[NSW-Fic] Four Years, Four Fates (Rated PG-13)

[Tysyacha]

Author's Note: The epigraphs, or quotes from songs that I use

at the beginning of each chapter, are "mood setters" for the story.

If you can listen to the full songs on MP3, please do and comment

on whether you think they enhance the story! As they were with

"Dvukh", they're experimental. And now, without further ado,

Chapter I...

 

********************************

 

"Que una hembra gitana conjuro a la luna hasta almanecer..."

--"Hijo de la Luna", or "Son of the Moon" by Mario Frangoulis

 

I wasn't as religious as my sisters, but I was definitely quite spiritual.

Superstitious, some might say, and I'll lay claim to that. All I knew

was that this evening, my soul would be sold to the highest bidder.

Or to the richest young bachelor at our first-ever spring soiree...

 

I was going to get married. So were Milyona and Milliarda, my two

best friends in the world, though I was scared of them at times.

They were my incredibly beautiful younger sisters. They would be

the belles of the ball tonight, and for some reason I didn't mind.

With all eyes upon them, perhaps Father would let me have my

own say in whom I would marry. After all, with Milyona and

Milliarda commanding all the attention (and the money) in the

room, who'd worry about poor old Tysyacha, emphasis on the

"old" at one-and-twenty years? I smiled to myself. Perfect!

 

Still, I didn't want to ruin my chances. I wasn't taking any.

 

Sofia was a servant in our household, a Spanish beauty who

had a bit of Gypsy blood in her. At least that's what she said.

Her name meant "wisdom", and she'd been employed as our

cook for the past twenty years. Ever since I was a child,

she'd fed me as my wet nurse. Milyona and Milliarda too.

She'd fed all of us, and it was a pity my sisters now turned

to their old Bibles and scoffed at her. I did, too, but still...

 

"Sofia?" I asked, humbly turning to her as she stirred a kettle.

 

The lady smiled. "Tysyacha. I knew you'd come. You want your

fortune told, do you? Come here." I sat down at the hearth.

 

Sofia took two worn-out dice, made out of real bone, from her

pocket. "Roll the dice," she said, "for the first man you'll meet."

 

I did. Two dice clacked to the floor. Two dots showed their faces.

 

"Ah! Two! You are lucky," she said, "for this is the pair bond. You

will be one with your husband in more than name, and more than

body. You will be one in soul. He shall love you more than all the

earth, more than all the gold and silver that he could have had a

chance to earn. He is a mere manservant, this one, but he will

bring you joy." Sofia raised a concerned eyebrow. "Roll again."

 

So I did, and the dice came up with another pair. Four and four.

 

"Eight." Sofia's eyes darkened. "This is a bad number, because

that's how many years at hard labor you'll spend for your love.

How do you say it--ka-tor-zhnie raboty?" She looked at me,

and I shivered. I nodded, too, feeling I'd made a huge mistake.

 

"Good. I was hoping not to frighten you too badly. Roll again,

because there are two men with clear futures you'll meet tonight."

 

Happily, I let out a deep breath--aahhhh!--and threw the dice.

 

"Seven!" Sofia was jubilant. "A lucky number, because this doctor

has seven thousand good reasons for you to marry him. All of

them golden." She winked. "As for love, you'll get it if you're

faithful to him and a good, obedient wife. Not to worry." Sofia's

look told me that she considered it a good match. Fortunate.

 

"Now again. Third time's a charm, you know." Sofia and I laughed.

 

This time, it was--"Ten! I knew you'd do it, Syscha! This is the

best number you could have rolled. Ten children you'll have, and

your fame will be known throughout all the regions of our country.

Look for a man with red hair and a fat wallet. He's a merchant, and

not only that, his retinue of fellow merchants will lead you straight

to the court of the king. The 'tsar', you call him, eh?" I nodded.

 

"What about love?" I asked. "Will he love me?"

 

"Love is a fleeting feeling sometimes," Sofia said. "He will not love

you as a bride, but as a bastion of power and prestige. He will not

be unfaithful to you, but neither will he claim you as his only one.

If you marry him, you'll be immortal. Seek him out, Tysyacha!"

 

I suddenly choked up. "I'd be a fool not to," I said.

 

Then Sofia leaned close. "Your father's listening," she whispered,

"for these walls he built have ears. Shh. Leave that 'ten' alone."

 

I went back to my room, at once hot and shivering. What--luck?!

[Torthane]

Well I think you are off to a very good start. The stage is set and the peices are ready to move. I like how Tysy has to make a choice between the different men. This looks like it will get very interesting. Can't wait for more!

[Tysyacha]

"We'll have you washed and dried, Primped and polished 'till you glow with

pride! Just my recipe for instant bride--you'll bring honor to us all!" --Mulan

 

Sofia had, unbeknownst to me, followed me upstairs to my bedchamber.

"Nina!" she cried. "Come back down. I have something to show you."

 

I smiled at the mischievous twinkle in her doe-like brown eyes, brimming

with mysteries no one yet knew. From above, I heard splashing, giggling

and singing. I rolled my eyes slyly. "Milyona and Milliarda have used up

all the hot water!" It figured. They needed every pampering for the soiree.

 

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Sofia gestured to a massive washtub

in a corner of the kitchen that was normally used for the laundry. "Get in!"

 

"Are you serious?" I had to laugh out loud. "That's too big for me! I'll soil

the next load of clothes!" Before I could protest any further, however,

Sofia had unceremoniously doffed my everyday gown and kirtle and

stripped off my petticoats. Good thing Father was in our ballroom!

 

"Uno, dos, tres!" In a trice (and a splash,) I was in hot water. What

on earth would my sisters think if they saw me in the laundry tub?! I had

no chance to think of this for any length of time, as I was soon giggling

like my sisters. Sofia was scrubbing me down like the happy child I was.

 

"Kak miyla! So much soap! Are you sure I'll need it?" Sofia nodded,

her chest bubbling over with gentle laughter. I relaxed and enjoyed the

bath. Before, I'd felt so nervous and so scared, and now I wasn't anymore.

"Sofia?" I asked her as she soaped my back. "Do you think I have a chance?"

 

"Of finding love? Of course! Creo que si--konyechno. In both my

language and yours, the chance is there. More than there, mijita.

However, there is evil you must watch out for. Lo malo. Lo plokhoy.

There are shadows hanging over your good family, and over you three girls

especially. Let your heart be humble, lest the Devil see pride and take you."

 

I nodded. "Sofia?" I said. "I'm sorry I ever laughed at you, either as a child

or even now. My sisters think you're a nervous old hen, but I trust you."

 

Sofia smiled. "I know. Spread your legs. I must wash all of you." I blushed,

hoping that soon there would be two in this huge tub instead of only one!

 

When I was done with my bath, Sofia slapped her broad forehead. "Uf!

Stupid me. I forgot to bring down any towels. Rinse off. I'll be back."

 

So I did, and Sofia returned with--our bearskin rug, freshly beaten today?!

 

This time I burst out laughing so hard that my belly shook. "Sofia! Have

you gone loca?! Wrap me in that, and I'll be Bearskin for all my days!"

 

She did anyway, and all my worries about tonight's soiree disappeared.

 

Until my sisters happened to appear, that is.

 

"Look at that!" Milliarda's eyes sparkled with merriment. "Is that what you're

wearing to the ball, Tysyacha? Might as well be, since you never asked Father

to buy you any decent dresses!" She pointed at my fur-wrapped frame, giggling.

 

Milyona smirked at me. "Tonight's the one night you're going to regret

your taste in fashion," she said. "I'll marry rich. You'll marry--well!--!"

She turned to leave. "I'm sorry, Tysyacha. You're just too funny!"

 

Sofia scowled at my retreating sisters. "Take care. Follow your heart."

 

My cheeks burned with humiliation. I would not cry. Not tonight, when

so much of my future was at stake. Not now, when I was supposed to

be putting on my finest finery for all the world to see. Not here! Father

would see me and my red face and puffy eyes and tell me to leave.

 

"Ne seychas!" I hissed fiercely. My best dress wasn't much, but

here I went! Here I'd roll the dice of the cosmos, and may Luck be mine!

[Torthane]

Good chapter for sure. I liked how you put a little comedy in. Tysyacha's sisters remind me a little bit of Kitty and Lydia form Pride and Predjudice. You've got some very good characterization going in the form of Sophie and Tysy of course. Can't wait for the ball scene!

[Tysyacha]

"Wilkommen! Bienvenue! Welcome! Im cabaret, au cabaret, to Cabaret!" --Cabaret, from the opening title

 

A pale dress, a feathered hat--these were all I had for my Sunday best.

Or my soiree best, as the case was for tonight. Any money that I received

from my father as one of his numerous gifts, I preferred to save or give to

church. As fast as I'd always outgrown clothes, I knew they wouldn't last!

 

Milyona and Milliarda, however, had always been fond of high fashion. Who

could blame them tonight? Milyona, with her olive skin and chestnut-brown

locks, was a vision in a shimmering orange ballgown. Milliarda, flaxen-blonde

and fair, preferred a light floral print, and her dress overshadowed even her

next-to-oldest sister's! She was truly the crown jewel of our humble family.

 

And speaking of that, here came our humble father, Vitali, to announce us!

 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!", he said with his merriest smile. Even

his cheeks were red, and I had to smile myself. He was nervous, and when

poor Father got nervous, he got to drinking. I hoped he hadn't picked the

vodka set aside for this reception. Good heavens, save it for the guests!

 

"Especially for you gentlemen. I have three magnificent daughters, each

one more beautiful than the last, each a treasure and a jewel! Pure and

undefiled, virgins all, they will make fine wives for three of you lucky ones!"

 

Slight smiles and chuckles from the audience, and I knew that our numbers

were up. Poor Papa! The gentlemen, in their suits and ties, could all sense

our noble Vitali was not in his best frame of mind. What were we to do?

 

"Dance!" cried our father, spreading his arms out wide. "But first, let me

introduce the girls! My eldest daughter is Tysyacha, as sweet and kind

as she is clever. Worth a thousand pieces of gold, she is, and a kiss!"

 

I blushed. Maybe so, but what I was certainly not was a good dancer.

This was the main reason why I hated soirees, but I also detested small

talk. The most interesting people I knew were the ones who skipped it.

 

"My delightful middle daughter, Milyona!" With an even bigger grin, Father

presented my sister. "Her name means what she's worth--a million pieces of

gold. Fine music is her specialty, as well as the latest fashion and cuisine.

She will be a dazzling hostess and a marvelous entertainer, and a comely

mother of strapping children! Dance, Milyona, dance, and form a line for her!"

 

Oh, they did! Our soiree guests swarmed forward and formed a queue, but

I noticed that some were still waiting. Waiting for my feet to bruise them?

Surely not, although I hoped at least one man would lead me in a waltz

(however awkward). One of my sisters had not yet been introduced...

 

"My final daughter, Milliarda, the one, the only! One billion pieces of gold

is the price I would set on her head, for she's worth as much as the stars!

Take care with her, gentlemen, for she is fragile and fair, but she loves a

good waltz! Or a polka, or mazurka. Don't leave her without a partner!

She is my most beautiful, the image of her mother, and I will not part

with her unless you're worth as much yourself. Bonsoir! I'm off!"

 

He turned abruptly around. "At least until three of you propose! Ha!"

 

What I thought was funny was the dancing queue for Milliarda! It was

twice as long as Milyona's, and some suitors who had been in Milyona's

line quickly switched over. Of course, no one wanted to dance with me,

having heard of my superlative lack of talent in that area. Just as well!

I'd enjoy myself with witty conversation, which was far more entertaining.

 

"I hate soirees." This from a tall gentleman in the corner with dark eyes,

sipping a glass of champagne. "I prefer stronger drink, and dancing appalls

me. My name's Ruslan. Ruslan Tvyordim, at your service." A slight smirk.

 

"So does that mean I'll be your Lyudmila?*" I asked, smirking back. "You

don't smile like that at a lady, especially not one worth 1,000 gold pieces."

 

"Tysyacha," he said, "your father's an out-and-out fool. You're worth more."

 

I was prepared to laugh, so I was shocked when his voice sounded serious...

 

*"Ruslan and Lyudmila" is a piece of Russian literature, one which I haven't read!

[Tysyacha]

"Money makes the world go around..." --"Money," from Cabaret

 

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red. Red hair, and a

golden pocket watch. Both blazed like fire! I said a sheepish "Izvinitye", or

"Excuse me," to Ruslan after bowing slightly. He smiled, his twinkling eyes

remaining as dark as his hair. The other man beckoned to me with only the

back of his head, I am ashamed to admit! Was this the great "ten" of whom

Sofia had spoken? He certainly looked handsome, and very well-dressed.

 

"Good evening, mademoiselle Tysyacha," he said, bowing over my

hand and kissing it politely. He didn't want to seem too forward, and I

was glad of that. "My name is Pierre Renard, and I'm a luxury merchant,

originally from France. I sell spices, silks, fine jewelry, tableware--you

name it. Perhaps you'd care for a drink?" I shook my head no, as his

blue eyes also reminded me of hot fire. They seemed to stare right

through me. What was it about Pierre that scared and delighted me so?

 

"I'll cut to the chase, my darling. I want to marry you. Your sisters may

be young and very beautiful, but they won't help me in my trade. They

may have good taste in fashion, but I need a wife who knows her way

around subtle negotiations, for prices and other things. Those two don't

look like they know a thing about anything except the latest ballgowns."

 

I snickered loudly. "You'd be right," I muttered under my breath. "As

for you marrying me, there's one more man I have to meet before I--

happen to decide. Him," I said, closing my eyes and pointing happily.

 

Pierre raised an eyebrow. "The fat doctor? Can't say you'd go very wrong

there. Rich as an oyster, Monsieur Berdine is--that's his last name. However,

don't go anywhere near him if conversations about dissection either disgust

or bore you. I suspect the former would be true as well as the latter." Pierre

smirked, and I wrinkled my nose to let him know he was right. "However, he

is looking for an honest wife, and kind."

 

I nodded. Honest I was. Kind? It depended on the person, but I believed my

heart was almost always tender. "I'll go see him," I told Pierre, "and then

return to you. Wait--what about him?" I discreetly gestured toward Ruslan,

as he seemed like the kind of man who would slap you if you pointed at him.

 

"That one? Low, common man, of as humble peasant stock as you can find.

Servanthood's the highest that he'll go. He's been a footman to an ancient

landowner for as long as anyone can remember, but since the old man died

and began playing his golden harp, that young roughneck will be passed on

to his son. Servants are inherited like other property these days."

 

Pierre turned to me. "You can do better. Stay with me, and I'll make sure

you never know poverty or hunger. As for love, I love you already. You

have sense, and I'm not one of these men who'll suffer a fool. Au revoir!"

 

He smiled and wandered off, gawking at the still-long dancing line for Milliarda.

 

I was left confused. A lead weight was in my chest. I had thought this

was going to be easy--love at first sight, and I'd become a bride! However,

this was not going the way I'd planned. I'd talk to the doctor, but my

clear choice was between him and Pierre. Ruslan, I mean. And Pierre...

[Tysyacha]

"Unless that human being next to you--is unimpressive, undistinguished you-know-who..."--"Mr. Cellophane," from "Chicago"

 

"I perform surgery," said Doctor Berdine. "That's how I spend my time."

 

I nodded. Obvious, but not altogether untoward. "Your work. I see."

Something unnerved me about this stocky, middle-aged man. Was it that

he was--so much older than I, and possessed such a greater depth of

knowledge? I felt like a silly girl, even in my modest soiree dress. Such

a man ought not to be married, I thought, except to one of his specimens...

 

"But, enough about me. What do you like to do, Miss Tysyacha?" he asked.

 

"I like to search for the soul of everyone I meet," I told him, which was true.

"Nine times out of ten, I can tell whether someone is honest or not, brave

or not, selfish or not. In you I see--great intelligence, and a calm demeanor."

 

"Exciting, eh?" The good doctor laughed. "Well, if you like me, come be my wife."

 

"Like" was not exactly the word I would use to describe how I wanted to

feel towards my husband, but since my sisters were already busy with

far more suitors than either one of them could handle, I supposed I could

settle. "Beggars can't be choosers", the old saying went, as I recalled.

 

However--I had three men from which to make my choice.

 

Three was better than none, or even one. Two would be best, but still...

[Torthane]

Yea! A whole bnunch of new chapters! I can't understand why no one elsse has commented on this very deep and entertaining story. Once again, I think you are doing a quite excellent job of setting the stage. Before Tysysacha is the chioce that will likely be the most weighty she will ever make in her life. Will she marry for love at the cost of wealth, or marry a rich man and perhaps never truly be loved. Fantastic stuff, and your writing style is as captivating as ever!

[Tysyacha]

"I have found her!" "I have found him!" --Rodgers' and Hammerstein's "Cinderella"

 

After my revealing (and short) conversation with the good Doctor Berdine,

I decided it was time for a drink after all. Vodka wouldn't do. Nor champagne.

I needed my wits about me if I was going to decide whom to marry. That's

why I settled for punch, red and delicious with the heady sweetness of fresh

berries. Yes, it would spoil my dress if I spilled any on it, but I didn't care.

There were far more important things than gowns at this soiree tonight...

 

With a heavy step and a light smile, Ruslan found me. I knew he would.

 

"Tysyacha!" That sly twinkle was still in his eyes. "Have you decided yet?"

 

I gazed at Ruslan very matter-of-factly. "His name's Pierre Renard."

 

"The merchant? I can't say I blame you. Very rich, he is. Still, there's

something to be said for a man who will skip all of the social flattery,

isn't there?" He winked, but then shook his head with a rueful snort.

"Ah, forget it! I'm a common laborer. A footman. Go ahead and say it--

what's on your mind." He looked up, and even though he was trying to

appear brave, I knew from his eyes he was crestfallen. I swallowed hard.

 

"Go off and marry a peasant girl, Ruslan," I said sadly. "Not me. My father

would seriously consider disowning me if I said that I wanted to marry you.

Besides, what kind of wife would I be to you? I'm weak-legged, and I haven't

worked since my tutors had me doing noun declinations this very winter. I

haven't done any hard work at all! Or dirty. You don't want me, Ruslan. I'm

weak. You need someone strong, someone who--" I stammered. "Oh, forget it!"

 

Ruslan laughed, and his ringing voice was candid. "Check and mate! We're

more alike than we seem to be, or than we pretend to be. Come on. Who

wants to live with a perfumed fop like that, when you could have me and

smell nothing but soap after you go to bed? With a trace of honest sweat."

 

Delighted, I closed my eyes and put on a playfully haughty expression. "I

will decide whom I'm going to wed within the course of two minutes. V

techenie dve minutiy," I told Ruslan, smirking and turning away from him.

 

He gently turned me around to face him again, his broad hand against the

small of my back (which wasn't so small. My waist wasn't tiny, either.) He

slid his index finger down the curve of my nose and tapped the tip gently.

 

"Dvukh minut," he said, the passion never leaving his eyes. "Not dve."

 

"Dvukh..." I whispered back, the spell of this "low-bred footman" washing

over me. "Is that what we'll be? Two? Against the waves in the sea of life?"

 

"If that is what you'll have--if you'll have me." Ruslan stepped backward, but

only a little. "I have nothing to offer you except my arms, my heart, my soul."

 

"That's all I need," I said. "Let's go tell my father." He wouldn't be happy...

 

"Before we do--"ty budyesh' moya zhena? Will you marry me?" Ruslan

knelt. This was rather hard to do with all the other couples whirling around us!

 

What could I say? "Da--tysyachu raz!" Yes, one thousand times, and amen!

[Tysyacha]

"What you're gonna tell your dad's like a wheel of fortune..." --Ace of Base

 

The three of us--Milyona, Milliarda, and I--stood before our father in

the debris-littered ballroom. Decorative ribbons had been torn down

and strewn across the floor. Crystal cups, half-full and empty, had

been abandoned everywhere. Mostly-eaten plates of cake, and some

with crumbs, were left behind for any starving stragglers (such as mice)

to find. Out of this mess, a miracle had come! All of us had

received proposals, and all of us were now engaged.

 

"My darlings!" Papa cried. "My three precious gems! Whom have you chosen?"

 

Milyona started first. "I pledged my troth to a sensible man," she said, "a junior

partner in a banker's guild. He is not as wealthy as his senior comrade, but rest

assured he's rich and handsome. Richer than most of the other bachelors, except

for the one that Milliarda picked." Milyona rolled her eyes slyly. "Out of all those

gentlemen, you chose the one who'll be away at sea the most? What a shame."

 

"Pierre Renard is a merchant." Milliarda placed her hands squarely on her

hips, and my mouth fell open in shock. "That's his business, to sell his

luxuries. Who cares if he'll be away? I'll have the household to run."

And lovers to meet, I thought to myself. Poor Milliarda! Even

though I was more than slightly jealous of my sister's clever catch,

I couldn't help but think that her fiance's true priorities lay elsewhere.

"I accepted him after Tysyacha turned him down flat!" she announced.

 

"I did not!" I whirled around to face both of my giggling sisters. "I simply

chose another, that's all. His name's Ruslan Tvyordim, and he's a footman."

 

"A what?!" Milliarda gawked. It was time for her own mouth to fall open!

 

"A footstool?" Milyona scoffed. "He's a servant. You can do better than that!"

 

"Is this true?" Papa looked rather like a deflating balloon, and I felt sorry for

him. "Are you going to marry someone with no money and no prospects except

for servitude in a great house, all because of the feelings he thinks he has

for you? Or the feelings that you think you have for him? Please reconsider!"

 

"I realize that I don't know him well," I said, "but he's been honest with me.

He never tried to pretend like he was someone he was not. That's more than

I can say for Pierre, who didn't mention real love in his promises of gifts to me,

and that's more than Doctor Berdine, who didn't mention love either. It may

be a fleeting feeling, this lyubov', but I'd rather be with Ruslan than

with someone rich whom I'm not sure about. I'm sure about this one, Papa."

 

My father turned to me. "You will call me vy," he pronounced sternly,

"as a respectful stranger would, or a servant. You are no longer my daughter,

as you've squandered all the wealth I've spent on you and the very way that I

raised you! I will choose another husband for you, one more fitting, and you'll

accept my wishes. Otherwise, your inheritance will not be one kopeika!"

 

"I don't need money, gaspadin," I said, calling my father "sir". "I need

love, or at least the chance at love."

 

"Don't talk to me about that. Your mother was rich, and I loved her, but one

feeling followed the other. I don't need to tell you which one followed which.

Go and join your footman, your future fiance, and do not enter by this door

again unless you wish to be hired as our servant, along with Mister Tvyordim!"

 

"Nikogda," I said. "Never." And that was that. I left my father's house.

[Bee Hoon]

I suppose it was pretty inevitable that she would choose him:) The fathers in your works seem to be rather flamboyant and quick to sell out on their daughters... Awaiting the coming chapters! I really enjoy your style!

[Torthane]

I pretty much figured that she would marry Ruslan too. Which is not a bad thing by any means, it sets up some potentially interesting situations for poor Tysy and I am very excited to see where the story will go from here. Keep writing!

[Tysyacha]

"What good is wealth and fame, fine clothes and diamond rings? It just don't

mean a thing if you ain't got love..." --Dolly Parton, from "The Beverly Hillbillies"

 

I didn't get very far from my father's house, however, when I heard a wail...

 

"Tysyacha! Wait!" I whirled around. Here came Milliarda, bless her heart, her

billowing flowered gown trailing behind her as she ran. "Don't leave us! Don't

leave me!" She flew into my arms and gave me a hug. "At least not without

my blessing and my gift. Why shouldn't you have the luxury of love? I chose

Pierre, but that doesn't mean you should have to be banished from Papa's

house just because you picked the footman! What was Father thinking?!"

 

"I'm ashamed of him," I said, "but I'm more ashamed of myself for bringing

him dishonor. His fortune's not that large, especially nowadays when his

creditors are calling. I should have picked Doctor Berdine, or Pierre when

I had the chance. Not that I'll forsake Ruslan. I'll stand by him until the

day I die. However--Papa will be the laughingstock of the whole town!"

 

Milliarda cried, "He is already. Didn't you see how tipsy he was at the

soiree?" I nodded sadly.. "I wish that we could have done more for him

besides marry whom he says. Money isn't everything, but he would say

neither is love. I don't believe that. Love is everything, Tysyacha. You

yourself have proven it!" She stamped her foot. "Papa's a greedy dog!

 

"Here. Take this." Milliarda removed her ornate golden cross from around

her neck. "If you and Ruslan ever need money, sell this cross and pay

your debts. It was our mother's, but she said if worse ever came to

worst, we should offer this as a piece of significant collateral. Take it!

Mother's spirit is with us, and she'd be sad if you refused this one last gift!"

 

"Are you sure? This is your most favorite necklace, Milliarda! As you said,

it's our mother's, and you never take it off except to take a bath. Do you

want to waste it on me?" I laughed ruefully. "Me and my servant fiance?"

 

"My darling, take it! I've never been so sure in my whole life. No one else

is here. Both Father and Milyona think you're mad. They're sure you'll be

begging to serve as a maid in our house once you realize what you've

done. I won't have it. I will not see my oldest sister wash our dishes

and scrub our steps! That's the price they say you'll pay for your poor

judgment. I give you this cross to spite them, but even more to help you!"

 

I hugged Milliarda again. "Thank you, one billion times," I choked, weeping.

"Ruslan's waiting. I must go, but know this: I will never forget your kindness

or your love, revealed to me at the eleventh hour!" I kissed her and fled.

[Torthane]

Short chapter, but I think it really opened up some things. It was great to see one of Tysy's sisters showing some nobility, and compassion. It is also interesting to see that Tysy has some way of getting money if things go bad. I really enjoy reading this fic, and as always, eagerly await the next installment.