She turned to face him. A flicker of strain swam in his eyes. But there was no other sign of his worry. His thumb stroked her waist in small, steady motions, like he was trying to soften the moment before it broke. Valric's words coming back to hit her, he does care about you.
"Leoric," she answered. His name, a song on her tongue, yet it felt tasteless now.
He was costing her and she couldn't afford to lose. Not the respect she commanded, or the strength she had when fighting him.
"I think we should talk about this later," he turned back to the old duke. Angst replaced by steel.
"Will there be a later, Leoric?" Caldren asked sincerely and Leoric's expression darkened.
Those in the room who were listening in, quickly retreated into their own conversations. No one wanted to get too close to the two northern dukes.
"We've already spoken about this, Bram."
"Come on, Uncle, Leoric," Tor hushed into the close space between them all. "Not here out of all places.
Rhosyn glanced at Caldren, saw the resolve set behind kind eyes. Turned to Leoric, his anger slipping through the cracks of his composure; his fixed stare, short, quick breaths and tension in his jaw.
Tor looked worried. As if this was the first time the two dukes disagreed and he didn't know how to pick a side.
"That's enough," Rhosyn said—quiet, absolute. "Office. Now."
She led them to the back staircase—an access most of the castle ignored— disguised as any other panelled wall. In the alcove hidden from the hall, she pressed her palm into the hidden catch. A panel released with a soft click and swung inward. The stairwell swallowed them—narrow and all but forgotten.
"When did you discover these?" Caldren asked behind her.
"Shortly after moving here," she tossed back. "I got bored of archery and went wandering."
Caldren chuckled.
"You're sneaky," Leoric murmured at her ear, humour threading the words.
"No more than you are, Your Grace."
Rhosyn reached for the exit's handle, Leoric's hand coming up to pause her.
"Try this one." He reached around her body, skimming her stomach and sliding a screen masquerading as a wall in the dark. It folded out of sight revealing a door—he reallywassneaky.
She tried pushing it, but it didn't budge.
"Here."
Leoric stepped up onto the little landing. His chest pressed flush against her back as his arms flanked her, hands clasping at grooves and he tugged it side-wards. The door groaned—wood waking against wood—then slid aside to reveal his office.
Rhosyn stepped into it, turning to discover that the door was in fact one of the many bookcases on wheels, hidden by the decorated skirting.
Leoric smirked as he entered, obviously finding her curiosity amusing.
"Designed as escape passages in case the walls were ever breached," he explained. "Most of them have been boarded up."
Which made sense. Rhosyn encountered many dead ends and had to double back. But she hadn't thought that there might be hidden panels in the dark that accessed other exits.
Clearly her face reflected all this, because Leoric watched her all too smug. She hated it. It was the first time he looked at her like that since the day he introduced her to Valric—the day they'd woken up in each other's arms. It felt too long ago and the feeling that stole over her, a traitor.
She focused on the room as the last head ducked through the passage—Valric. His usual cheerful self as he slid the bookcase back into place and offered her a reassuring wink. He might not be able to read her, but he knew how to read a room and this one vibrated with dubious energy.
Tor rocked on the balls of his feet. Caldren settled into an armchair as if unbothered. Caerwyn repositioned by the office doors, eyes never leaving Rhosyn. The two brothers huddled in the corner, Valric whispering something low to Leoric.
A demanding knock—sharp, impatient—rapped at the door. Caerwyn's hand going to his hilt.
"That's just Thorne, let her in," Valric called over his shoulder.
Tor pushed off from the arm of a chair, heading for the door. The sound of another set of feet entering, along with a contemplating hum.
It wouldn't be the first time a room knew something Rhosyn didn't. Her gaze locking bitterly with Caerwyn's for a brief moment.
At least she had some allies. She glanced at Caldren who lounged, yet nothing about his eyes suggested relaxation. Then she sought Valric, who now leant against the desk, seemingly in his usual spot.
The remaining people moved around the room into position, like pieces on a board; Tor returning to lean against the chair, Thorne somewhere behind her and Leoric standing before her—and Rhosyn stood in its centre.
No one spoke. Perhaps they didn't dare.
Leoric's eyes never left Rhosyn. That same hard, steel, softened only by the curve of his brow. If a man could demand and plead at the same time, it was Leoric. Invoking conflicting feelings within her and he tracked the war across her face.
"You might as well tell me what's happening, Leoric." Rhosyn stood slightly straighter. "We both know I'll find out either way."
He barely caught the flinch that splashed across his features. Grounding his jaw tighter as he contemplated. She could see the war he fought within himself. It rippled in the tension of his fist clenching and relaxing.
Then released in an explosive breath. "You have to promise me you'd listen." His eyes implored, though the rest of his face sat rigid. "I mean it Rhosyn, you do things that not even a seasoned veteran would do."
Valric smothered his laughter.
Rhosyn took a step. "I'm not made of glass, Leoric. I'm not going to break," she retorted. "I took you and the north on as the rhetoric slowly built up—and I'm here." Rhosyn held out her arms as if proving the point. "I've been mobbed. Shot at. Attempted poisoning—" though that wasn't them, "—and I'm alive."
She saw the thought that entered Leoric's mind—for now.
He believed she'd put herself in danger. Caerwyn agreed.
Rhosyn glanced around the room, catching the stares of onlookers. Read the reluctant accord in Tor's shoulders. Valric compassionate eyes expressing mutual understanding. Even Caldren looked like he agreed—even if he disagreed with Leoric's silence.
The secret would expose her to endanger herself. Because it was something she cared about... Though she couldn't understand what.
"For once, I agree with the southerner," Thorne broke the fragile spectators' silence.
Rhosyn turned to the older woman, seeing her cold, rigid expression.
"If we're going to win this, we need to all be working together. Lady Valewyn earnt her right in all that. She's another mind we can't do without."
Leoric looked like he was going to rip off her head.
Rhosyn glanced around the room and found that everyone was either nodding or agreed to a certain degree. The room was against Leoric, not her, and he could see it.
He looked torn as he glared at her. "They don't know you like I do."
Her stomach flipped. He was right, they didn't.
Which meant whatever secret he'd been wrestling with not telling her was one that she'd likely do reckless things to battle. Rhosyn's eyes flickered to Caerwyn and she saw that he agreed.
She still had to know.
"Alright, I promise." Rhosyn stood straighter. It was a hard thing submitting to someone. Even harder when it was Leoric.
He studied her face for a moment longer in unreadable blankness. Looking for the honesty bleeding through her pride.
He let out a sigh.
Turned to a bookcase, pulled out one of the larger tomes, flipping it open and pulling out a thick piece of parchment. He held it out to her, a storm swirling in his winter eyes and she closed the space. Rhosyn took the paper from him, the noticeable scent of cedar and leather clouding her. His heat poured over her and she found it hard to breathe without breathing him in.
Turning from Leoric, she ran her eyes over the document. It was an authentic declaration from Queen Elowen, counter-signed by both Uncle Halvar and Duke Guldron of Hawksmoor. It all but declared Edrien illegitimate. He was the fifth bastard Halvar wrote about.
This would tear the kingdom apart.
Yet it still didn't make sense.
"Why would you go to war over Edrien's illegitimacy?" she argued, circling the room to read their faces. "I thought you wanted to legitimise lords' power. Something that'll balance the Crown's rule."
"We do," Caldren answered, his expression sober and serious.
Rhosyn turned until her eyes fell on Valric. His cheeky grin, gone, replaced by a solemn disposition. Surely he didn't believe he should rule instead—trading one bastard for another.
She felt Leoric watching her. Reading how she took the information—and she wasn't taking it well.
Rhosyn forced herself to meet Leoric's gaze. He was a hammer of judgement that she faltered under. Spying her tells that betrayed her.
Why would he believe she'd have any remaining loyalty to Edrien? Why would this paper compel her to risk herself, or push her from Leoric?
Then it hit her. The Queen's declaration wasn't the secret. It was only part of it. He was weighing whether she could handle the rest.
The room knew it.
She'd been slow. Half a step behind and she was embarrassed by how rusty she'd let herself become.
"So why have you declared war?" she finally asked.
His fingers slipped into her hand—almost shy, questioning. His same request imploring from his eyes.
"King Alestan declared you a traitor to the realm and demanded you be surrendered to him," Leoric said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard. Though she felt it in her bones.
The room tipped.
Nausea twisted inside her and she felt herself pale.
His thumb ghosted her hand and she found herself clutching his. She couldn't remember if she fell into his chest or if he wrapped his arm around her first. Legs wobbly and her knees buckled.
She was wrong. It wouldn't just cost the kingdom its freedom—but hers too.
Though. Right now. She needed him. Lest she fall apart.