Chapter Twelve - Lessons in Survival
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lessons in Survival
THE NEXT SALON invitation came a week later.
She slumped back in her chair as Osric handed her the teal and red invitation.
She had hoped for more time. Only one of the dresses she had ordered had arrived, the rest of them having experienced unexpected delays.
Elira had already started work on making it fit Rosamund’s shape, but it was far from ready yet.
The accompanying headpieces and accessories had also failed to arrive, despite Corvin personally calling on the various jewellers and milliners.
They had told him that they had been flooded with high-priority orders.
She examined the invite, not as brightly designed as Celeste’s, it was still elegantly done. The red cursive writing noted;
Lady Rosamund,
I would be delighted and honoured if you would join me for afternoon tea today at 2PM, at Tidehall, The Velvet Tide.
Princess Elswyth Mordane.
At least she would have the morning to prepare.
More than that, the Princess Elswyth would be the host this time.
Rosamund was still unsure how much the woman had seen that day at the betrothal ceremony and had been terrified of her questioning afterwards.
Still, she would take Elswyth over Lavinia as host.
“Gnash, tell Elira to lay out a selection of dresses appropriate for afternoon tea,” said Rosamund, handing the invitation to the goblin.
“Afternoon tea,” he said excitedly, gazing up at her, “Gnash coming.”
“No, Gnash not coming,” said Rosamund firmly, but the goblin ignored her as he climbed down from his stool.
“Gnash coming,” he repeated excitedly, “protect lady from snooty ladies, and tea spillage and…bad biscuits.”
She watched with an amused smile as he skipped from the room before she realised that Osric had not disappeared yet.
As instructed, Rowan had made the Prince wait in the foyer where he had appeared until Rosamund was ready to receive him.
She had been having breakfast with Corvin, and had taken pity on the prince, inviting him into the dining room.
Though not before she had made him wait until her second cup of tea.
Osric shifted from foot to foot, his eyes fixed on the table, “Was there something else?”
Watching his face, she saw a thousand different responses race through his mind before he eventually settled on, “Marianne is not snooty.”
Rosamund blinked, struggling for a moment to remember who Marianne even was, and recalling the timid girl she had been sat next to as Sunfall Keep.
“No, she isn’t,” said Rosamund slowly as she looked up at him and saw that he was looking anywhere but at her, “Gnash didn’t mean her.”
He nodded his head but still did not move.
“It is not easy for her,” said Osric, his hands clenched, “she is…very shy.”
“I noticed,” said Rosamund gently.
“And associating with someone like you, with your family’s history,” he continued as if she had not spoken, “that would be difficult for her, and,” he ran a hand through his hair, “she has a hard enough time with her association with me.”
She wanted to be annoyed at the obvious insult, but she liked the way he stood up for his wife.
He was unsure, and perhaps not as tactful as he could be about it, but that odd loyalty was endearing.
There was also a nervousness to the young man that made her sympathetic.
It was obvious he was uncomfortable here, scared even, but had felt he could not leave without saying something.
“I understand,” said Rosamund, forcing her tone to soften again, she gestured to one of the many empty chairs at the table, “won’t you join me?”
Osric eyed the chair up suspiciously, but tentatively sat down and mumbled, “I did miss breakfast this morning.”
“They keep you very busy,” said Rosamund as she watched him pile his plate up.
Osric scoffed and nodded his head, “They certainly do, the perils of being the only one that can freely and quickly travel.”
“I’m surprised Dorian allows you past the walls,” said Rosamund as she took a sip of tea.
“I’m the only one,” he said, tearing into one of the sausages, “father made him. Messengers kept going missing, so he told Dorian that he had to let me in. He only lets me teleport in here though.”
“And it better stay that way,” came a deep voice from the doorway.
Osric nearly choked on his sausage in the rush to get to his feet.
“The royal errand boy,” said Dorian as he came into the room, Rowan dashing forward to make him up a plate, “two visits in one week, we are lucky.”
“I was just leaving.” said Osric quickly.
The mists were already swirling around him when he looked to Rosamund and said, “Thank you for breakfast,” before he disappeared.
Dorian waited for Rowan to fill up his plate, as Rosamund asked, “He’s not allowed in the district?”
“No one is,” said Dorian as Rowan handed him the plate, “though not for a lack of trying.”
“That’s what you meant, about the breach,” she said, remembering the conversation from their first breakfast.
He did not respond.
They had not eaten together since then. Dorian would come down for his plate and leave for his tower.
Why he didn’t have Rowan take it up there for him she did not know, but these last few mornings he had at least appeared, if briefly.
He would offer her a good morning, wait for his plate and his coffee, then swoop back out.
Something had shifted in them that day in the conservatory.
Just slightly. Just enough to release some of the tension between them.
She still had not forgotten the way he had made her feel.
And when he walked into the room, she felt that same brief rush. She had endeavoured to ignore it.
Mrs Hawthorn bustled in with a steaming mug for him which he took with a small smile.
Again she noticed the way it softened his features and quickly looked away, busying herself with cutting the top of her egg off.
She struck it with enough force that the top went careening across the table to hit Dorian’s back.
He turned and looked down at where it had landed on the floor and then back to her with a confused frown, “Did you just throw an egg at me?”
“No,” she said quickly, and when he raised an eyebrow she mumbled, “it was part of an egg.”
Again, he did not respond, though this time she felt it was because he had no idea what to say to that. She quickly moved on, “I’ve been invited to Elswyth’s today.”
“I see…will you go?”
“Yes,” she said, though there was some hesitation in her voice.
“Good,” he said with a nod, “Elswyth is,” he searched for the right words, “kind.”
“Not a vampire then?” she said with a hopeful smile and was rewarded with what she had started calling his pre-smile.
“No. Definitely not,” he said softly.
He looked at the chair at the head of the table and for a moment she thought he was about to sit with her. She sat up, her body tensing, as his eyes rose to meet hers. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m sure it will go well,” and left the room.
She watched his retreating back with irritation. Had he been about to sit with her? Was it just her imagination? What was this feeling she kept having when he walked into the room?
I don’t need distractions, she thought.
Not with the salon that afternoon. She would put it from her mind. She was heading into battle and needed to remain focused. Elswyth may be kind, but there were still the other snakes to contend with. And this time, she would be ready for their venom.
As it turned out, it was just the two of them.
Elira had done her best with the white and red dress that had arrived.
The shoulders still puffed up in a strange way, and the hem was uneven, but it was at least in the more fashionable style found in the city.
She had considered wearing one of the black and silver dresses, Dorian’s colours, but had worried that might have sent the wrong message.
She did not want them to think that she was in mourning, and she still wasn’t ready in any case.
Looking at them no longer incurred the same feeling in her stomach, but it still filled her with a sadness of what had been lost. So they remained in the back of the cupboard, untouched.
The maidservant had done well with her hair.
While it had taken some getting used to, having someone else’s fingers gently pulling at her hair, she had to admit that Elira had a gentle touch.
Giving over that control was hard, but she had eventually relaxed into it.
She had done nothing too elaborate, nothing like her braided updo at the ceremony, instead she had gently curled her chestnut hair and gathered some of it up into a ponytail whilst the rest flowed down her back.
She had found a ruby clasp in Rosamund’s trunk and had carefully placed it where the ponytail was held.
Despite the small imperfections of the dress Rosamund thought that they had done well.
That was until she saw the elegant teal and crimson flowing dress that Elswyth wore.
The sleeves were long and voluminous, the gauze fluttering as she rose to greet Rosamund, the skirts, flowing out behind her.
Compared to the princess, her and Elira’s efforts looked like nothing.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” said Elswyth as she reached for Rosamund’s hand, “Come, have a seat.”