A cry echoed in the dark and Rhosyn sat bolt upright. Breaths desperate and heart racing. She blinked at the blackness in front of her. The bare wash of moonlight scored against shapes of furniture she remembered.
Her bedroom.
A four-poster bed surrounded her and the startled call that'd woken her still vibrated in the air.
Hemsgate Palace. Edrien. Her baby...
It was not real.
Rhosyn gripped her stomach, tears clouding her vision though there was nothing for her to see in the darkness.
Before the yelp died, the door burst open, Leoric stepping in the room, blade up, stance set. His eyes scanned the room, a thin line of light flashing across his face.
It wasn't Leoric. Valric's dark locks spilled across his brow as he looked for the threat. With eyes far better than hers, he blinked, perplexed and relaxed.
"Sorry, I heard you scream and..." he explained, sheathing his sword.
Four days, and the castle had changed around her.
Whenever Sir Caerwyn rested, Valric took over. Whenever she entered a room, it went a little too quiet. Leoric didn't smile like he had a week ago, like he did in the town. He didn't even try to reach for her and she found distance building between them.
She'd spent most of her time in the office, alone or with Valric, deciphering more letters. It became her only comfort. Shuffling through letters, trying to piece a story together that Uncle Halvar orchestrated. She'd found two more variations of the cipher, adding new types of messages. Lord Aldermere's, was often related to the Crown. Lord Cedran's decoded letters often related to general affairs, and Lord Wycombe's entailed relations and rumours.
Slowly, puzzle pieces were being slotted together. But often it'd describe something Rhosyn struggled to understand. It felt too slow and too many words.
No matter how she'd tried to distract herself. A looming dread filled her that Valric might be right—though she wouldn't tell him even if he was. Her body had been… late. And the thought stalked her in the dark like another intruder. Haunted her dreams and spoiled them.
Maybe it was just stress. She'd once skipped her monthly bleed after her uncle died. That was what it was—stress.
Rhosyn shook her head as if that'd clear it and sighed. "I just had a nightmare," she lamented.
Valric tilted his head, reading the expression on her face. But she knew by now he wasn't like his brother. He couldn't spot the tells of slight strain in her features like Leoric so easily did. Valric had a different quality to him.
He was refreshingly, and sometimes annoyingly, candid.
"If you want to talk about it, they say it helps," he offered, crossing the room and pulling a chair close.
A hint of pine resin and smoke filled the space as he sat nearby. Rhosyn's eyes adjusted to the limited light, sweeping over his sharp cheekbones and long face. His eyes mirrored Leoric's so cleanly, yet they didn't look like he did—not the same weight or keenness.
She bit her lip, balled her legs in her arms and pillowed her head against her knees.
What she quickly learnt about Valric. He was easy to talk to.
"It was about Edrien," she started, his expression unchanged by the name. "I was pregnant and after giving birth, I returned to Hemsgate Palace—"
"Don't." Valric cut her words off, agitation burning in his eyes. A fury she'd seen before in Leoric, only with more bite.
His usual cheery demeanour all but evaporated, replaced by a suffocating anger. His knuckles bled white. Jaw ticked with tension. A cold hardness set in his eyes.
"Valric—"
"Just promise me you won't go back to the palace after giving birth. Ever." He gritted out.
All Rhosyn could do was nod, the faintest whisper of "yes," ghosting the air.
Valric shifted back into his relaxed composure. Cutting the ice from the mood. Restructuring the space into something more open again. But Rhosyn's expression didn't lift with it and he raised a brow in question.
"...He separated us," she continued, lost in her thoughts. "He was king. Forced Leoric and my son north. Gave me my duchy, but..." her words died out.
"You wanted to go home," Valric finished her sentence, her deep blue eyes sinking into his gaze, searching for comfort. "Don't worry, my new sister," softness entered his voice and eyes. "Leo won't let anything happen to you—and neither will I."
He stood and planted a light kiss on her forehead.
"We are family after all, sister." With a comforting smile, he turned and headed for the door.
Rhosyn didn't have family. Only the one she made from friends and bonds built from laughter and pain—but this was different. She married into this one and she could be growing an extension of it inside her. Rhosyn was tying herself into the very construct of their House and she actually felt like she belonged.
Yet even that seemed to be fraying.
"Valric." She caught him short of the threshold. His curious eyes found hers in the dark. "Do you know why Leoric's been..." She searched for the word, not ready to damn him.
An easy smirk slipped across his face. "He's just been busy with lords and planning the next part of the plan—is all. I'm sure everything will go back to normal soon enough," he reassured.
The words didn't stick. A looming apprehension burrowing between her ribs.
"He does care about you, you know, right?"
She'd started to see that he probably did. Which was arguably worse.
Rhosyn knew what caring made people do. She'd cared for Edrien, to the point that she even offered her hand in marriage to their enemy to protect him. Love was a dangerous thing. It begged to sacrifice.
If Leoric cared enough, it could cost the kingdom something it couldn't afford.
It's freedom.
Rhosyn nodded in the dark, though she wasn't sure if Valric could spot the slight movement. "Goodnight Valric," she murmured, keeping her voice light.
"Goodnight, sister. Remember, I'm just here," he replied as he slipped from the room, the sound of the door's latch clicking into place.
Silence became a deafening thing and her bed offered no peaceful solutions.
Only more fears.
Morning couldn't have come sooner. Rhosyn found comfort in the noise the castle made; maids and runners, dashing about to complete their duties. A little more hurried than usual. Their gazes barely caught hers before they were on to their next task.
Rhosyn paused mid-stride, catching the carefully blank look that Sir Caerwyn wore and the little tell in the way his lips pressed, ever so slightly more intensely together, than normal. He was hiding something that worried him—which meant it was something worth worrying.
"My Lady?" Caerwyn asked, noticing her hesitating on her next step.
Maybe today wasn't the day for archery.
"I was just wondering," she said, Caerwyn's gaze intensifying and a tick in his jaw popped. "There was something that Valric said last night about Leoric that I want to investigate." Every word she chose was deliberate as she watched Caerwyn attempt to hide his unease at certain words.
The thing that Caerwyn was worried about—was her. Even more than usual.
She turned down a different corridor, Caerwyn already rushing to catch up.
"My Lady," he said with urgency, knowing she'd caught something in his demeanour. "What was it that Valric said, maybe I can help clarify?" he all but begged.
"Just that Leoric has been busy with the—" her own words cut herself off.
Thoughts bubbling to the surface and she'd finally realised all the fuss in the past few days. Maids rushing to clean rooms. Runners rushing to deliver messages.
The south-wing.
A part of the castle she hadn't bothered with since she'd first arrived. An odd extension only used for guests.
At first she didn't pay heed to the lights in the windows of the rooms. Now she felt foolish.
Valric hadn't lied to her at least. Leoric had been busy with lords, and the whole castle flitted around her as if she was a delicate ornament that'd break. If this was how Leoric cared—purposefully suffocating her from the issues surrounding her—then she wished he didn't care.
It made sense why Caerwyn worried. He was worried she'd do something reckless. And maybe she will.
The lively energy pouring from the hall hit Rhosyn first—then the voices: a clamour of alarm and urgency. Her skirts flared as she rounded the corner, striding in, and the hall opened up before her.
The hall was bustling with more lords than the first time Rhosyn stumbled across the Northern Bloc. Nobles from positions as low as barons and knights. The numbers swelled and Rhosyn wondered how Leoric had kept an army of aristocrats hidden from her. But then again, he didn't do it alone. He had everyone helping him.
She shot Caerwyn a look, though it was wasted. He wasn't looking at her. Rhosyn followed his gaze and found herself staring into stormy winter eyes—Leoric's.
He didn't look happy to see her. Fine.
The rest of him was shuttered—storm-grey eyes gone flat, mouth set too neat, as if he'd packed himself away. It was control. Which was almost considerate of him, really. If she couldn't read him, it meant she was already too close to the truth.
He was caught up talking to a number of men Rhosyn didn't know. By their attire and mannerisms, they were minor lords. Maybe even earls. By the way Leoric's lips moved, she knew he was trying to wrap up the conversation.
"Lady Rhosyn."
Her name called to her and she turned to find Duke Caldren approaching with a warm smile and kind eyes.
"Your Grace," she curtsied, which he laughed and waved off her formality.
"It's good to see you, I was wondering when we'd cross paths," he said, radiating warmth in calm confidence. "I started to think Leoric was hiding you away."
Interesting.
By her recollection, Leoric withdrew from her four days ago. The south-wing was prepared three days ago. Lights only appearing, maybe two days ago. Which meant he was hiding this very meeting from her and Rhosyn wanted to know why.
"No," she hummed with humour, curling her lips into a pleasant shape and feeling her old composure slip into place. "I've just been a little under the weather, but I am feeling much better now."
Caldren's concern tweaked in his brows. "Nothing too serious I hope."
"Of course not," she waved away his worry. "In fact, I'm glad I didn't miss the gathering."
The castle might be in on concealing whatever secret Leoric commanded. But Caldren wasn't of the castle and he seemed to think she was Leoric's equal. All but said it last time they met.
"I think it'd do good that you both remain close in times like these." He nodded, a serious weight crossing his features and in that brief glimpse, she saw experience and wisdom of a man who'd waged war all his life.
An eerie clatter split the room. The sound was lost in the din of conversation and clink of wine glasses. Then Rhosyn felt it. The heaviness in the room. The moment when bad news announced itself in presence alone. Like a rolling storm, ominous and threatening.
Her eyes sought Leoric's and she saw how he read her. He itched to dismiss himself from his conversation, but it clearly held him pinned.
If Rhosyn was going to figure out what the secret was, she was running out of time.
She turned back to Caldren, his old eyes haunted by something Rhosyn couldn't see. Though his mouth smiled with genuine tenderness. It was a look her uncle wore often. Normally shortly before writing one of his letters—the ones that ended up in the safe, the ones for her.
Before either of them could open their mouths, a new one filled the space. "Uncle, Lady Rhosyn," Tor exclaimed, grinning widely as he skidded to a halt in between Rhosyn and the old duke. "How are we doing tonight?" he half-gulped down a breath, trying to catch it in his rush over here.
"Good, considering the situation," Caldren replied. "No wonder you've been a little unwell, with regard to the situation."
Tor fidgeted. Head tossing over his shoulder nervously. He itched with apprehension as his uncle spoke.
"Uncle, in hopes not to stress Lady Rhosyn out by it more, I feel it's best we avoid the subject," he pressed—a little too quickly.
"As I've already told Leoric, I disagree," Caldren said, undeterred and Tor went still. "I think we're stronger when we work together."
Hope bubbled up inside her and Rhosyn reassessed the old duke.
There was an aging quality to the knowledge that lined his face in wrinkles. He contemplated deeply. Weighed something heavy, like grief, years before his life should've experienced it. He held a guilt in his shoulders, that he minimalised with his stubborn pride—much like she did. He felt familiar in a hundred ways, yet her mind kept screaming Uncle Halvar—and it didn't quite fit.
Tor glanced at Rhosyn, unsure with his next words—he was stuck between two dukes. "I'm just following orders," he lamented.
"So are soldiers when they're sent to war. They're still accountable—for action or inaction," Caldren scolded. "Unless you've forgotten the animals who raid our coasts."
"Of course I don't, Uncle."
"So you agree that Lady Rhosyn has a right to know."
Tor remained silent, flexing his jaw, gaze failing to raise to meet hers.
He wasn't the only one who fell silent in the room. The hush cut clean around them, others falling quiet in response. Whispers faltered.
Caldren's paling blue eyes snapped to movement and Rhosyn feltLeoric's hand brushed her back—light, uncertain—then settled at her waist like he needed the reminder she was still there.
"Duke Bram," Leoric's voice, level and polite.
"Duke Leoric," Caldren replied in kind.
"Rhosyn," Leoric whispered close to her ear—a plea dressed as a greeting.