Her father made her ride in a litter on her way to Gern Jorbert’s Castle Redforest, but she wanted to walk. So, once out of sight of her father--and thank the Fates that Lord Jorbert rode on ahead to whatever important task he’d set himself on--she commanded the guards that she be allowed (such an annoying idea, allowed) to walk on foot a while. They were only five miles out from their hoverstone’s port. Why not? The guards grumbled, but she appealed to their vanity, insulted their honor a little: were they afraid they were not skilled enough to protect her on foot? On their own hoverstone? Really?

 Not nice to say, but successful.

 The air was fresh and clean. Sun shone in bright bars through smooth, illogically grown branches, the trees they attached to vibrantly brown. Her hoverstone could be beautiful. It shared similar vegetation with the Flatland, but elevated it to art, made it regal. She would miss it.

 She did not want to marry a Jorbert. But it appeared she had no choice. Her father was keen to marry her off; keen, more like, to raise his status and join with an ancient house more powerful than his own. The question in her mind was, why did a Jorbert want to marry a Bilt? The lowest House on the lowest Hoverstone. What purpose could that have.

 After Lord Gern Jorbert announced his intentions, he bade Lord Bilt excuse the two of them. He took Lilian by the arm and led her along the battlements outside, overlooking the Flatlands. From there, you could see ice-berg shaped hoverstones, floating above them. All of Hoverland. To her eye, Jorbert’s was the size of a plum.

 It was a while before he spoke. Then: “You despise my house.” She opened her mouth to...well, to be polite, because he wasn’t wrong. He held up a dry palm. “Quite understandable. Lance is cruel and stupid. A good fighter, but stupid. He is not fit to rule. Jorbert is a drunk and a letch and, above all, greedy. He could rule but could not rule well. Do you understand?”

 “You want a new heir.” They stopped. Lord Jorbert looked at her with mild surprise, an eyebrow arched. She went on: “You want a boy to replace your two sons, to become Lord when you’re gone.”

 “It is the only thing to do. Else, House Jorbert may weaken. And a weak House is a dead House.”

 “I should know.”

 They began walking again. “Yes, you should. House Bilt was once strong. Feared. They contended for the King’s Hoverstone, hundreds of years ago. I believe, with better leadership, we’d be toasting King Bilt before breaking bread, not King Norman.”

 “I’ve heard father talk of this. He blames our fate on a battle, scores of hoverships fighting; he said there was dishonorable naval strategy on the part of our enemies.”

 “Is that what you believe?”

 She shook her head, brown hair swirling in the breeze. “I believe my ancestors employed old, out dated tactics, and refused to change. Our enemies used new strategies and that’s why they proved victorious.”

 “And what does that imply?”

 “Poor leadership.”

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 “Indeed.” He sighed. “The histories tell of battle and the genealogies tell of Lords and their heirs. But it is what they don’t say that’s important. A Lord Bilt had an heir who was not fit to lead; his Lordship was disastrous. You cannot gamble for the King’s Hoverstone. You must have a decided advantage. If you throw all your ships against it, you’ll lose.”

 “And you believe your sons will do this? Make a bad bet? Try for the King’s Hoverstone?”

 “Well. No one knows the future.” He stopped, turned to her. “I doubt Lance is that ambitious. It is more likely that he would fight equal or lower Houses and fail. Jorbert--he would not fight at all. I believe he would turn Redforest isolationist. As long as he can drink his wine, fuck his--forgive me, m’Lady--and make coin to spend in an unending cycle, he will have no use for any other hoverstone but his own.”

 “I understand.”

 He took her hands. “Yes. I believe you do.”

 “I still do not favor this match.”

 “No. It is not the match you had in mind as a little girl nor is it the match you want, even now. I am sure you may even try to resist it. But I chose you for a very good reason.”

 She nodded. “I know.”

 He looked shocked, old brow sliding up like ripples in a pond. “Really?”

 “You want a Lady who will give you heirs but will not meddle in your daily affairs, when it comes to running your Castle and House, and when it comes to whatever your wider ambitions are. You believe that in lifting the status of a daughter of a lower house and hoverstone, you will make her grateful, and a grateful wife is one who will never question her role, lest you change your mind, and send her back to her previous life.”

 He regarded her. “Just so. Can you do this?”

 “I can...”

 “Will you do this?”

 “Do I have a choice?”

 “No,” he said flatly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be uncomfortable. Give me an heir, one son, and you will have the best life one could ask for; except maybe the Queen herself.”

 That had been the last of it. He’d walked her back to her father then, and declared the pact between them. And all she could think then was that a comfortable prisoner is still a prisoner; a son would transform her from a prisoner into a hostage. And there was nothing to be done. She’d make the best of it, find a way to turn her position to her advantage.

 But let’s take one thing at a time.

 The wedding. The wedding night. Then she would have to deal with Lance and Jorbert, whatever their schemes might be. She doubted very much they would take the reason for her presence in stride. Would they come after their father? Would they come after her? And what of a son? Would he ever really be safe? She didn’t know. She signaled a guard and got back into the litter as the neared the port, where a hovership awaited to take her to Lord Jorbert’s castle--soon to be her new home.