It wasn't even midday yet, and Valens was already trying to ruin Domi's life. Only this time, the older worldholder had roped Arbita and Merula into doing his dirty work for him while Domi's arse of an aedificans lounged atop a divan in the corner of the man's spacious tablinum office and browsed a book like nothing was happening.

"Please just try to look natural, Basiluculus," Bellus murmured.

The mindholder was staring at Domi's face with unfocused eyes, promenia singing around him as well as in a strange quill he was using to draw in the air before him. Where the nib passed, golden and black promenia trailed, sweeping into an arrangement that soon resembled Domi's face and shoulders, his black laurel, his short, wavy black hair, olive skin, and brown eyes and--

"Why do we have to do my debutant portrait now? I don't want to get engaged yet. And what if someone sees?"

Bellus was blending something the man had called obfuscation promenia into the painting to prevent anyone from drawing a connection between Domi's appearance and his royal twin's, but he didn't trust it. How could a thin smudge of humming glitter and smoke meddle with people's minds so easily?

"The point is for someone to see," Arbita said, smiling as Bellus added a hint of a wry smirk to Domi's lips.

"But why?" Domi asked, crossing his arms and then unfolding them again when Bellus cleared his throat. "And why now?" He flicked a glare Valens's way. "Just because you're in some weird hurry to wed doesn't mean you need to go and marry me off too."

"Your aedificans is not marrying you off," Arbita said in her oh-so-reasonable voice, exchanging an amused glance with Merula that had Domi narrowing his eyes. "Not yet. But you are a Principis Heres now. And even if you were not, you are a Lightholder. Next year you will be old enough to wed, and it is important we begin considering your options now to ensure that we can secure you a good marriage."

Domi cast Merula an entreating look. Surely she was not going to just sit by and let them do this to him. "Ma..."

She wasted no time in destroying his hope for a quick escape from this travesty. "Don't whine at me, Dominulus. You will need someone nice to look after you."

"Like you needed someone?"

She shook her head. "Boy, I may be called the Rex Pullati on the streets, but I am still a Pullatus. You know I can't wed."

He snorted. Even if she could wed, his foster mother had never let any of her lovers stay for more than a few months when he was growing up. As soon as one started asking too many questions about Domi's origins, she always sent the man packing.

"And," she went on, nodding in approval as Bellus filled in a little more texture in Domi's hair, "I may not be a Principis Heres, but I know enough about the weight of responsibility to know that you will be better off if you have someone to help you carry it."

"You are a wiser woman than I expected, Erus," Arbita said, eying Merula with surprise.

Oh, Eyes devour.

Domi's foster mother arched a brow, and the weight of her attention swung the lifeholder's way. "Why is that unexpected, Promerenti?" she asked. "Because I am a Pullatus?"

Arbita blinked and then blushed. "I meant no offense."

Merula was not done with her. Domi's foster mother had not even gotten started. "The Promethidae would be wise to remember that there are many wise, intelligent, and capable people among the Pullati. Your—"

"I—"

"I'm talking."

Arbita stilled, and even Bellus's eyes widened in shock. Domi smirked. Pyrrhaei did not speak to Promethidae like this. Pyrrhaei groveled, especially if they had the misfortune of crossing paths with a Lightholder. But Merula was not most Pyrrhaei. Even Aix, in his disguise as the Dyer at least, shut up and listened when she spoke and attended her evening salutatio, not the other way around.

Merula shifted in her chair to face the Trueborn woman squarely. "Your people discard us to your own detriment when you could instead use us for everyone's benefit."

"Use you? The Pullati?" Arbita shook her head less in denial than confusion. "For what?"

Domi smiled. Now that his foster mother had a captive audience, it was a perfect time for Domi to leave. He edged toward the door, eying Bellus as the man continued painting with his dark gaze narrowed in concentration.

"Well," Merula said, "word on the street is that your kind is short on worldholders to run about inspecting our provincia's frontier lands. And the Pullati are short on work. Coin. We can't handle the magical stuff for you lot, but we can tell if a dam is leaking or the weather is getting out of whack and report to— Dominulus, you get back here right now."

Domi froze mid-step as his Ma's gaze snapped to him. He pasted on an innocent smile. "You two found something way more interesting to discuss than my marriage." He waved a hand in mock regality. "Carry on."

"Nice try," Arbita said dryly, tapping the chair next to her. Domi sighed and slumped into it. "And thank you for bringing us back on track." She did not look at Merula as she retreated back to the topic like a scared child leaping into a parent's lap. "It is good to start thinking of finding you a suitable girl now."

Domi frowned. "A girl?"

She smiled. "Do you prefer boys? Or nonbinary kids?"

He shrugged. "I don't prefer anybody." Except Radix. And Sidus. And maybe--no, she'd eviscerate him for even thinking it. He shivered away the thought. "So why do I have to limit myself?"

"Ah." Arbita waved off his concern. "You can take a lover. That's quite common. Eternal Radiance knows Valens and I will. Marriage is strictly for the sake of children and inheritance."

"And fortunately such things can be accomplished without physical congress," Valens said without looking up from his book.

"Bedding" Domi blushed as he said the word. "You mean bedding. Sex."

His Ma shook her head. "Domi, you are too young to talk about such things."

He stared at her incredulously. "But not too young for all of you to marry me off?"

"We won't marry you off for at least another year or so," Arbita said, "but yes. The last thing anyone wants for you is a rushed arrangement you have had no time to think about or make plans to avoid." She flicked an annoyed glance at Valens and he flipped a page in his book like he didn't notice. She sighed and turned back to Domi. "Now, look at this list I've created." She slid a sheet of parchment across the desk to him. "They are all young ladies of suitable families. Better than we might expect for someone of your background and lack of training, due to your... ah... unexpectedly high rank in the Compendium."

Domi scanned the list. Faces. Promenia-painted faces just like the one Bellus was drawing. Pretty, some of them, but also unfamiliar. "I don't know any of these people."

"Sometimes that's a blessing," Arbita said with another pointed look at Valens. Which he, of course, ignored. She shook her head and smiled at Domi. "But that is why we're doing this now, so you can meet some of the young ladies and get to know them before any decisions must be made."

Domi sighed. "I suppose."

"The list will likely change as your rank in the Compendium changes, Basiluculus," Bellus said, slipping his quill into a polished wooden case. The promenia image in the air dissipated like mist. "Especially if the Princeps Worldholder is able to acknowledge you soon. There may be some more familiar faces and some eligible youths of other genders when your pool of options widens. But as the Promerenti and Erus said, it is wise to begin reviewing your choices now."

"So," Arbita said. "Take the list to your room. Look over it and tell me if there are any girls you especially want to meet."

Domi took the list reluctantly, reviewing it as he retreated to his room. The face and shoulders of each of the eligible Lightholder girls had been drawn just like his own. How did they get on the parchment?

There was not a single hint of golden bands around their laurels to mark any of them as Empowered; they were all Trueborns, then. The girls belonged to every lineage except starholder.

He could see a hint of movement in each image and feel a slight impression of personality as he scanned each. Focusing harder on an image caused information to blossom within his mind's eye, and he gasped in shock at the unexpected invasion. Pedigree. Accomplishments. Ambitions. Even details about the kind of work they most enjoyed doing within a curia.

Domi wondered why work preferences mattered. Were spouses often assigned duties together? That could be nice, if he met someone he enjoyed being around. They could go on adventures together, maybe not so close to the night-side as in the borderlands, but still, out in the wilderness. If she liked that kind of thing. If she liked him.

A moment later the faint smile he had not even realized was touching his lips fell from his face. What was he thinking? No matter what happened, there would never, ever be wilderness work or normal assignments within the curia for him. He had no idea what the siblings and heirs of the other Princeps did with their lives, but there would be no adventure in his future. There could be no adventure. Not when adventure involved danger and danger to Domi could reverberate back to endanger the Princeps Worldholder, the Trellis, and Aquarius.

He glared down at the list. Arbita and Valens probably wanted him to tell them which girls he found prettiest or the ones he thought he might be able to have the most interesting conversations with.

But as he looked at each young face, all he saw were girls who might end up with the misfortune of being stuck with him. Girls who might become widows if he could not get his powers under control and died. Girls who might find themselves raising fatherless children all alone.

Or worse, if his royal brother died and Domi somehow lived, one of these girls could end up stuck as the wife of a Princeps and the mother of a future Princeps. Yet none of them could possibly know that they were being considered for such a role. If they saw Domi's face on some list, all they would see was a boy rising mysteriously through the Compendium rankings, not the life-altering future that lay in wait for them if they joined their lives with his.

How was he supposed to decide who to saddle with such a burden? What right did he even have to decide such a thing for any of these girls?

He swallowed and, opening his desk drawer, shoved the list atop his primer on reading, then slammed it shut.

He could not do this. Not now. He had no right.