9. Caelric
CAELRIC
"Did anyone see you leave?" I ask, extending my hand to help her into the carriage.
"No." Rosalie accepts my assistance, her fingers briefly warm against mine before she settles onto the velvet seat. "I told the kitchen staff I was visiting the market early, before the crowds."
As she pulls back her hood, morning light catches the rich chestnut of her hair, which she's woven into a simple braid that falls over one shoulder.
The style frames her face beautifully, revealing the delicate curve of her neck and the gentle slope of her collarbones above her modest brown dress.
The fabric is well-made but clearly practical—sturdy cotton with careful mending at the sleeves that speaks to years of thoughtful care rather than frequent replacement.
She's chosen a cream-colored shawl that complements her warm bronze skin, and small silver earrings catch the light when she turns her head.
Everything about her appearance whispers of quiet dignity maintained despite circumstances that would crush lesser spirits.
"I'm covered for the morning," she continues, smoothing her skirts as the carriage lurches into motion. "But I'll need to return by midday for Lady Ardyn's afternoon appointments."
I nod, calculating the time that gives us. "That should be sufficient."
The familiar gates of House Vaerith come into view as we round the final bend, their ancient ironwork gleaming in the early sunlight. Rosalie leans forward slightly, studying the estate with obvious curiosity.
"It looks different without all the carriages and crowds," she murmurs.
"More like home and less like a stage," I agree, helping her down from the carriage.
Inside, the manor feels peaceful in the morning quiet—no orchestral music floating through enchanted air, no elaborate illusions dancing across the walls. Just our family home in its natural state, warm and welcoming.
I guide her toward the dining hall, our footsteps echoing softly on marble floors.
She moves beside me with that careful grace I've noticed before, taking in the portraits lining the corridors and the subtle magical touches that make our house distinctly Vaerith—self-organizing books on side tables, flowers that bloom in response to presence, mage-lights that adjust their brightness based on the time of day.
The dining hall doors stand open, revealing the room in all its morning glory.
Floating crystal lanterns cast gentle light across the polished table, while the massive windows along the back wall showcase our gardens—ancient oak trees whose branches form natural archways over beds of flowering vines, fountains that sing in harmonious notes, and pathways that shift color with the seasons.
"Magnificent," Rosalie breathes, and I feel an unexpected surge of pride.
My family is just settling into their usual breakfast positions as we enter.
Father adjusts his reading spectacles while scanning correspondence, Mother pours tea as though an audience is watching her every perfect move, and my siblings engage in their typical morning banter—Aurelia describing some scandalous gossip she heard at last night's soiree, Emeric still wearing yesterday's clothes and looking like he spent the night somewhere he shouldn't have, Nerina politely declining yet another marriage proposal that arrived with the morning post.
The scene radiates warmth and genuine affection—siblings teasing each other with real fondness, parents exchanging meaningful glances over shared jokes, everyone completely at ease in each other's company.
Rosalie stops just inside the doorway, her hazel eyes wide with something approaching wonder.
Then Father notices our entrance and clears his throat once—a sound that cuts through conversation like a knife through silk.
Silence descends instantly.
"Family, I'd like you to meet Rosalie." I place a gentle hand on her elbow, feeling the subtle tension in her posture. "Her knowledge of House Ardyn may prove invaluable to our investigation."
Rosalie's shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly, and I catch the way her hazel eyes dart between each face at the table—calculating, measuring, deciding how much trust to offer.
Mother rises gracefully from her seat, violet eyes warm with genuine welcome rather than the calculating assessment most nobles would display.
"Please, join us for breakfast," she says, gesturing toward an empty chair. "You must be famished after such an early start."
The kindness in her voice catches Rosalie off guard—I see it in the slight widening of her eyes, the way her rigid posture softens just a fraction.
"That's very generous, my lady, but I couldn't—"
"Nonsense." Nikolai stands and pulls out the chair beside him, his emerald eyes crinkling with warmth. "Anyone willing to help find Lord Ardyn deserves our hospitality."
Nerina nods agreement, her luminous violet gaze holding none of the condescension Rosalie clearly expects. "Please, sit. Caelric rarely brings guests to family breakfast—you must be special."
Heat creeps up my neck at Nerina's teasing tone, but Rosalie settles into the offered chair with visible relief.
"What can you tell us about the morning you discovered Lord Ardyn missing?" Aurelia asks, leaning forward with sharp interest.
Rosalie's fingers tighten on her teacup. "Lady Ardyn came to my quarters before dawn, searching for him. She'd already checked his study, his chambers, even the stables."
"Who else knew he was gone?" I ask.
"Well, everyone. He had left the previous day for a meeting with the King and didn't return that night." Rosalie pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Several of his extended family arrived that morning for a meeting, but he wasn't there."
Aurelia's platinum eyebrows arch. "Interesting. Because last night, Velryssa Ardyn made it seem as though she'd known in advance that he was going to leave."
Rosalie's teacup clinks against its saucer. "That's impossible. Lord Ardyn told me nothing about leaving, and he shared everything regarding his schedule."
"Everything?" Aurelia's violet eyes gleam with predatory focus.
"His appointments, correspondence, family obligations." Rosalie's voice grows stronger. "I managed his daily affairs. If he'd known he was going to travel, I would have known."
The contradictions pile up like kindling, each revelation adding fuel to a fire that burns brighter but illuminates less. Instead of clarity, we're drowning in inconsistencies.
I lean back against my chair, frustration building like a clenched fist.
Rosalie sets down her teacup carefully, the porcelain clicking softly against the saucer. Her hazel eyes sweep across each face at the table before settling on mine.
"Are you certain something has happened to Lord Ardyn?" The question carries weight, as though she's been holding it back for days. "Lady Ardyn was told by the Chancellor that her husband was sent away on official business for the King."
The silence feels thick as honey. I catch Aurelia's sharp glance, see the way Father's fingers pause over his correspondence, notice how even Asterion looks up from his perpetual reading. We exchange the kind of guarded looks that families share when they possess dangerous knowledge.
Rosalie notices immediately. Her spine straightens, and something shifts in her expression—a flicker of hurt mixed with determination.
"You know something I don't."
It's not a question.
"Rosalie—" I begin, but she cuts me off with a gesture.
"No." Her voice carries quiet steel. "I'm risking everything to be here.
My position, my safety, possibly my life if the wrong people discover I'm helping you.
" She leans forward, hazel eyes blazing.
"I've told you things about the Ardyn family that could destroy me if they ever learned of it.
The least you can do is tell me what I need to know to stay on the same page. "
The challenge hangs in the air like smoke from a snuffed candle. She's right, of course—we've asked her to trust us with information while withholding the most crucial details ourselves.
I look toward Father, seeking guidance. His violet eyes meet mine for a long moment before he nods once, barely perceptible.
"The King personally summoned me," I say carefully. "He told me that Lord Ardyn was taken, not sent away on Crown errands. His Majesty assigned me the task of finding Lord Ardyn before word spreads that he's missing."
The color drains from Rosalie's bronze skin like water from a broken vessel. Her hands grip the table, knuckles white with tension.
"Taken." The word comes out as barely a whisper. "If Lord Ardyn was taken..." She swallows hard, the implications crashing over her like a tide. "Any of the Ardyns could make a play for his title. And who knows what they'd do with that power."
"Exactly." Asterion's blue-violet eyes gleam with approval as he closes his book with a soft thud. "Your intelligence serves you well."
Father leans back in his chair, studying Rosalie with new respect. "While the King can't directly interfere in noble house politics, he won't take kindly to losing one of the few nobles he can reason with to keep Vhoig in its current state."
Rosalie tilts her head, processing this revelation. "Like keeping your family close."
A smile spreads across Father's features. "Smart girl."
The breakfast conversation continues around us, but I find myself watching Rosalie as she absorbs the true scope of what we're facing.
Her quick mind is already working through possibilities, calculating risks, understanding that Lord Ardyn's disappearance threatens far more than just one noble house.
As the morning draws toward its end and she prepares to leave, I catch her arm gently.
"Rosalie." She turns, hazel eyes meeting mine. "You will never be forced to help us. This is your choice, always."
Something shifts in her expression—surprise, then a warmth that makes my chest hurt unexpectedly. At last, she looks at me without the careful guardedness that years of servitude have taught her.
"Thank you," she says quietly, and I know she means far more than just the words themselves.