Percival’s wedding day dawned and he held his beloved in his arms for possibly the last time.
The ceremony was brief and heartless.
As they walked down the aisle, his new wife spoke. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t my idea.”
She had huge, frightened eyes, which moved him to gentleness.
“I know that. Our fathers will have done a deal.”
“Aye, but I’m sorry. For both of us.”
“Don’t be sorry. Shall we make our own bargain? Build something worthwhile for us.”
As it turned out, they could. Though Percival was careful not to ask who fathered ‘his’ heirs.