Matilda had fidgeted in front of her old, dingy mirror for nearly an hour, trying to get her hair to stay neatly under the white bandanna her mother had given to her for the evening. An hour longer than she ever spent trying to tame her hair.

“Ooooohhh,” Matilda's mom cooed from the doorway. “Someone's busy.”

“It's just dunner, mom,” Matilda sniffed, trying to act much more confident than she really felt. She smoothed the front of her pale blue dress for the tenth time that hour. It was a lovely, sky blue color with white trim that her mother had made for her in the case that she ever need something more “proper” than her usual garb.

“I know,” her mother said, taking a step in. “I do just... just wish you'd make this kind of effort – at least give some of the other boys around here a shot... I know a few are coming of age this year. You really at least need to try to -”

Matilda rolled her eyes. “Yeah I know. Get married just so I can spend the rest of my life cooking and cleaning just so some man will support me and have my kid.”

A moment later she felt sick with herself for her outburst. Mary-Cathryn's eyes widened at her remark, then a look of sheer disappointment clouded over.

“I... ugh, I'm sorry mom.”

The slender woman shook her head. “I understand your concerns, dear. You know I do.” She reached out a hand and Matilda obligingly took it.

“I just keep thinking... what if there is no one here for me?”

“Where else can you look?”

“I don't know... I just wish I didn't have to do all this 'get married' stuff. I want to make it on my own, not rely on anyone else.”

“I know.” Mary-Cathryn squeezed Matilda's hand gently.

“It's all so... superficial.”

~~~~

Dinner with Squire Castor Boniface had gone very well indeed and Matilda had forced herself to keep any snarky or “smart” comments to a minimum. She had even managed to pull all of her hair up into a loose and rather pretty bun, if she could say so herself. It had been very nice, just her and her best friend, having an incredible dinner that Castor had made entirely himself – banana bread, a few servings of turkey cooked with sage, some grapes and carrots. They ate with a few candles lit and an oil lamp inside his modest residence beside the regime barn. All of the squires had their own small but well-provided homes, complete with name plaques above their doors.

“Thanks for the dinner, Cas,” Matilda said again. She stood beside him patiently as he locked up his room. “Especially that banana bread! It was amazing – I didn't know you could bake,” she teased.

He smiled. “When we come back, you can take the rest of it with you. I knew you'd like it.” He turned and pocketed the key in his vest. “Wharf or woods tonight?”

Matilda smiled.

“Woods?” he raised an eyebrow, smile playing along his lips.

Matilda nodded, and fell into stride beside him. “So... you wanted to tell me something.”

“Yes,” Castor replied, more serious. Matilda glanced sideways at him and caught him looking downward, his brow furrowed in concentration. She remained silent, not wishing to try him any further.

“I know...” he began, “Your mother has been getting on you about... you know....”

“-Yeah. Getting suitors. I – wait...” Irritated at first, she frowned severely, but then stopped and looked at him. “How do you know about that?”

“You know how she likes to tell me things,” Castor replied innocently.

“Waaaaiiiit...” Matilda threw her head back. “Is that what this is all about?”

“No,” Castor cut in, “But it is going to matter. You know your mother needs the help.”

Matilda realized she was holding her left elbow with her right hand crossed over her front – a tell-tale nervous behavior, as Castor so often pointed out. She frowned as she knew Castor was right.

“There's only so much time 'til things run out.”

They crossed the cobblestone pathway and began to head into the woods. The moon shone down bright, lighting their way with the aid of lights from the houses at the end of the wharf next to the ridge of tall trees.

“And more people are coming of age this year. Just keep an open mind, will you? And don't pull a stunt like you did last time to that Edward bloke...”

Matilda tried to hide a smirk from her friend as she reminisced.

“Anyway,” Castor shrugged, “This isn't what I wanted to talk about.”

He reached into a pocket from inside of the vest and procured a wrapped up document. “I got this the other day.”

“What...” Matilda eyed it cautiously, “...what is it?”

“It's... something of a drafting order.”

Matilda's eyes shot up to his face. The shadows from the moon lit up his features and for a moment Matilda was drawn into his deep, bright, tawny-orange eyes as he stared intently at her, arm still outdrawn, grasping the letter.

“What does that mean?” Matilda whispered, ignoring the roll of parchment. She could see the subtle wrinkles behind his eyes twitching as he focused on her.

“I leave in 2 days. I will continue my training with my knight and Balfour. I have to travel with them... because I'll be on call in case... they need me.”

“But you'll die!” Matilda suddenly wailed, uncontrollably. Castor started. She flailed her hands in the air, eyes wide, terror streaking through her body.

Castor straightened up and replaced the letter in his coat pocket. “Not necessarily -”

He stopped and stood rigid as Matilda threw her arms around his neck. “But you can't die,” she whispered. “You can't.”

“I promise you,” Castor responded, putting his hands on her back in a gentle embrace, “I won't.”

Matilda squeezed her eyes shut as tears streamed down her face and she tightened her grip around him, burying her face in his shoulder before looking up. “You shouldn't make promises you don't know you can keep.”