8. Rosalie
ROSALIE
The Vaerith estate blazes with enchanted light tonight, crystal chandeliers floating in perfect formation above guests who sparkle like jewels against the polished marble.
I smooth my blue dress—my only dress—and follow Lady Ardyn through the grand entrance, keeping two respectful steps behind her burgundy silk train.
Magic saturates every surface here. Flowers bloom and shift colors along the walls in response to conversation, their petals releasing different fragrances as nobles pass.
Wine goblets refill themselves when guests aren't looking, and the very air seems to shimmer with protective wards that make my skin tingle.
"Remember your place," Lady Ardyn murmurs without turning around. Her hair catches the floating lights as she nods regally to passing nobles. "Speak only when spoken to, and keep your eyes down."
"Yes, my lady."
But my eyes refuse to obey. They dart across the crowd, searching faces with barely concealed desperation.
Three days have passed since our brief encounter, yet Caelric's unexpected kindness replays in my mind like a song I can't forget.
The way he helped me up without hesitation, spoke to me as if I were worth speaking to, looked at me as if I were more than furniture in noble clothing.
Dangerous thoughts. Foolish thoughts. Yet they persist.
I spot Lord and Lady Vaerith near the fireplace, their easy laughter creating a warm circle that draws other nobles like moths to flame.
Lord Maltheris gestures animatedly while describing something that makes his wife cover her mouth to hide her giggles.
Even from across the room, their genuine affection radiates outward—so different from the careful politeness that governs most noble marriages.
"Lady Nerina approaches," Lady Ardyn whispers, her posture straightening with anticipation.
I follow her gaze and nearly stumble. The woman gliding toward us moves like liquid starlight, her sapphire gown trailing silver threads that catch the magical light.
Nerina Vaerith possesses the kind of beauty that makes other women question the gods' sense of fairness—alabaster skin that seems to glow from within, violet eyes that sparkle with intelligence and mischief, hair so perfectly platinum it appears spun from moonbeams.
She's a reincarnated goddess. She has to be.
"Lady Sylvareth." Nerina's voice carries warmth that sounds completely genuine. "How lovely to see you again. That gown is absolutely stunning—the embroidery work must have taken months."
Lady Ardyn preens under the compliment, her earlier tension melting away. "The Velmont seamstresses are without equal. Though I confess your own dress puts mine to shame."
"Nonsense." Nerina laughs, the sound like silver bells in morning air. "Though I must ask—how are you managing during your husbands absense?"
As they settle into conversation, my attention drifts back to scanning the crowd. Where is he? Surely the heir to House Vaerith wouldn't miss such an important gathering. Perhaps he's in another room, or delayed by some pressing matter of state.
The disappointment tastes bitter on my tongue.
"You." Lady Ardyn's sharp voice cuts through my wandering thoughts. "Stop gawking and make yourself useful."
I snap to attention, noticing Nerina is gone. "My lady?"
"This wine is absolutely dreadful." She thrusts her goblet at me with obvious disdain. "Go to the kitchens and find something better. House Vaerith must have proper vintages somewhere in this palace."
My stomach drops. "My lady, I'm not certain I should—"
"Are you questioning my orders?" Her lavender eyes flash with the dangerous light that precedes one of her tempers. "Perhaps you've forgotten your position here."
"No, my lady. Of course not."
"Then go. And don't return with anything less than their finest."
I accept the goblet with a curtsy. Heat burns my face as I back away from their conversation, navigating through clusters of nobles who part around me like water around a stone.
The main hallway stretches ahead, lined with portraits of Vaerith ancestors whose painted eyes seem to follow my movement.
Servants' passages branch off at regular intervals, but I've never been in this part of the estate before.
Each doorway looks identical, offering no clues about which might lead to the kitchens.
I choose a corridor at random, hoping it leads toward the back of the house where kitchens typically reside.
The magical light grows dimmer here, replaced by ordinary torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls.
Voices drift from behind closed doors—some carrying the formal cadence of political discussion, others the relaxed tones of private conversation.
One door stands slightly ajar, spilling golden light and raucous laughter into the hallway. I quicken my pace, hoping to pass unnoticed, but the sound of my footsteps on marble betrays my presence.
"Well, well." A male voice, slurred with wine and something else. "What have we here?"
I freeze as three young dark elves emerge from the doorway, their noble clothing disheveled and their eyes bright with chemical euphoria.
Sweet, cloying smoke drifts around them—the distinctive scent of dreamleaf, an expensive intoxicant favored by wealthy young nobles seeking escape from their gilded cages.
"A little lost lamb," the tallest one says, his grin revealing teeth stained purple from wine. "Wandering far from the flock."
His companions flank me on either side, cutting off retreat. My heart hammers against my ribs as I press my back against the wall, clutching Lady Ardyn's goblet like a shield.
"Please," I manage, keeping my voice calm despite the fear crawling up my throat. "I'm simply looking for the kitchens. Lady Ardyn sent me—"
"Lady Ardyn?" The second elf laughs, the sound harsh and grating. "That frigid bitch? No wonder she needs better wine—probably the only thing that makes her tolerable."
They close in like wolves scenting wounded prey.
Recognition dawns in the tallest one's bloodshot eyes, his grin widening into something predatory.
"Wait, wait." He snaps his fingers at his companions. "I know this little mouse. She's Ardyn's pet human—the one he keeps close for... special services."
My blood turns to ice water. The goblet trembles in my grip as their laughter erupts like barking worgs closing in for the kill.
"That's right!" The second elf claps his hands together with mock delight. "The famous whore of House Ardyn. Tell me, sweetling, how does it feel now that your master's abandoned you?"
"He hasn't abandoned—"
"Oh, but he has." The third one leans closer, his breath reeking of wine and dreamleaf. "Left you behind like yesterday's chamber pot. Didn't even take his favorite toy on his important Crown business."
They circle me now, predators sensing weakness. My back presses harder against the cold stone wall.
"Please, I need to return to Lady Ardyn—"
"Lady Ardyn?" The tall one throws back his head and howls with laughter. "No wonder her husband needed a warm human cunt to keep him satisfied."
"You know how they climb the ranks," the second one adds, his voice dripping with contempt. "The only way these human sluts advance is by mounting their pussies on a rich elf's cock."
Rage flares in my chest, burning away the fear. I straighten my spine and lift my chin.
"Back away from me. Now."
Their laughter intensifies, echoing off the corridor walls like the baying of hunting hounds.
"Look at this!" The third one gestures wildly. "The pet has claws! Tell us, little whore—without Lord Ardyn's protection, who's going to keep you warm at night? Maybe we should—"
"Gentlemen." The voice cuts through their taunts like a hot blade through silk, cold and sharp and absolutely lethal. "I believe you've lost your way."
Caelric emerges from the shadows at the corridor's end, his tall frame filling the space with commanding presence. His indigo eyes burn with controlled fury as he surveys the scene, taking in my pressed back against the wall, their predatory positioning, the fear I can't quite hide.
The three nobles straighten immediately, their drunken bravado evaporating like morning mist.
"Lord Vaerith," the tall one stammers. "We were just—"
"Leaving." Caelric's tone brooks no argument. Each word falls like a stone into still water. "Immediately."
"Of course, my lord. We meant no—"
"Now."
They scatter like leaves before a storm wind, stumbling over each other in their haste to escape. Their footsteps echo down the corridor until silence reclaims the space.
Caelric approaches slowly, his movements careful and non-threatening. The fury in his eyes softens to concern as he studies my face.
"Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, not trusting my voice yet. The goblet still trembles in my hands.
"Come." He gestures toward the main corridor. "I'll escort you back to the party."
We walk in silence for several moments, the distant sounds of the reception growing fainter behind us. Finally, I find my voice.
"Thank you." The words come out smaller than intended. "They recognized me as... as Lord Ardyn's favored attendant."
"I heard what they called you." His jaw tightens. "Their words were…"
"Not uncommon." I glance at him sideways. "Everyone assumes the same thing about human women in noble houses. We're either whores or we're invisible."
We reach a branching corridor, and he guides us left toward the servants' quarters.
"I've begun to fear..." I stop walking, the admission catching in my throat.
"What?"
"That Lord Ardyn truly is missing. Not away on business like the Lord Chancellor claimed." The words spill out in a rush. "Everyone knows I was his favorite attendant, and now without his protection... situations like tonight will become more frequent."
Caelric stops walking entirely, turning to face me fully. "I worry about the same thing."
His admission settles in my gut. If someone like Caelric—heir to House Vaerith, trusted by the Crown—shares my fears, then my instincts are probably correct.
"You knew him well," he continues, studying my face intently. "Better than most, I'd wager."
"He treated me kindly. More than kindly." I meet his gaze despite the risk. "I was present for many of his daily routines, his meetings, his conversations with family members. People speak freely around servants—we become invisible furniture."
"Exactly." Something shifts in his expression, sharpening into focus. "You would notice patterns others might miss. Changes in behavior, unusual visitors, conversations that seemed... off."
Understanding dawns between us like sunrise.
"You're looking for information."
He nods slowly. "And I could use someone with your particular knowledge of House Ardyn's inner workings."
"You want my help?"
"I'm asking for it."
The distinction matters more than he probably realizes. No one has ever asked me for anything—only demanded, ordered, expected.
"If something terrible has happened to Lord Ardyn, I owe him that much." I straighten my shoulders. "He protected me when he didn't have to. The least I can do is help find the truth."
We've reached the kitchens now, warm light spilling from the doorway along with the sounds of servants preparing late-night refreshments. But neither of us moves to enter.
"This partnership..." Caelric's voice carries a note I can't quite identify. "It would need to remain completely secret."
"I understand."
We stand there in the corridor's gentle light, the agreement settling like a bridge being built stone by stone. Something has changed in the space of this conversation—shifted from chance encounters to deliberate partnership, from polite distance to shared purpose.
And beneath it all, an undercurrent I dare not name but can't ignore. The way his eyes linger on my face. How neither of us seems eager to end this moment.
"Let's get you back to that party," he murmurs.
I nod, my throat tight. "When should we… talk again?"
A small smile quirks one side of his mouth upward. "Tomorrow. I'll fetch you from Ardyn Estate. Be ready."
My heart ticks up a beat. Again, I nod. Then, after waiting a beat too long, I scurry back toward the party.
"Wait!" Caelric calls after me. I turn to see him standing there, running his fingers through his long black hair. "I… My apologies, it's just… I don't know your name."
A blush warms my cheeks as I realize I've failed to introduce myself to him on three separate occasions. "Rosalie."
Then I turn and head back into the ballroom, heart pounding.
What have I gotten myself into?