Chapter Twenty-Two - The Traitor’s Truth
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Traitor's Truth
PRINCESS CELESTE AND Seraphine approached with another elegant woman with thick black hair styled atop her head, a glittering gold and silver tiara woven into it.
Her ebony skin was smooth and unblemished, covered in glittering jewels, as was her black and gold dress, the skirts of which protruded from her, the length of another person.
She was the only woman in the room not in the colours of Prince Aurelian, and though younger looking than either of the princesses that flanked her, she stood a hands breadth taller than both.
Beside her Dorian dropped into a low bow, “Your Majesty.”
Rosamund quickly dropped in a similarly low curtsy, drawing her eyes away from the beautiful queen to drop to the floor. She saw a gold gloved hand gesture for them to rise but only did so when she felt Dorian beside her do the same.
“Prince Dorian, we are pleased to see you back in society,” said the Queen, her voice commanding the space around her, “it has been too long.”
“Yes, your majesty,” said Dorian respectfully.
“And Lady Rosamund is it,” said the Queen with a raised eyebrow as she turned her dark brown eyes on her.
“Yes, your majesty,” said Rosamund quietly, dropping another curtsy for good measure.
“We hear you are keen gardener from Princess Elswyth,” said the Queen as she reached forward to lift Rosamund’s chin, “when you are wed, you must come visit our gardens at the Celestine Palace.”
“I, I will your majesty,” she stammered over her words.
The Queen did not smile, did not even nod her head in acknowledgement, but swept back off the dance floor in her swirling black and gold skirts with one last comment to Dorian, “don’t keep this flower locked in darkness.”
Celeste paused and looked back at Rosamund with a smile.
She nodded her head and quickly followed the queen.
Seraphine hovered longer, and with a much put upon sigh said, “I suppose you ought to come to Luneweave for tea,” she looked Rosamund up and down and with pursed lips added, “after you are wed.”
Before either she or Dorian could respond she too followed the Queen. Both let out a collective breath as the chatter and music began to rise in the room again.
“I need some air,” he said and held his arm out to her, “join me?”
She nodded and took his arm, the two of them passing through one of the many archways that led to the marble colonnade.
Even outside the music was still all around them, but she felt a pressure on her ease, as if her emotions were finally released.
She took a deep breath as she felt a swell bubble up, the nervousness, the relief, the exhilaration, the guilt.
Her eyes began to tear up as a storm of emotions came flooding back to her.
“Sorry, I, I don’t know what’s happening,” she said to him as he looked at her tears with concern.
Taking out a black silk handkerchief from his pocket he said, “ah, my brothers music can have a calming effect. It’s part of his power. Helps reduce the number of fights, or nerves people have. Most of us have been around him long enough to have built up a certain immunity.”
“Oh, right,” as she worked to stem the flow of tears, gratefully taking the handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, “well, that explains it.”
He let go of her arm, moving to one of the marble benches and sitting down, “you dance very well,” he glanced down at the ground, “thank you, I…I wouldn’t have gotten through that without you.”
Confident the tears had finally stopped she moved towards the bench to join him, “when my sister was learning to dance, and my brothers were too busy to help, I would often fill in as the lead,” she took a moment to smile at the memory, “I got quite good at it.”
“You must miss them,” he said softly, still not looking at her.
She snapped her gaze up at him, a million different responses on the edge of tumbling out, wrapped up in the storm of returning emotions. She bit them back and nodded, “yes, terribly.”
He held his hand out to her. It was rare that he would offer these moments of comfort.
For someone that was so averse to physical contact, who knew the ramifications should their skin come into contact, it was not something that he would do.
Yet he held his hand out to her now. Tentatively she reached out and took it.
She did not know how long they sat there in the warm night air, the muffled music joining the chirp of crickets as they stared at the night sky above them.
There was still a glow on the horizon despite the lateness of the hour, as if the sun refused the night, it’s moments of darkness.
It reminded her of Dorian and Aurelian. Aurelian, so full of light, Dorian, so lost in the dark of his own thoughts.
The two directly opposite, and yet, she could not help but feel that they complimented each other.
Like us, she thought as she turned to look at him.
He must have felt her eyes on him as he slowly turned to look at her. She smiled up at him, and she saw him raise his other hand, as if he were about to reach out to touch her. He hesitated and dropped it.
“Thank you,” he said instead, “for bringing me tonight. I…it is good to be here. With you.”
Her chest had tightened in anticipation as he had reached for her, and she had been disappointed when he had pulled back.
The beat of her heart thrummed in her ears as she looked at him, and she found her gaze wandering to his lips.
She could still remember the tingling sensation she had felt before the cold creep of death had crawled up her arm.
Could she stop it? She wanted to know. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have those lips on hers.
Slowly, she moved towards him, knowing that were she to make any sudden movements he would pull back instantly.
She still thought he might, even as her lips were a breath away from his she still thought he might move.
He stayed perfectly still. Not frozen, she could feel his chest rising and falling, picking up pace as he began to realise what she intended.
But he did not move. She summoned her power, using the life around her as a focus, preparing herself for cold chill of his power. She moved her lips to his.
“There you are!”
Dorian immediately jumped back from her, putting distance between them.
Derailed, Rosamund lost the focus on her power, and in the darkness of the garden beyond the flowers burst into bloom.
Aurelian stood in the archway and frowned, “that was weird,” he shrugged and crossed over the Dorian, “sorry to pull you away from your betrothed, but the Queen wishes to speak with you,” he looked at Rosamund apologetically, “alone. Sorry.”
“Not a problem,” said Rosamund through her breathlessness.
Aurelian grinned, “although, I could try to delay her-”
“I’m coming,” said Dorian firmly, and Rosamund watched as Aurelian clearly had to bite back a response to that.
Dorian turned back to her with apologetic look on his face, “apologies, but…she’s the Queen.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a reassuring smile, trying to calm her pulse.
He nodded, took a few steps away towards Aurelian and then turned back to her, “But we should finish our…conversation. Another time.”
“Another time,” she repeated with a smile.
Reluctantly, he stormed past Aurelian to the ballroom. Aurelian hovered long enough to raise his eyebrows at her, before following his brother with a wide grin.
Rosamund slumped down onto the bench and closed her eyes.
She was going to kiss him. She was actually going to kiss him.
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel that tingling sensation on her lips, wanted him to see that she could take it, that she could hold that power of his back.
The dancing, the music, the way he had watched her.
The way she had felt when he had wanted to rush to her defence, the way he had followed her lead.
Even thinking of it now, she could feel the rush of her pulse.
“Lady Valehart, finally.”
Her eyes flew open, “Lord Darnwell.”
The older man made his way towards her, the click of his cane echoing along the colonnade.
Behind him she saw the handsome man that Lavinia had flirted with at her salon take up position at the door, alongside a younger but similar looking young man.
Both inclined their head to her before they turned to keep watch.
Something is wrong, she thought, and tried to rise to her feet.
Lord Darnwell reached out and placed a hand on her forearm, encouraging her to sit down. She looked to the doors flanked by the young men and wondered if she would be able to reach it and call for Dorian before they stopped her. She suspected not.
“You are quite safe Lady Valehart, I assure you,” said Lord Darnwell gently, “Here, let me prove it.”
The lord fished around the collar of his high-necked coat and produced a golden chain with a locket with a glowing ruby and sapphire in the centre.
As she looked closely, she realised that the engraving on the front of it was that of the Valehart coat of arms. Lord Darnwell clicked open the locket and for the first time in many years Rosamund saw her own father’s image staring back at her.
“Your father was a very dear friend of mine,” he said softly, “he was at the dedications of my sons,” he gestured to the young men, “indeed, he and I once thought to join our houses together through you, your sister and my sons.”
She had been gazing into those familiar eyes when Lord Darnwell snapped the locket shut and tucked it away. Rosamund levelled her gaze at him, “my father was a traitor.”
“Your father was a great man. A good man. He did what was right for the realm, what was right for all of us,” he looked down at his hands, “and paid the price.”