Her breath came heavy by the last step of the stairs and she told herself her corset was too tight. It was late and the balcony was all but empty, music and chatter whisking up from below.
She hadn't reached the banister when shoes hit floorboards behind her and she felt the space darken slightly.
"I've heard you've been asking around about me, Lady Valewyn," Duke Karsyn's voice crept up her spine and ran down her arms.
With a composing breath, Rhosyn spun on her heel. He leaned against the far wall beside the stairs, arms folded and a face that held its cards close. But his eyes—they watched, intense and cutting.
"What ladies told you this?" she challenged. The thunder of the party at her back and a cold storm ahead of her.
"You southern lords and ladies seem to forget that the staff have ears." The duke kicked off the wall, closing the distance between them with very deliberate steps—one—"If the king didn't want his staff so easily bought—" two, "—he'd inspire more loyalty amongst his people—" Three. "—Don't you agree, Lady Valewyn?" mockery dripped from his words, distasteful and petty.
He was flexing. Warning her that the walls have ears and he's paid them well.
"But more importantly, I hear you've been asking about what women I prefer to bed."
Teeth flashed and he's enjoying it all too much. The way Rhosyn shrunk under his height, the heat pressing dangerously in her cheeks. He was as vicious with his words as it was said—using them as daggers to twist into his opponents.
"I can't say I'm much into brunettes, but I could make an accept—"
"Duke Karsyn," Rhosyn cut him off before anymore could be said.
He was deliberately speaking openly, the balcony overlooking the ballroom below them, a perfect audience for his performance. Music vibrated across her shoulders and in her chest, loud enough to drown them out—for now.
"There has been a misunderstanding."
The duke chuckled, amused by her stammering to gain control of the situation.
"Sounds like a common occurrence in the south." Karsyn took a step too close, his body mere inches away and the look of amusement dissolved into what looked like boredom. "No matter, I'll leave unsatisfied then, Lady Valewyn."
He turned away swiftly, every step a graceful decision.
Then he paused.
"Oh," humour tinted his voice, his steel cold eyes peeking around to meet hers, "but if your interests shall fall on me again, Lady Valewyn, I'd be most intrigued in what flatters you most."
His lips pulled into a half smirk before he turned again, his form retreating down the hallway. He carried himself like a duke, a man of power and etiquette. But his lips curled in ways and uttered things that only harlots would entertain.
He was as callous and crass as she'd imagined. Fitting, for a man of the north.
Now it was time to find Lord Dowly—and quickly.
She scanned over the hall from above, Edrien still twirling with Lady Ann, his eyes flickering up to meet hers and she saw the questions written on his face.
Footsteps hit the top step and Rhosyn rounded on the person. Her stomach twisting, heart jumping and she only relaxed when she saw Sir Caerwyn's face.
"My Lady," he saluted with fist on heart. "You need to be careful—"
"I need to find Lord Dowly," Rhosyn cut him off. She'd heard enough caution tonight and didn't need to be chastised for making a mistake.
Caerwyn simply nodded.
"I passed him on the way up here, My Lady," he reported, sidestepping for her to take the lead and so she did.
The cold that haunted the halls, long since dispersed and Rhosyn wondered if stories of ghosts and phantoms were merely the paranoia left from one's own terror.
Comforted by her knight, she stepped into the crowd—lords and ladies so consumed by vanity they noticed nothing else. Rhosyn deferred to Caerwyn, his eyes pointing silently to an alcove by an exit and she was already moving.
True to his word, there stood Dowly, leaning against the stone wall staring off across the hall in Lady Naome's direction.
"My Lord, a moment of your time please," Rhosyn greeted.
He looked tired and defeated, the evidence of one too many glasses of wine discolouring his complexion and darkening his eyes.
"If it's about the duke—"
Rhosyn stopped herself from rolling her eyes.
"It's about Lady Naome," she cut in and Dowly's face snapped into focus. "In private."
Rhosyn led the way towards the door and hallways of guest bedrooms, Dowly and Caerwyn following in her wake.
The corridor was tranquil, no sound to shatter the fragile peace except that of three sets of feet. Sconces burned dimly, warming the space with light and scaring away the shadow. When they'd come to a small alcove, they'd stopped. It was similar to the one that she'd run into Dowly previously when he was with the duke, but brighter and far more welcoming.
"My Lady, you said this was about Lady Naome," Dowly asked apprehensively and eyeing Caerwyn who stood close by, a little unsure.
With a slight nod from her, the knight retreated down the hallway—in sight, but out of earshot. Dowly not looking to ease any more by the gesture.
"Do you want to marry the lady, Lord Dowly?"
"That's all I ever wanted—truly." He ran a hand threw his hair, anguish twisting his features with heartache and longing.
If this was what love was, Rhosyn didn't want to be crippled by it. He couldn't stand still, his face warped from stress and mind plagued by only thoughts of her. She couldn't survive if she was so corrupted. No, love was sacrifice and Rhosyn would only sacrifice for one man—her king.
"Well, I've got Lord Regin's approval. If we move quickly, quietly and keep it a secret, we can resolve all this without anyone being the wiser." She took a deliberate step towards him, gaining his full attention. "We'd write up the contracts and date everything back to the date Lord Regin visited St.Michael's and in the meantime find a priest who'll do it secretly and legitimately."
Lord Dowly didn't know what to say for a moment, he just stared at her, blinking. It was news that he couldn't comprehend because it sounded too good.
"Thank you, My Lady," he finally said, warmth and gratitude a sickly sweet thing from his lips. "I'll be forever indebted."
"I don't want your debt—just your silence."
Better that no one found out about all this and their secret died with them.
Rhosyn turned to retreat back down the hallway towards Caerwyn, exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders and she just wanted to sleep. But prayers were still yet to be said and letters needed to be written before she could find any comfort in her bed.
"My Lady," Dowly called after her, catching her short. "The duke isn't a bad guy." He breathed an explosive breath. "He was trying to help me, but Lord Regin wouldn't listen and this was our only way."
Of course the boy would defend Karsyn. After the Lord of Ravenstair was reduced to his bed, the duke had helped raise Dowly. It was said that Dowly lived at the duke's estate for a time, tutoring him personally. But to say that he was trying to help him by advising Dowly to get the lady pregnant was uncouth to say the least.
"The…" But she couldn't say the word.
"Rumour," Dowly offered instead. "He said that it'll put enough pressure on Lord Regin to approve the marriage."
Technically, he wasn't wrong. Regin wouldn't have accepted this marriage if he had any other choice.
"You may say that, but Lord Regin is not the person to mock openly," Rhosyn explained the error in Dowly's loyalty. "His temper is shorter than his stature. If Duke Karsyn wanted a war, he would've got it through Lord Regin."
Dowly paled slightly. It wasn't necessarily news to him, she could see. But it still didn't sit well with him. Good, he's not ruthless.
"Now, if you will bid me farewell, I'll retire, My Lord." She curtsied and continued on her way.
Next stop, chapel.
The cold press of stone bled through the worn cushion and Rhosyn felt too exposed in the large chapel. She tried to keep her thoughts on her prayers, but the chill would seep in and she didn't feel alone.
Her mind recanted Karsyn's words. The fever of his body close to hers and the way his voice travelled through her, filling her up and burning deep. He was venom, and it dripped from his lips like sweet promises and satirical lies.
One thing she knew for sure about him. He was a danger to the crown.
Rhosyn made the sign for God and rose. If she was to protect her vow, she would need to sacrifice. She won't get no sleep tonight.