Chapter 11: Mom Picks a Groom

Before Dad could draw his blade and cut Caleb down, my mother, the Matriarch, hurried over lifting her skirt and blocked his great knife. The fabric caught on a chair; the knife nicked the hem.

As soon as she saw Caleb she was so moved she wiped at her tears.

"Archmage truly admires Aubrey?"

"Precisely."

"Even if withdrawing the engagement, you will still marry her?"

"Naturally."

She was won over by Caleb's firm and unyielding manner and hurriedly told people to go summon Aubrey.

"Good child, good child."

She praised him again and again and ordered someone to offer Caleb the seat of honor—maybe because she still feels guilty about Aunt’s elopement and sees a chance to fix it through him.

Dad’s beard bristled as he glared: "What he's withdrawing is our daughter's marriage! What will make us a laughingstock across every enclave from Seattle to Savannah is our daughter's pride!"

"It's just a fiancé; let your sister have him."

My mother, the Matriarch, shot him a glare, then suddenly recalled the fit I had thrown at her place and felt a flutter of fear.

"Lil, you..."

"Just a fiancé; let it be, so long as my cousin can be happy."

I said it with a calm I didn’t really feel, masking the ache with politeness—pulse hammering in my throat, nails biting my palm. The family drama rolled on, relentless as ever.