Chapter Thirty-Five - We Bloom #2
“Of course, your majesty,” she said, her eyes never leaving her brother, “I will keep the faith in those I serve and love.”
Partial Truths.
Again, genuine relief appeared to wash over the King, and he let go of her arms, “That gladdens my heart, Rosamund. You have eased an old man’s worries, and I am grateful for it.”
He snapped his fingers and two red robed men removed Tristan from the cross.
His body was limp as they pulled him down, but once free of the restraints she saw the life come back to his eyes.
Eyes full of hatred, looking at her. Her heart shattered, as the King came to stand behind her and place a hand on her shoulder.
The devastation and anger across her brother’s face as he looked between them almost broke through her facade.
“I think, perhaps, I have kept you too long from your wedding day Rosamund, shall we?”
Golden sand rose from the ground and swirled around them, blocking her brother from view. As the room around them became obscured she heard his screams, “Traitor! You fucking traitor! TRAITOR!”
They arrived in the central chamber of the Temple, where the rest of her bridal party waited, all of them immediately sank into low bows and curtsies, “Your Majesty.”
The King turned to her, raised her hand to his mouth and gently kissed the back of it, “I look forward to seeing more of you, Lady Rosamund.”
She forced herself not to snatch her hand back.
Without another glance to her the King headed towards the temple doors.
Falling into step behind him was the same woman from the House of the Silver Eye, the Grand Seer.
Her veil, covered in sapphire eyes, turned to look at Rosamund.
Again, there was something familiar in the way the woman held herself, and as she turned to follow the King, her veil shifted and Rosamund caught sight of a long strand of golden hair.
I know you…
Someone shook her arm, pulling her from her thoughts, “Rosamund?”
Emrys frowned when he saw the tears in her eyes. Elswyth rushed forward, “what happened?”
“Nothing…it’s nothing,” said Rosamund, desperately trying to regain her composure.
None of them believed her.
“Rosamund your dress!” cried Marianne as she knelt to examine the dark marks along her hem.
“No one will notice,” said Isolde quickly, “you still look wonderful.”
“Yes, yes of course,” said Marianne, nodding in enthusiastic agreement.
“Lady…everyone will notice,” said Gnash solemnly.
She laughed, as the others tried to hush the little goblin. It went a long way towards easing the tension in her and calming the storm. Though Tristan’s expression, the betrayal, still haunted her.
The King’s timing had not been a coincidence.
He had wanted her unsettled, and yet at the same time had clearly sought the same person he had once been friends with.
Her father. He was looking for her father, in her.
And Tristan. She had abandoned him. Left him to be taken back to that miserable tower.
Or perhaps worse. Perhaps he would remain in the Baurnhof.
I will find you. I will save you. I’m sorry.
“Do you need to take a moment?” Emrys asked softly.
“No,” she said firmly, and then more softly, “No, I…I need this.”
Elswyth and Emrys shared a look, but the former gave a firm nod and said, “alright ladies-”
“-and goblins-”
“- and goblins, positions.”
The doors opened again and Rosamund watched as the three princesses gracefully made their way down the aisle. Emrys, continued to hold her arm in his, giving it another squeeze.
“Tell me later?” he said as he reached up to lower her veil across her face.
She nodded, but how could she tell anyone what she had learned?
What her father had done. What she had done.
But it was necessary. The Rosamund that had arrived in Aurelmere would have rushed in headfirst and likely found herself hung on a cross beside her brother.
This way, she could fight to free him. And destroy the King that had ruined their lives.
I will make him suffer…
Emrys raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled in return and loosened her grip on his arm. Without another word they walked into the temple together.
The entire room had been filled with flowers.
Winding vines covered the aisle, and petals were strewn along the emerald, green carpet that stretched ahead of her.
The pews were packed with people and as she passed them, she felt more of the tension leave her body.
The first time she had walked down this aisle she had seen nothing but the mocking and snide looks from the Lords and Ladies of the court.
“Is that scarlet in her sleeve?”
“Outrageous.”
“Never mind the sleeves, was that a goblin?”
Emrys leaned close to her and whispered, “very perceptive,” and she did nothing to suppress the laugh that burst forth.
Amongst the vipers of the court she saw allies, friends.
Corvin stood alongside Fabricio, Hugo, Anders and Margot, the latter wiping a tear from her eye, as little Meredith stood on the pew and waved.
With every step she felt her confidence building, even as she passed the other royals.
She saw a hint of a smile on Celeste’s face; there was even a smile from Osric and a wide beaming grin from Aurelian.
There was even the barest of nods from Queen Lyonesse who stood beside the King.
And then she saw him. Standing at the alter beside Sir Wulf.
Dorian, dressed entirely in the claret, cobalt and gold of House Valehart.
His long ceremonial coat was lavishly embroidered with gold thread that traced climbing roses along the sleeves and shoulders.
A claret mantle fell from one shoulder, lined with shimmering gold silk.
Her House colours. Hers. From the dark look on the King’s face he was not pleased with his sons choice, but she did not care.
He had done enough to ruin this for her; she would not let him take this.
This wonderful thing that Dorian had dared to do for her.
She watched as Wulf glanced behind, and with a grin nudged his friend.
Dorian turned slowly, his eyes widening with delight when he saw her.
He offered her one of his rare, crooked smiles that reached his eyes.
Eyes that looked bluer against the sapphire of his high collared coat.
She wanted to rush to him, had even picked up her pace, and only stopped when Emrys pulled gently on her arm, an amused smile on his face.
He then gently lifted her veil before leaning in to kiss her cheek, “you look beautiful, Rosamund Valehart.”
“Thank you,” she whispered back to the knight, watching as he moved to stand beside Sir Wulf, neither of them looking best pleased with the arrangement.
Elswyth held out a hand for her bouquet and finally, she turned to Dorian.
Stepping close to him, she placed her hands in his. For now they were gloved, with so many people present, some appearances needed to be upheld. As always, he towered above her, and she had to crane her neck to look at him.
“You’re going to get into a lot of trouble for this,” she whispered.
“I’m already in a lot of trouble. What’s one more disappointment,” he whispered back, “besides, we’ll get through it.”
Every last worry melted away as she looked at him. Whatever was in store for them, whatever challenges they would face, she knew that she would overcome it. Together.
“You are mine,” she whispered as the High Luminary began his service, “and I am yours.”
“Always.”