he was kissing me. Multiple times. And Father found us.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “Did anyone else see?”

“I do not believe so. But Father was not happy, and honestly, I would not be surprised if he wanted this to happen so he could marry me off and get his fucking money.” Feyre sniffled. 

“He owes quite a large sum to Lord Tacky Waistcoats,” Nesta remarked, handing Feyre a handkerchief. 

“Which is why I suspect this was a plot.” Feyre wiped her nose. “I am not property to be sold off.”

“No, you are not.” Elain wrapped an arm around Feyre’s shoulders. “And you shall not be sold off. Not if we can help it.”

Nesta scooted in on the other side of Feyre. “Absolutely.”

Feyre hugged both her sisters. “I do not know what I would do without you.”

“Rhysand Selvari, probably,” Elain muttered. 

Feyre coughed, her cheeks flaring red. “Lainy!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

“You are awful,” Feyre grumbled, her blush deepening. “But I love you anyway.”

“We love you too, Fey.”

~

Elain walked into Baron Archeron’s study late that evening. “You wanted to see me, Father?”

He looked up from his desk. “Yes, I did. There is something I need to tell you.”

She closed the door and sat down in the chair opposite him. “Tell me.”

“I…I did not handle this well at breakfast this morning, and for that I apologize. So I shall try to phrase it more elegantly now.”

“Is this about Feyre’s marriage?” Elain was confused.

“No, Lainy, it is about yours.”

Her mind went blank. “Mine?”

“Let me explain. I have not arranged anything for you. However, you have the full attention of His Royal Highness, as you know. He has visited you every day this week, has danced with you, and sends you flowers and letters. He is a prince, Elain, and he is completely smitten with you.”

“Whatever does this have to do with marriage?”

“You must secure a betrothal to His Highness.”

“Must I?” Elain crossed her arms over her chest. “And why is this?”

“Because I am still in debt,” Father admitted. “The sum I owe Lord Fréijoer is only part of my debts, albeit the majority. But if you become engaged to His Highness, the bridal price could save us from ruin.”

“Allow me to repeat this all and make sure I understand,” Elain bit out, her voice tight. “You wish me to marry Prince Dorian not because he is a good man who is in love with me, but because he is a prince with a massive fortune who can pay off your debts?”

Father blinked. “Well, yes, I suppose that is the gist of it.” 

Elain drilled her eyes into him. “Mother would be disappointed.” Without another word, she left.

Baron Archeron closed his books and dropped his head onto the desk. I am so sorry, Lillian. So sorry. But it is the only way.

~

Dorian made his way to the park the next morning, passing Lady Elisa Selvari and Lord Fenrys Strahl taking a stroll and obviously enjoying each other’s company and conversation, found the Archerons, and took Elain walking as they had become accustomed to doing. It did not take him long to realize that something was wrong, that Elain was quiet and tense. “Is something wrong, Elain?”

“So many things,” she mumbled, then pressed her lips together. “I should not say.”

“I will not say a word.” He mimed locking his lips. “Please, you look like you need to say something.”

She sighed. “Father is deeply in debt because his ships are disappearing and too proud to ask any of his true friends for money, so he has arranged Feyre’s marriage to Lord Tamlin Fréijoer, who is a complete ass, and he is pressuring me to marry you because you are a prince and could either pay off his debts in full or forgive them and make everyone stop hounding him.” She took a deep breath. “I am so ashamed to be telling you all of this. How horrid we must all seem.”

“Elain, you do not seem horrid.” Dorian pressed his hand against hers. “If anything, your father is the scheming ass.”

“I hate to think of him like that, though.”

“Of course.” Dorian lost himself in thought for a moment. “You know, I may have a solution.”

She looked up at him, a bright flash of hope crossing her eyes. “Tell me.”

He gave her a conspiratorial little grin. “Miss Elain Archeron, will you marry me?”

“What?!” Complete and utter shock on her face.

“Here is my plan.” Dorian grinned. “I will quietly propose to you; only you and your family shall know of it. My ridiculously large fortune will pay for our wedding and also, conveniently, your father’s debt. However, the proposal will be a complete pretense, only for the sake of protecting you and your family. I will not expect you to actually agree to marry me. Furthermore, I will use my position as prince to investigate the disappearance of your father’s ships and we shall sort out this mess. Who knows, perchance the mysterious vanishing of the merchant fleet is linked to his debts. I would not be surprised if it is.”

“You would do all of this for me?” Elain was completely astounded.

“Elain Archeron, I am hopelessly in love with you. You have captivated me. I would do anything for you and expect nothing in return.” Sincerity shone clear in his sapphire-blue eyes. 

“You are far too good to be true, Dorian,” Elain said, her voice choked with emotion.

“I try.” He smiled. “So what do you say, Elain? Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Dorian, I will.”

~

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