Chapter Five - A Gift #2
There was a thump on the table as someone smacked their hands down.
“Bastian, I’m booooored,” whined Lavinia as she leaned forward, ensuring he got a good eyeful of her cleavage, “entertain me.”
Bastian chuckled and moved away from Rosamund, “Aww, poor sister, not enjoying Aurelian’s company?”
Lavinia pouted and gestured to the other side of the hall where Aurelian now sat animatedly speaking with a lithe dark-haired man, with beautiful brown skin, “He abandoned me, and besides, he’s dreadfully dull,” she grinned, “not like you.”
“And your husband?” he suggested gesturing down to where Isolde was attempting to engage the large stoic man at the end of the table in conversation.
Lavinia wrinkled her nose and gave him a look that said ‘really’. He laughed and gestured to Rosamund, “Can’t you see I am already entertaining our new sister.”
The redhead turned her look of distaste to Rosamund, giving her another once over, before looking back at Bastian, “I promise you, I’m much more fun than this drip.”
Bastian barked a laugh, the guests joining in with him, before he downed his goblet and rose to his feet. He turned to Rosamund who was clenching the goblet in her hands revisiting a new target for its contents, “Apologies sister, duty calls.”
He took Lavinia’s outstretched hands, leading her to where a group of musicians played and called for a dance.
Lord and ladies rose from where they sat to join them.
She watched as Bastian snaked an arm around Lavinia’s waist, pulling her close before reaching down to squeeze her buttock.
She squealed and slapped playfully at his hand.
“Arsehole,” muttered Rosamund under her breath, before she quickly turned her head around to see the man’s wife sitting a chair away from her.
“Oh goddess, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Rosamund started to say until Elswyth cut in over the top.
“No, you’re quite right,” said Elswyth softly as she turned to Rosamund, “he is an arsehole.”
Rosamund could not help herself; she let out a laugh. It had been the first time she had laughed since her sister had left.
Has it really been that long?
Nervous though it was, it felt good. Everything about Elswyth was warm and inviting.
Her smile, the soft curls of her rich brown hair that was piled more elegantly atop her head than Rosamund’s.
There were a few lines around the eyes, but it only enhanced the deep brown of them.
She was beautiful, and looking upon her Rosamund could not understand why Bastian would ever look at another when this woman was his wife.
“I’m Rosamund,” she said and then felt silly for saying so.
Elswyth smiled, “I know,” she held out her hand, “I’m Princess Elswyth, the arsehole’s wife.”
Rosamund laughed again, her shoulders relaxed. Though, she caught the melancholy look in the other woman’s eye. She held her hand out to the woman until she realised that she had offered the bandaged one and quickly snatched it back.
She had let her guard down. This woman could know her secret. She had seen the flower that had risen between herself and Dorian.
“How is your hand?” asked Elswyth.
‘You can’t trust anyone little petal’, her father’s voice ringing in her ears.
“Fine,” said Rosamund quickly.
“I imagine,” Elswyth searched for the right words, “it was quite an experience holding Dorian’s hand.”
Rosamund relaxed, “You know?”
“Not everyone does, but the family do.”
“Has, has he always been this way?” she asked Elswyth.
She glanced around the room before she spoke, “Prince Dorian has not allowed anyone to touch him since the last queen, his mother, died” Elswyth smiled, “until today.”
“I, I didn’t know,” said Rosamund as she turned to look out across the guests towards Dorian. He remained in conversation with the man at the door. He must have felt her gaze as both he and the man turned to look at her. She quickly looked back to Elswyth.
“Sorry?” said Rosamund.
“Do you want me to take a look at it?” offered Elswyth
“Look at what?” asked Rosamund, confused.
“Your hand,” said Elswyth as she gestured towards it, “we don’t want it to get infected.”
Rosamund tensed, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I really must insist,” said Elswyth firmly and leaned forwards to try to take the hand, “we have to make sure you’re okay.”
Panic coursed through her and without really thinking about what she was doing Rosamund knocked over Dorian’s goblet causing the wine to splatter over the table and the princess.
“Oh goddess I’m so sorry,” said Rosamund as she reached forward to grab a napkin.
“It’s okay,” said Elswyth kindly, even laughing a little, “accidents happen.”
She handed Elswyth the napkin and whilst the other woman bent down to wipe at the stain on her dress, Rosamund pulled back the handkerchief wrapped around her hand, grabbed the knife on the table and sliced it across her palm.
She gritted her teeth together as the skin stung from it, then dropped the knife to the floor and kicked it under the table.
She called on a slither of her own power to cause the wound to scab,
When Lady Elswyth looked up, she had removed the bandage, “I am so sorry.”
The other woman zeroed in on the scar and frowned briefly before looking back at Rosamund, “Don’t worry about it. Let me see that,” she took Rosamund’s hand and examined it closely.
“That’s healing nicely.”
“Oh good,” said Rosamund, displaying genuine relief.
Elswyth rose to her feet, “I should see if one of the servants can help me with this,” she gestured to her dress and offered Rosamund one last smile, “I won’t be long.”
Elswyth departed and Rosamund collapsed into her chair. However, it was not long before someone else was vying for her attention and with a groan she opened her eyes to see her aunts before her.
“Have you spoken to Prince Dorian?” asked Beatrice in hushed tones.
“He has a very talented cook,” said Rosamund glumly.
“What?” said Aunt Beatrice, “No, about Todric.”
“Oh, right, yes,” said Rosamund sitting up in her chair.