Chapter Five - A Gift #3
“You have?” asked Beatrice excitedly.
“No,” said Rosamund guiltily, “there, there hasn’t been much time.”
“Rosamund,” said Aunt Cecily, glowering at her, “King Ovidian promised Todric’s release with this betrothal. Speak to your betrothed, find out when we should expect to see him.”
“Yes, of course,” said Rosamund and got to her feet, her legs still a little shaky from another use of her power, “I’ll, I’ll do that now.”
Beatrice nodded to her gratefully as the two of them returned to their seats at one of the long tables.
Rosamund crossed the hall towards her betrothed.
The guests at the table ignored her, engrossed in their meal, their gossip or watching the dancing.
One gentleman rose from his seat and inclined his head to her.
His hands rested on a long bronze cane, not too dissimilar from her aunts.
There was something familiar about the Ox head of the handle.
“Lady Valehart,” said the man in a quiet raspy tone.
He was an older man, his thin grey hair falling just past his ears, lines etched upon his face. He wore a dark purple houppelande lined with black velvet.
“Lady Mordane now I think,” she said politely.
He smiled, “Not quite yet.”
He doffed the velvet cap atop his head, revealing a growing bald spot, “Lord Robert Darnwell, at your service.”
Something was grasping for her attention in the back of her mind as the man told her his name. The growing volume of the room however made it difficult to think.
An ox…I’ve seen that before…
“I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time,” he asked.
“I just need to speak to my betrothed,” she gestured to Dorian, “but, perhaps after, Lord Darnwell.”
His face fell, “As you wish, Lady Valehart.”
She lifted her chin as he again referred to her house, feeling a rush of pride. Perhaps not everyone cursed House Valehart for their treachery. She curtsied to him, “Lord Darnwell,” before making her way towards the Prince.
As she approached him and his armoured friend, the sandy haired man attempted to turn his friend’s attention towards her. Dorian looked irritated that the man did not appear to be listening to him before he turned around and saw the reason why.
“What do you want?”
The armoured man coughed into his hand. It may have been a laugh.
She cleared her throat, “My aunts would like to know when my cousin Todric will be released.”
“What?” he said confused.
“My cousin Todric,” she said as dread began to fill her, “his majesty promised to release him.”
Realisation began to dawn and he quietly replied, “That’s why you’re here.”
That had not been the response she had expected, “They’re anxious to see him again your highness. As am I. If you could let us know when-.”
“DORIAN!” shouted Bastian from across the room, “Dance with your betrothed!”
Dorian shot an irritated look at his brother before he turned his attention back to Rosamund, “I know nothing of this.”
Her panic grew and she pleaded, “Could you find out? The King promised my aunts, it was part of the agreement and-.”
Bastian crossed the room towards them and slung his arm around his brother’s shoulders, “Dorian, dance with the girl.”
Dorian shrugged his brother’s arm off, “We are in the middle of a discussion. What do you know of-.”
“Less talking little brother, more dancing,” said Bastian as he attempted to shove Dorian towards the dance floor, “entertain us!”
“I do not dance,” snapped his brother.
Bastian rolled his eyes, “One dance brother, you owe it to your guests.”
“I owe them nothing.”
“Your darling betrothed then,” said Bastian as he gestured to Rosamund.
Dorian shot her a glare as if she too was responsible for this humiliation, “I definitely don’t owe her anything.”
“Come on Dorian-.”
“I can think of nothing less enticing than having to dance with the daughter of the man who sought to bring down our family. I will not, not now, not ever, touch her.”
Dorian’s words echoed as the room fell silent, the guests turning their attention to the spectacle. Rosamund did not know if she wanted to punch the man or have the ground swallow her whole.
Bastian smirked at each of them before he leaped onto one of the long tables, throwing his arms out to the side, “Since my brother has decided not to entertain us,” he paused for the crowd to make the appropriate boos and jeers, “I shall take on the responsibility. I have planned a little surprise. I invite you all to join me in the courtyard for a very special betrothal present.”
There was a cheer as Bastian jumped down from the table and led the crowd out to the courtyard.
Rosamund looked at Dorian who could not meet her eye. She swallowed her hatred, her disgust and moved towards him, “My cousin-.”
“Enough!” he snapped as he held up a hand and took a step back, “Enough. Let’s just get this over with.”
He stalked off to follow the crowd, the armoured man giving her an apologetic look before following him. Rosamund let out a frustrated breath before she steeled herself and followed Dorian to the courtyard.