Page 6 of No Place in Time

“A mason, once,” Alard continued calmly. “He has risen well beyond it.”

“She is young,” Finn said. “Too young for you, Father. You must see that.”

“She is of age,” Alard replied. “And she will be well cared for.”

Finn remembered his mother toward the end—standing at the window, hands folded low against her swollen belly, staring absently at the manicured gardens below. He had been old enough then to know she was afraid.

But another child would further secure the line. Another son would strengthen the house. Finn had not understood then what that demanded of her.

“You cannot do this,” Finn said.

Alard’s expression hardened. “I will.”

“She is not breeding stock,” Finn said, and felt his control slip. “She is not something you can wear out and replace. Not like Mother.”

Alard’s eyes sharpened. “Mind your words.”

“You speak of marriage as though it costs nothing,” Finn said. “As though women, young women, do not pay a price.”

“They submit to their purpose,” Alard replied evenly. “As men submit to theirs. This is the way of the world, boy, and you should grasp it by now.”

“My mother submitted to hers,” Finn said. “Until it killed her.”

Silence fell.

Alard rose from his chair with deliberate calm. “Your mother was fragile,” he said. “She fulfilled her role as best as she was able.”

Finn’s hands closed into fists. For a moment, he could not trust himself to speak.

“She was younger even than Lady de Malet,” Finn said at last.

Alard moved closer. “You will not interfere. This match strengthens alliances we cannot afford to lose.”

“You have two heirs already,” Finn said. “I am your heir, and Geoffrey stands behind me. Why strive for more?”

His father directed a stern gaze toward him. “Do not interfere with this union.”

Finn left the solar, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He saw Cecily’s face in his mind—the desperation she fought to hide. A fortnight. His father had given her family a fortnight. Which meant Finn had less time than that to stop it.

4

CECILY

1239

Waiting was a luxury she no longer had.

Cecily washed and dressed with a grim purpose, ignoring the ordinary morning sounds of the hall. Before her resolve could waver, she walked straight to her parents’ chamber and entered without knocking.

Her father was already up, fastening his belt. Her mother sat near the window, hands folded tightly in her lap.

They both looked up as Cecily entered.

“We need to speak,” Cecily said.

Thomas studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. We do.”

She closed the door behind her.