Hart's Hope Read Online Free PDF

Palicrovol, “is the man who marries you. And I will marry you.”
    With all the contempt she could manage, Asineth said to him, “I scorn you, Count Traffing.”
    Palicrovol nodded, as if he honored her verdict upon his honor. “As you wish,” he said. “But I never asked for your consent.” He turned to one of the servants cowering under the gaze of the soldiers. “Has this girl her womanhood?”
    The servant stammered, as Asineth answered for her. “Why don’t you ask me? I do not lie.”
    At those words Palicrovol’s face brightened, as if in recognition. “I knew another woman once who would not lie. Tell me, then, Queen Asineth. Have you your womanhood?”
    â€œThree times,” said Asineth. “I am old enough to marry.”
    â€œThen marry you shall.”
    â€œNever to you.”
    â€œNow. And to me. I will not have it said that I do not rule in Burland by right.”
    They dressed her in a wedding gown that had been made for a child bride eight generations before her. It had never been worn, for the child had died of a plague before her wedding. Now, as they carried Asineth in a prison cart through the streets of Inwit, with ten thousand people jeering at her, cursing her though she had never done them harm, she prayed.
    She prayed to the only god left, Palicrovol’s God, whose temple was rising in the southeast corner of the city. God, she said to him, your triumph is complete, and I also scorn the Sisters and the Hart. Be merciful to me, God. Let me die unmarried to this man.
    But there was no miracle. No unwatched knife lay near her hand; she stood at no precipice; there was no water larger than the contents of an urn. She could not slit her throat or leap to her death or drown. God had no mercy on her.
    The image of the Hart had been torn from its place at the Shrine and now stood shabbily in front of Faces Hall. A thousand generations of wizards had stood upon the back of the Hart to pray for Burland and offer the blood of power. Now only Palicrovol stood there, waiting for her, dressed in the short tunic of the bridegroom. There would be no Dance of Descent, no rites; it was plain to anyone with eyes that Palicrovol intended to consummate this marriage in full view of ten thousand witnesses, so that no one afterward could say that he had not been the duly wedded husband of the daughter of the King.
    Asineth had known all her life that as daughter of the King, her body was the Kingdom, and whatever man had her, had Burland. What she had not realized was that as daughter of the King, above all laws and customs, she had no protection now. There was no law that said a girl of twelve could not be publicly ravished by a husband she did not want—if she was the daughter of the King. There was no custom that said the people should turn their eyes away in shame at such cruelty to a child—not if the child was daughter of the King.
    They forced a ring upon the thumb of her left hand—it was Palicrovol’s only gentle gesture to her at that time, to name her Beauty at her wedding day. She saw also that he had his ring upon the thumb of the right hand, signifying strength. “Now everyone will know how strong you are,” she said, “to conquer a dangerous enemy like me.”
    He did not answer her. He only watched.
    They tied padded boards to her hands, making them so heavy and unwieldy that she could hardly lift them. They put a gag on her mouth, with barbs in it so if she so much as touched it with her tongue or tried to clamp her teeth upon it, it cut her painfully. Then they lifted her to the back of the Hart, and before all the citizens and soldiers of Inwit her husband said the words of the vow, then cut her dress from her. Asineth felt the breeze on her naked skin as if it were the darts of ten thousand eyes. I am the daughter of the King, and you have made me naked and defenseless among the swine. You gave my