She smoothed her dress and realised she still wore last night's fabric. Fingers unravelled lace and Rhosyn moved to her wardrobe. Normally Elin helped her, as she was useless with picking out what was proper. If Rhosyn had it her way, she'd wear something practical; simple, comfortable, easy to move in—to run, if needed.
Her hand brushed across a few dresses and she realised it was her choice. Contemplating one gown, her eyes caught on another. Blue, fitted, no corset needed, pretty and simple at the same time.
She struggled with the ties at the back, but she finally managed to navigate how to tighten the bodice after a few failed attempts. By the time Rhosyn caught herself in the mirror, she'd conceded that Elin was a godsend. Quickly running a hairbrush through her hair and washing her face, Rhosyn decided that enough time was wasted.
She left the crowding comfort of her bedroom, walking halls that didn't feel like her own. Her footsteps echoed double, Caerwyn's reverberating down the hall and back at them. It was a battle march and Rhosyn led.
There was no turning back now—Edrien made sure of that.
It somehow painted her into a corner, his narrow view and selfish mind forced her away from him. The only protection she had now was to marry as soon as possible. Thank the Saints that the wedding sat at the end of the week.
As long as Karsyn didn't bail out now, she could use this union to protect her, if in name only.
He wanted her uncle's safe and she wanted a sense of safety—ironic.
Rhosyn's hand paused on the office door, the soft marbled grooves under fingertips and with a breath, she pulled on the same composed stone-face she had a million times. Though it didn't seem to shield her from Karsyn, he still managed to read her.
Then she pushed through, the door opening and she expected to find the duke studying the safe he shook on.
But Karsyn wasn't standing staring at the vault of secrets as Rhosyn thought. He stood by her uncle's desk, a hand brushing polished wood and eyes seeing something more than an empty surface. He almost looked haunted.
His gaze rose when she entered and suddenly Rhosyn felt strangely bare, though she could feel the stiffness of her mask.
Her breath hollowed, heart stumbled and she struggled to put one foot in front of another.
She dipped into a curtsy. "Your Grace—"
"Rhosyn."
Her name stole her breath and she froze.
"Can you actually see a future with me?" he asked quietly. No teasing this time, no smirk—just the question.
Rhosyn stared at him. There were a dozen answers pressing at her throat. But none of them made it to her tongue.
"Are you going to back out if I don't?" she managed instead.
"No." The word left him on a breath. "No, Rhosyn. That choice is yours. If you tell me no, I'll walk away from this and face the king myself—you'll be safe from the north at the least..." he paused, fighting with the next words. "But I wouldn't be able to protect you from anyone else."
Her heart stuttered.
He offered her a way out, cleanly and nothing sounded so comforting as being given the option... Just an option. Which made it sound tempting, though she knew if she backed out now, she'd all but seal her fate.
At least with him she had a fighting chance—or any chance for that matter.
"My mother and father didn't marry for love," Karsyn went on, eyes on the window rather than her. "They married because the north needed it. The love came later, when we did. They made it work until trust and love found their way in."
He looked back at her. "Where I come from, marriage isn't a clever contract you tear up when it stops suiting you. We don't believe in divorce or neat annulments. It's a bond you make before God. The only thing that breaks it is death—just like the vows say."
Rhosyn's mouth felt dry. "You're not exactly selling it," she tried to jest, but it came out thin.
"I'm not trying to sell you anything," he said, taking a step toward her. "I'm trying to make sure you understand. If we do this, there is no remedy. Not in the north." A beat, a step. "But I will honour those vows. All of them. To protect you. To keep you. I won't let any other man take that role while I'm breathing."
It was probably the closest she had gotten to actually receiving a declaration—though not quite out of love. It was a contract he'd follow to the letter, she told herself—though she struggled to fully believe it.
Karsyn stood before her, but he didn't look like the northern duke she battled. He didn't even look like the mysterious stranger on a stony beach. There was something soft and raw in his eyes and Rhosyn dropped her gaze.
It stirred inside her and she clenched for impact.
If she said yes, there was absolutely no turning back. And though she never pictured her future, she found that when she imagined him not being there, it twisted within her and she hated it.
"Your Grace." Rhosyn tried wetting her tongue, eyes rising to meet his and she steadied herself. Her mouth opened and—
"My Lady, I found it!" Elin's voice tore through the room and Rhosyn paused, Karsyn's eyes flickering to her maid over her shoulder. "Oh..."
Rhosyn glanced over her shoulder, eyes catching on the elegant fabric gathered in Elin's arms.
She swallowed. "I'll be the one wearing the ivory dress," Rhosyn said at last, turning back to Karsyn and finding something amused in his eyes.
Something in his shoulders loosened. "Then I'll see you at the altar," he replied, mouth twisting into something warm and sure. "Try not to be late, Rhosyn."
"Have I ever been?" she replied, their casual candor returning and she couldn't help falling into it.
"Once," he hummed. "But it was your birthday, so I forgave you."
"You're so arrogant." She rolled her eyes.
"And you love it."
Something travelled through her and she refused to acknowledge it.
"I'll see you again in five days then," Karsyn said easily, claiming her hand before she could react and planting a kiss there like he had only weeks ago. "Until then."
He moved over to the door where Elin stood, stopped in front of her with a thoughtful expression on his face. She all but lost her composure, eyes wide and she shrank even more under his height.
"I'm glad you're feeling better, Elin." Karsyn nodded to her before leaving through the open door.
For a moment, they just stood there and watched him go in collected silence.
"My Lady?" Elin's voice came weak, heat sitting in her cheeks and Rhosyn had never seen the woman so flustered.
"I'm getting married," Rhosyn said, and the disbelief in her own voice almost made her laugh.
"You are, my lady." Elin's smile grew. "And you're smiling."
Rhosyn's fingers flew to her mouth, startled. Sure enough, Elin was right, a curve lived in her lips and for a traitorous moment, she enjoyed it.