The other is something else.
Tall, blond, fit. She has deep blue eyes and a haughty expression that immediately rubs me the wrong way. But I see the horror there, too, behind her eyes. She looks me up and down and her mouth bends with contempt.
"My son, Fabien, has a childish sense of humor," my father says, trying to salvage the situation. I'm gratified to see him embarrassed. "Fabien, go and clean up. Don't come back until you're presentable."
I look down at my ruined suit and bloodied shirt as if I'd just noticed them. I look like I've stepped out of a slaughterhouse.
I take a long look at the blond. Somehow I know it's her, and not the dark haired one. The blond is the one I'm supposed to marry.She's the one who's been promised to me. Ignoring my father, I walk the room to stand before her.
