She listens like a stone through the deliverance, eyes as gold as her brother’s, as her father’s, flat like coins on marble. He doesn’t wobble, or slur- an officer gets very good at appearing sober on command if he wants to get anywhere in the army. The girl has gotten very good at not flinching, he notes- though it might just be the shock she’s still swimming through. He’s seen it take young soldiers like that, the first big boom of the rockets freezing them like a water-witch’s blast, and sometime they don’t break out of it for months.

Sometimes never at all.

“You will be kept on my family estate. Make no mistake- you will give no orders, nor be allowed out except by my leave. Your education will be in the hands of my mother, and I strongly suggest that you pay close attention. You will not shame me!” he barks, and she jolts. Something in her mask cracks, and the rage that shines through the fear is- interesting.

He studies her for a moment, the moonlight and the setting and the alcoholic haze anything but romantic.

Perhaps there’s some potential to this girl after all. But potential or no, he is an admiral now, and about ten years sooner than he’d planned. Let the raising of children be left to those with more skill at it- he has a war to win.

“When I return- I expect to find a wife befitting an admiral waiting for me.”

.....

The next day the fleet sets sail, and he sails with it.