“I didn’t want to have this conversation yet, but it’s just as well,” he said shortly. “It was no accident that you met Mark Trevena last night. You will be seeing much more of him over the coming months—and years.” There was something in his tone—in his face—that made my skin prickle, my muscles tense. Danger. After years and years in the dojo, my body often recognized danger before my mind could catch up. “I will?” I asked, unable to modulate the wariness in my voice. “Yes,” my father said. “Because you are to marry him.”
