Don't Hate Me, Don't Love Me

The white mourning flowers had not yet been taken down from the Archer's residence, and only Draven's house was now adorned with flowers for a wedding.

I sat quietly on the bridal bed, my hands twisting the handkerchief nervously under the veil. Elyse had been the most beautiful girl in the Frederick family. When my father sought to climb the ranks by marrying her to the ailing eldest son of the Archer family, he hired the best matchmaker in Bulfa to secure the match.

The matchmaker had said that Draven had tuberculosis and would not live past forty. He also had no hope of fathering children.

Most families would have avoided such a match, but not ours. We rushed toward it.

My father said nothing, merely slipping two gold pieces into the matchmaker's hand.

The matchmaker weighed the coins in her palm, and the large black mole at the corner of her mouth quivered as she smiled.

In less than two days, she returned with good news.

On Elyse's wedding day, the Frederick family was brightly lit with decorations and full of celebration.

My father's face bloomed with joy. After all, the Archer family were royal merchants, far beyond the reach of the Frederick family, even though we owned the best medical clinic in Bulfa.

Who would have thought that in less than two years, Elyse would fall into the water and drown?

And Draven, whom the matchmaker had said wouldn't live long, was still alive and well.

Sacrificing one daughter had not been enough for my father. He was not about to let go of the wealth and status he had obtained so easily.

So, less than a month after Elyse's mourning period, he set his sights on me and sent me to the Archer family as a second wife for their short-lived eldest son.