[i]’They absolutely should have been more careful,’[/i] Miry signed. [i]’But the nature of the Gemmenite parliament is such that once the policy was abolished - by royal mandate, not even by a vote, but the king soon realized his mistake. The parliament was in a deadlock from that point on; something had to be done but no one could agree on what. It’s been thirty years of this, you know, and every year ideas are brought up and summarily struck down. It’s infuriating.’[/i]

She took a bite of her stew, watching her husband curiously. He seemed particularly deep in thought, but he picked up on her words about volunteering.

The traitor tears sprung up in her eyes again. 

[i]’My mother volunteered me.’[/i] Her hands fell sharply in her lap, and she bit her lip to try to stop its trembling.

No one except those other brides taken at the royal court knew how Miry had ended up here. Others were quick to talk about the home they’d been ripped from; she hadn’t been. What was there to say? 

[i]’My elder sister was presented to the royal court as prince Kelan’s wife-to-be. For the first time in three hundred and seventy two years, the title is passing patrilineally - my sister will take his name. It’s a huge opportunity for my family, you see.’[/i] in Gemmenia, by virtue of how elemental affinities passed down (from mother to children), titles and names usually passed matrilineally, though by a technicality anyone could inherit their family holding. [i]’The night of her presentation ball, the younger Drakkan prince arrived at the capital. He took several of the young court ladies for the reaping, all dressed up in their finery, and - wished to take my sister for himself. My mother screamed at me to do something and - when I couldn’t, she... she begged him to take me instead.’[/i] She squeaked sadly, her face crumpling as she fought off tears.   [i]’I still don’t know why he agreed. Or why she would - I - none of them would look at me, when he took me away, not her or my aunt or my sister or even my little brother.’[/i] She hesitated for a moment and then wrapped her arms around Zak’s, burying her face in his side and sobbing, whole body shaking. Her next signs were frantic, difficult to determine even if he could see them. [i]’I’m sorry I’m not - I - if you want to trade me away for someone better I understand, but - please tell me if you’re going to I just - I just want to know who I’m supposed to be.’[/i] 

At some length of time that she wasn’t sure of, the pain in her chest and mind subsided a bit, and her sobs turned to whimpers and then to trembling hiccups. She sniffled, wiping her eyes and looking up at Zak blearily, trying to match his smile. [i]’I - languages? I mean, it’s not many, at least not many that are useful, but I read eighteen different languages with seven and a - well, sort of a half - different notation systems.’[/i] She rattled them off, including archaic tongues of the first era and languages from lands beyond their border - and several so ancient and mysterious, held only in tomes transcribed and re-transcribed a dozen times with age, that even their modernized catalogue entries were in pre-first-era pictogrammatics. Only two of the languages she read were Drakkan in origin, and both fairly archaic - no text or tome of language had made it across the spine in a hundred years - so she was certain they were of little use. High Drakkan had certainly not helped her within the walls of Vinokh, though it was likely a difference in reading versus hearing as well. She gave a self effacing smile. [i]’Few of them are useful, as I said, so it’s really not all that impressive. I’m just good at learning patterns.’[/i]