Chapter Sixteen - Unlikely Help
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Unlikely Help
THE SMELL WAS too much for Marianne, and she fainted.
Lavinia rolled her eyes and gestured for one of the guards to take her out of the room.
Rosamund and Emrys took it as an opportunity to make their escape as well.
The image of the woman’s flesh receding in the flames would be forever emblazoned on her mind.
She had forced herself to watch, to witness the fate of this woman.
A fate that could be in store for her if anyone were to discover her magic.
They won’t just execute me, they’ll burn me.
Her lessons with Elswyth had made her feel more confident, had given her a better understanding of the court.
She thought that she could survive here.
Lavinia had reminded her that she was never safe.
Not whilst she still had her magic. She could develop her own mask, but none of it would save her if they found out about her power.
How could she ever have thought she would be safe?
The guard dumped Marianne on a couch in the corridor before returning to the main room.
Emrys called to a nearby servant to fetch some water, whilst he knelt beside Marianne, holding her hand.
Rosamund could feel a panic swelling within her until she looked down at the frail form of the girl.
She could not lose it. She could not fall apart.
Not here, not amongst these people, and not when Marianne needed her.
She forced herself to get her breathing under control, kneeling beside Emrys, her large skirts pooling around her.
“Probably for the best she fainted,” said Emrys as he laid a hand across her forehead, he glanced at Rosamund, “are you okay?”
“Yes, fine,” she lied, and when he raised an eyebrow, she added, “wishing I hadn’t eaten so many of Mrs Hawthorn’s sandwiches before I came.”
Emrys huffed a laugh with no humour in it, Rosamund joined him, verging slightly on the hysterical, “is that a common entertainment.”
She had meant it as a way of easing the tension, but the way he frowned made her feel all the worse, “more common than necessary.”
“Was…was she…”
“A witch?” he shrugged, “maybe. More likely that she was some poor woman in Cedric’s prison. Real witches are rare, and harder to find.”
“How do they keep getting away with this?” she said through gritted teeth, realising too late that she shouldn’t have been so honest.
“Power,” said Emrys simply, “opportunity, but mostly because they can.”
She relaxed, seeing that he had dropped his own mask a little.
“Is Aurelian the same?” she asked softly.
He smiled and shook his head, his expression softening, “no. Thank the goddess. Neither is Osric, though if Bastian keeps trying to dig his claws into him then who knows,” he closed his eyes and muttered, “Maybe they all go bad in the end.”
It was his turn to look at her, surprised at his own honesty. She offered him a sympathetic smile and leaned over to squeeze his arm. He smiled; the tension leaving him and rose to his feet.
“I should go back inside, keep her distracted,” he suggested.
“I can do that,” said Rosamund, though her stomach told her otherwise.
He smiled at her gratefully but shook his head, “You need to take Marianne home. Lavinia’s had her fun, she’ll be fully in her cups, and she won’t notice either of you have gone if you leave now.”
“Come with us then,” she said, just a touch pleadingly.
Again he shook his head, “I still have things to do.”
“I thought you were here for us,” she said gesturing between herself and Marianne who was starting to sit up, “I really don’t think you should-.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said firmly as he stepped forward to help Marianne to her feet, “now go,” he bowed low to them both, “it was a pleasure to see you again Lady Rosamund.”
With that he turned on his heel and stepped back into the main room.
Marianne swayed and Rosamund quickly lurched forward to hold her up.
The two of them struggled down the hall towards the main door.
None of the servants or guards moved to help them, and Rosamund was not sure she would have let them in any case.
Still, her dress had not been helping the situation, and she took had still felt dizzy from the smell and the heat.
She was about to give in when Marianne stopped leaning against her and was lifted off her feet.
Rosamund spun round, ready to give whoever had touched Marianne a piece of her mind, only to come face to face with the handsome lord that Lavinia had been flirting with earlier.
He held Marianne easily in his arms as behind him, the older gentleman who had been watching her, limped forward on his case.
“Thank you, Leoric. Take her outside, will you? Some fresh air will do her some good,” said the Lord as he approached and held out his arm to Rosamund.
She eyed it suspiciously, but with the younger man setting off down the corridor with Marianne in his arms, she took it.
“Thank you,” she said politely.
“Not at all Lady Valehart,” said the Lord as they moved off down the corridor.
She looked at him again, “I know you.”
“Yes,” he said with a warm smile, “we met briefly at your betrothal ceremony.”
“No,” she said slowly, “I know you…”
“Lord Darnwell,” he said, inclining her head.
She had seen him before, she was sure of it, just as she was sure of it at the ceremony.
“Lady Valehart-”
“Just Lady Rosamund my lord.”
“Lady Valehart,” he repeated firmly, “I was hoping that I might be able to speak with you. Perhaps I could-”
“Rosamund?”
They had rounded a corner, and she had walked headfirst into the chest of the Prince of Death. Lord Darnwell immediately dropped her arm and bowed low. Leoric did the same, though with difficulty as he still held Marianne in his arms.
“You,” she said, taken aback as she stared up at him.
“Me,” he said drily.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Marianne had fainted again, or perhaps she was pretending, Rosamund was not sure. Given what she had said of Dorian earlier she suspected the latter.
“I had business with my brother,” said Dorian, then frowned, “not that it is any of your concern.” She bristled but before she could speak, he asked, “What happened?”
Lord Darnwell rose from his bowed position and answered, “forgive us your highness, the young Princess was quite overcome with the evening’s entertainment. Lady Valehart made a valiant effort to help her, but my son-”
Dorian handed Rosamund the papers in his hand and he stepped forward to take Marianne from Leoric.
The handsome lord looked to his father first who gave him a quick nod, he handed over the princess.
Rosamund frowned. Dorian, who flinched any time she came within a meter of him had stepped forward to lift Marianne into his arms. She felt something in her chest. Annoyance. Irritation.
Jealousy? Said a traitorous voice in her mind. Rosamund ignored it.
Without another word to Lord Darnwell Dorian headed off down the corridor. Rosamund, bobbed a curtsy to Lord Darnwell, “thank you for your assistance.”
“We should speak Lady Valehart.”
Again, he used her family name. Did he use it at the feast too?
That same familiarity that pulled at something in her memory.
She did not like it. He was eager to speak to her, and she was fast learning not to trust that.
She looked at the Dorian’s retreating back and said, “of course my Lord, another time. As you say, I am quite overcome. Good evening.”
With one last curtsy she rushed off after Dorian, stepping out into the night air, stopping to take a lungful of it.
It was not cool, but anything was better than the burning in her nose.
Her dress clung to her, sticking to her legs and body.
But she filled her lungs to purge the smell of burning hair.
Dorian had proceeded down the stairs to the carriage, though he was waylaid before he reached it by a sudden rush of mists that coalesced into the form of Osric.
He immediately reached for his wife, concern written all over his face.
“I’ll take her,” said Osric holding his hands out.
Dorian shrugged and handed over Marianne’s limp form. Osric stumbled a little under the weight, and Marianne’s arms quickly reached up to wrap around her husband’s neck.
“What happened?” asked Osric.
“Lavinia,” said Dorian and Rosamund at the same time.
They looked at each other awkwardly. Marianne began to rouse and Osric quickly put her back on her feet, he glared at Rosamund and said, “I asked you look out for her.”
“She did,” said Marianne quickly, placing a placating hand on his arm.
Osric looked unconvinced but blanched when Dorian spoke, “looking after your wife is not my betrothed’s concern.”
“But I’m happy to do it,” said Rosamund quickly and firmly, she looked to Marianne, who was as scared as her husband, “we should meet up soon.”
“I would like that,” she said, even managing a smile, though at the worried expression on her husband’s face she added, “in private maybe.”
Dorian frowned and was about to say something else when Rosamund held up a hand, “of course. Just us. Send a card when you’re ready.”
Both Marianne and Osric looked relieved as the mists began to swirl around them, and in the next moment they had disappeared, leaving her alone with Dorian. He continued to glare down at her, “what?”
“In private?” he almost growled.
Rosamund sighed, “she’s scared of Lavinia finding out. Or the other wives.”