"I most certainly do, my lord," the man announced, testing the weight of the purse in his hands.
"Guards! Seize him!" Ember boomed, and guards instantly rushed into the room. Iris's father screamed in shock and perhaps even pain as the guards surrounded him, grabbing his under arms.
"What...what are you doing? You said I could leave!" he exclaimed, fighting against the grip of the guards.
"Sir, you may be unaware, but it has recently been made illegal to participate in the ancient tradition of bride trading," Ember announced. "I do hope your gold will keep you warm in the dungeon, though my guards would be foolish to accept even a single coin, or they shall be thrown into the cell right beside yours."
With that, Ember gestured with a flick of his wrist for the men to drag him from the room.
"Where is Iris?" The man demanded shrilly, "I want to see my daughter! This is all a big misunderstanding!"
"My lord, will you tell her ladyship about this?" Filton whispered as the man was dragged away, hopefully never to be seen again. Ember's heart constricted and he shook his head, trying to clear it. With a deep sigh he then began to nod.
"She deserves to know her father is here. I have no right to keep it from her."
Chapter 19 - Iris
Her stomach had been in knots from the moment Ember had given her the news. When he had first been announced at her door, she’d been terrified that he was attempting to break another tradition by seeing his bride before the wedding. What he had told her after they had been guided to each other, back-to-back, had been so much worse. Though he had reached around to clutch her hand as he told her what had happened with her father, she had instantly become numb at the mention of him.
"I have to see him," she had decided out loud, and although Ember had protested, he had finally given her permission to do so, assuring her that their guests would wait for as long as she needed.
Walking down through the palace and entering the dungeons in a wedding dress was a most strange experience. While her surroundings were dark and dank, smelling of mold and damp, she was a radiant ray of light in white and pale lilac. Melia, who had accepted her position as handmaid, diligently carried the train of Iris's dress to be sure that it did not see a speck of dirt.
"Thank you,” Iris said to the guard who stopped outside a cell at the furthest end of one of the cell blocks. There was little light to see by, the only source coming from the lantern the guard was holding.
"Who...who’s there?" A voice came from the cell beside the one they stood before, and although it was shaky, filled with uncertainty, Iris recognized it immediately as the sickly voice of Perivale.
The partners in crime back together, Iris thought grimly. She did not deem Perivale worthy of a reply, and instead requested for the guard to unlock the door to her father's cell.
"Please, let me out of here. I don't belong down here," Perivale pleaded but instead of snapping at him that he deserved everything he got, Iris ignored him and stepped into the cell past the guard, who looked a little uncertain of his position in the situation.
"I won't be long," Iris assured him with a hand on his upper arm.
"I'll be right here if you need anything at all," he responded, offering her the lantern.
"Thank you," she said, taking it from him to hold it up before her. Inside the cell was nothing but bare walls of rock and moss. Somewhere inside, water dripped in an endless drip, drip, drip. The floor was scattered with foul smelling, brittle hay that looked as if it hadn't been changed in centuries, and there was an even fouler smelling bucket in one corner. The only good thing about the cell was the amount of space it provided, and Iris found she did not have to get close to the figure crouched at the far end with its arms wrapped around its knees.
Lifting the light closer, Iris recognized the balding head and slightly hunched shoulders of her father.
"Father," she whispered, struggling to say the word past the lump in her throat. Recognizing her voice, the trembling figure unfolded and scrambled to his feet. Chains rattled as he moved and he came up just short of her, just barely out of reach. Iris took a step back, narrowly avoiding stepping on Melia, who was still going about her work of protecting her dress.
"Oh, Iris! My daughter! You look stunning!" her father gasped and if Iris hadn't known better, she might have believed he was choked with pride. Instead, she was certain he was choked with hope. Her presence had given him hope that he would soon be freed.
Not a chance, Iris promised herself, knowing that even if she had a change of heart, Ember would likely put her back on the right track.
"Oh, sweetheart, what I wouldn't give to see you married!" he continued, gushing in a way that only made Iris feel sick. "I am so proud of you!"
It was the second time she had heard that in as many days, and yet, coming from her father, it made her loathe the word.
"You will never see anything but these four walls," Iris responded through gritted teeth. Her father's sharp intake of breath made her struggle not to flinch.
"You can't mean that!" he protested, "I am your father."
Iris closed her eyes and took a deep breath, regretting it when all the foul smells of the cell filled her nostrils. When she opened her eyes again, she announced, "You may be my father by blood, but you are not my father in any other way and you never will be again. You are nothing to me, and I shall see that you are never released from this cell."
The last part of her that had felt any love or loyalty to her father had died the moment Ember told her he had come to try and earn a prize for her hand in marriage, yet being the good person she was, she still felt remorse at his fate. Looking at the cell they were in, she wondered whether de-winging or even execution would be kinder.
No, he deserves no kindness.