The gates of the Vexin fortress swung open, and Damon rode through to a chorus of cheers. He had left alone, a man on a risky mission, and now he returned a champion of a different kind. He found Isolde and Arion waiting in the hall, their faces a mixture of relief and anticipation.
"What news?" Arion demanded, his impatience getting the better of him.
Damon placed his sword on the table and looked from his brother to Isolde. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face. "The merchant's lord and I have reached an agreement. He will accept the marriage. A union of sword and coin."
Arion's face, which had been a study in stoic resolve, tightened. He let out a long, heavy sigh of resignation, his shoulders slumping. His eyes, however, turned to Damon with a hesitant, almost boyish flicker of fear. He lowered his voice so only Damon could hear. "Did you see her, brother? Is she... is she pretty?"
Damon met his brother's gaze. "I did not see her," he said. "But her father spoke of her with great pride. She is a woman of numbers and sharp wit, a fierce mind. She is not a sickly dove, Arion. She is a woman worthy of a Vexin."
Arion did not respond. He simply nodded once, his face grim and unconvinced. The relief that had been so palpable a moment ago was gone, replaced by a sullen, silent resignation. He looked at Isolde, a quiet respect in his eyes for her role in all of this, but it was not enough to overcome his personal apprehension.
That evening, the three of them sat around a warm fire, the conversation no longer tense with a looming threat, but filled with the calm discussion of future plans. They spoke of the Galen's trade routes and the new opportunities for the Vexin people, but Arion's contributions were brief and to the point. He was a dutiful soldier now, a man accepting his new role, but his heart was not in it.
"The king's silence will not last," Isolde warned, her voice thoughtful. "He is not the only one in the capital who plays these games. The queen... she is not a fighter like my brother, but she is clever. She has the ear of many of the nobles, and she is the mother of the heir. She has her own ambitions for the kingdom, and they do not include a powerful House of Vexin on the border."
Damon's eyes met Isolde's. "You will have to be our eyes and ears, then," he said. "The capital is your world. You know its language, its secrets. You are the only one who can see the queen's moves before they are made."
Isolde nodded, her heart swelling with a sense of purpose. This was a new kind of duty, one she was uniquely suited for.
"The wedding will be in a month's time," Damon announced, his gaze resting on Arion, a silent appeal to his brother's sense of duty. "The House of Galen will come to us, to this home. We will show them that we are not a house of mere warriors, but a house of strength, honor, and loyalty."
Arion, however, said nothing. He simply stared into the fire, his mind no doubt picturing his unknown bride, a woman he had never met, whose face he had never seen. He had accepted his fate, but the skepticism in his heart remained. He was a dutiful Vexin, and he would play his part. But he would not be convinced until the veil was lifted.