If you roll your eyes any further, Linwen, they shall get stuck that way. Her mother's frequent joke kept knocking around in Linwen's head. Her mother would certainly have reminded her about that possibility tonight, as Linwen did not think she had ever rolled her eyes so much in her life.

She shifted with annoyance on her chair. The Inn, unimaginatively named so by Brigend when he had established it a decade ago, was the host to her and Bregor's wedding dinner, and from her vantage point at the head table—on Bregor's left side—she had a commanding view of the institution's loud, grimy, and smoke-filled main room. She was also audience to some of Bregor's most inane, brutish, and lewd comments, which he bandied about with his companions. Thankfully, he had paid her little personal attention, other than noticing her emptied plate and telling her not to eat so much. This caused him to embark on an anecdote, saying, "My father married a beautiful woman. Her name is Thalias, and I hear tell that on her wedding day, she was as slender as a doe and twice as graceful. Now look at the fat moose he's got next to him!" He gestured to his mother's plump frame at the other end of the table.

Linwen silently apologized for any unkind thoughts she had sent Thalias earlier. It was probably a good thing that the woman had some extra bulk on her body, having had to push out the unfortunately large and bulbous-headed baby that Bregor must have been. Linwen saw her own exasperation reflected in Thalias' face as she glanced down the table, and thought That is surely an expression exclusive to women who tire of the men around them. Had her mother said that too?

Bregor took the hearty laughter of his drunken companions as a sign to continue his verbal command of the room. "I suppose this moment is as good as any for a few well-chosen words on this joyous occasion!" Linwen wanted desperately to hide her face or look down, but she supposed it would seem rude. She dreaded any reference to her that Bregor could possibly make, since he knew barely anything about her apart from her family connections. She was sure his words would be embarrassing, and she was not disappointed.

"I should like to thank my good father for his generosity this night! It is long since my friends and I have been so well fed and watered!" Inebriated cheers erupted around the room. It was clear that it was not water in their steins.

"Many thanks also to Esgal, uncle of my good wife here," Bregor patted the back of her chair, startling her into looking up, "for planting idea of this match in the head of my father, Brigend. Without them, we would have no reason to be drinking tonight! Not that that would stop us from drinking anyway! True, men?" As his friends yelled in the affirmative, Bregor tipped his stein towards Linwen's uncle, who gave a small, awkward wave in reply. Linwen felt a stab of hatred toward Esgal, and she hoped he somehow knew it.

By this point, their party had become so loud as to attract the attention of all the bar's patrons. Linwen could see that most of them had paused their own conversations and had turned their heads in Bregor's direction, unable to hear their companions over his racket. It was unfortunate, then, that Bregor chose this moment to remark, "And thanks, of course, goes to my new companion, Linwen. She is truly the picture of a perfect wife tonight." He paused to toast his glass to her with a smirk, "This is because she has not opened her mouth once!"

The male voices erupted in laughter, but Linwen balled her fists in anger. She wanted to retort something angrily, about Bregor never shutting up the entire night, perhaps, but she was sure that she would only be further ridiculed.

"She will tonight, though!" Bregor added to his previous comment, speaking in a mock whisper that was clearly audible to the entire main room. That was enough to set his friends howling, and cause Linwen finally to hide her face in her hands. She had never been more mortified in her life. Her mind reeled in unpleasant directions concerning the coming night. She quickly repressed the thoughts, as she had been doing for months. She felt as though Bregor held the upper hand tonight; she saw no way to challenge his improper remark, and neither her aunt nor her uncle was willing to risk the advantageous match to do so. Was marriage supposed to feel like a war?