Trace finished the ride home in silence. Anaisa seemed stunned by his statement, and that was completely understandable. He was fairly stunned himself.
He'd just gotten home. He didn't want to leave. Even at this very moment, he was reconsidering his insane offer.
But there was no way to avoid it.
"I'll unload while you get supper started," Trace tried to smile confidently at his wife. She stared back at him uncertainly, and nodded.
She obviously knew something was out of the ordinary, but took a few parcels of the food they'd purchased and went inside.
Trace gulped, leaning back against the side of the wagon and running his hands down his face. Rage boiled beneath the surface, mixed with guilt and turmoil.
He pulled the letter from his coat and read it again. The scrawling, refined handwriting made his stomach churn.
"Trace-
Your disinclination to accept my letter wounded me deeply. As a peace offering, I have arranged for you to be provided a wife that Conlan believes will suit your particular tastes."
The scoundrel had made a tasteless joke in the city about Trace preferring redheads, and probably had no idea that he'd found the very one Trace had been looking for all along. The man's stomach clenched as he continued reading the letter.
"I have also arranged for your new sister-in-law and her husband to visit the city and partake in its culture. I do hope you will join them here with your pretty wife and assist me with an ongoing problem. If you should fail, I regret that their journey will end in disappointment for everyone.
"Should this prove a less than satisfactory incentive for you to visit, I fear your continued refusal to help me will result in the details of your wife's little secret making life in your town untenable. I do hope we can be good friends. I look forward to your visit to the city within two weeks."
There was no signature. There never was. Trace wished he knew who his mysterious blackmailer was, but he only knew they were part of the rather expansive noble class. The king would have no reason to blackmail him; he could simply order a subject to obey.
Other than that, almost anyone could be the culprit.
Trace sighed heavily.
His interest in Anaisa was at fault for getting her assigned to him in marriage. Now that she was bound to him, she was being dragged into this ugly scheme. If she knew, she would hate him.
How did one exactly bring that up in conversation?
"I stood up to a blackmailer, and as a result now you've been married off to me and your sister's sort of been kidnapped and you're also being blackmailed with whatever secret you have?"
He scoffed. Whatever secret his wife held couldn't be anything compared to his own… could it?
His brow scrunched in thought. Was she also magical in some way?
No, it would make no sense for her to be living on the street, dirt poor and sleeping in the barn of an inn, if she had some way to provide for herself magically. He had yet to hear of any magic talent that couldn't be used for profit in some way or another.
Even his own could make him a pretty penny amongst the nation's wealthy. He was sure they would pay a remarkable wage for the novelty of living whatever kind of dream they wanted.
He'd heard of a woman that could make any kind, size, or color flower being paid exhorbitantly to make fancy, custom gardens for the royal family. She was practically a pet, a kept novelty, albeit a rich one.
The thought made him shudder. He hoped never to turn into such a person. He thought he'd wrested control of his life back by refusing to care if his own secret got out, but now that someone else was involved, that complicated things.
He quit playing checkers only to find out it had been chess all along.
So what now? Did he come entirely clean to Anaisa and hope she didn't try to ruin his life in recompense for being dragged into it? Surely she wouldn't do that.
He had a lot of decisions to make on how much to tell her, and how quickly. She was clearly on edge about his sudden decision to go to the city on the flimsy excuse of looking for her sister. He needed some way to bolster the plan in her eyes without letting her know enough to hate him.
The horses neighed, reminding him that he'd been standing there, leaning against the wagon, instead of unloading it. Anaisa was probably wondering what had happened to him.
He shouldered a large bag of flour, frowning. Surely everything they bought today would keep until they returned? Maybe he should gift some of it to the neighbors as a thank-you for watching his animals.
Again.
He wanted to hit his head against a wall. His life was caught up in intrigues beyond his control, and doubtless it would only get worse when they arrived in the city.
Heading inside, he unloaded the things one by one. Anaisa's eyes grew rounder with each new batch of items.
The china, she carefully put away in the mostly-empty cabinet he had built. The chair, she tucked in at the table. Between each batch of things he brought inside, his house looked less like the barely livable single room of a bachelor and more like a cozy home.
Trace considered again what to say as he sat down for dinner. Anaisa was looking at him with an expression between expectation and uncertainty, serving him with a small smile.
"I need time to get ready," He said thoughtfully. "I think we can leave early next week, if that's soon enough to satisfy you."
She chewed her lip, and nodded. "That is unbelievably kind of you."
Something in her tone made him frown. Had she been thinking of running away from him to try to find Katia on her own?
He didn't like that idea one bit.
"You're very protective of your sister, despite being the younger." Trace observed. "Is there something different about her?" He asked, trying to probe a little deeper. Maybe her sister was magic after all?
"Different? What do you mean?" Anaisa seemed surprised.
"Nevermind," he waved it off and ate a few bites. "This is very good."
"I'm… sorry for my outburst at the shop. Both times, I suppose." Anaisa pursed her lips.
"If my brother were missing, I might act similarly," he shrugged, relieved that the conversation was on her instead of himself.
"Is that why you're so willing to help me?" Anaisa asked him.
He gulped, not sure how to navigate the situation.
"You're my wife. Is it not my responsibility to help you?"
The question was evasive, and it seemed she could tell. Anaisa chewed thoughtfully as she watched him. He kept his eyes on his food.
"You are hiding something, but I will not ask if you wish me not to." She tilted her head.
Trace hesitated, looking at her intently. It would be much easier if she did not go delving into his secrets, but he knew from the letter that she had her own, which he was painfully curious about, but also afraid to know.
If Conlan had been instrumental in getting Anaisa assigned to him, could it be a coincidence that she had some sort of secret that was considered worth using for blackmail?
"I'm sure you also have your own things you would rather not share," Trace watched her expression carefully, remembering her reluctance to talk about her past. "We don't know each other well, so I suppose it will come down to how much we want to trust one another."
Anaisa chewed her food for a moment before answering.
"I find it difficult to trust others." She looked him in the eye as she spoke. He couldn't tell if she was inviting him to try to convince her that he was trustworthy. He gulped and considered his reply.
Some of his father's words from this morning flooded back into his mind. At the time they were only discussing whether Trace would tell Anaisa about his magic, but now there were more secrets between them. He hoped his father's advice would hold true.
"Real trust must be built over time, but it starts somewhere, doesn't it?" He asked her gently.
"You do not yet trust me with your secrets," She pointed out, and he nodded.
"You're right. We can start small, and build a foundation. I will ask for a little trust, and give a little in return." He offered.
"What 'little' trust do you ask for now?" Anaisa's eyes bored into his, and he took a deep breath before responding.
"You do not trust me with your secrets, whatever they are. At least not yet, but will you trust me to act in our best interests?" Trace worded the question with great care. His wife hesitated before answering.
"What if our interests don't align?"