I lowered the parchment slowly.
“Well?” Aunt Irish asked.
“They’re moving the wedding forward.”
Her brows knitted together. “How soon?”
“Within the month.”
Her expression darkened immediately.
“That’s… far sooner than originally discussed.”
“It isn’t a discussion,” I said quietly, holding up the decree.
“It’s an order.”
Aunt Irish took the parchment from my hands and read it herself. I watched her eyes move quickly across the page.
Her jaw tightened. “They’re tightening the leash,” she muttered.
The nausea in my stomach surged again, though this time it had nothing to do with pregnancy.
“They want to make sure I cannot act without them standing beside me,” I said.
My Aunt looked up from the letter.
“Once you’re married to Ryzon, every decision you make will be interpreted as
