Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
ROSAMUND
I’ve been washed and scrubbed, my hair lathered and rinsed several times until it’s squeaky clean, and then combed through with aromatic oil and brushed up, secured there with pins.
I’ve been strapped inside a corset and long undergarments, stockings and shoes, and this long gown was pulled over me and then laced at the front.
So here I stand now, in the great hall of Lord Eorl’s manor, smelling of flowers, with jewelry that doesn’t belong to me weighing my earlobes and neck, and I…
I want to say that I feel more like myself…
but I’m not sure that’s true. Before Valen, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say it, but now I feel that I’ve become more honest with myself.
Now I don’t know who I am, only that in my heart, I’m not a lady meant for embroidery or for banquets. I’m... myself, which is vague, but I know now that I love both the quiet and the noise, both the gowns and the freedom of running through meadows, the freedom to touch and learn, and—
Valen. He’s here. I know it even before I locate him in the small crowd gathered in the hall, a fleeting glimpse, almost a feeling that his tall form is somewhere across from me.
When I do see him, my breath whooshes out of my chest.
Sleeping Gods, he’s so gorgeous, and I’m not the only one looking. Everyone seems to be staring at him.
He cleans up nicely, I think, and almost laugh, because he was just as striking half-naked, with his silvery hair sticking up in all directions and his arms covered in blood.
But now he’s dressed in dark leggings and tall black boots, a white shirt on top, his hair still wet and combed back.
Every line of his powerful body is outlined by his clothes, and every line of his handsome face is cast in stark relief.
He seems to draw the tremulous light of the chandeliers swinging overhead.
It glints on the studs of the collar. He’s still wearing it. Why?
Then everyone’s gaze returns to me. Or not precisely to me, I belatedly realize, but to the man coming to stand beside me.
Lord Eorl.
It’s such an odd feeling, to turn my head and see another man standing beside me, a man who isn’t Valen. At first, I think he’ll take my hand or wrap an arm around me, but he makes no such move.
And then I remember that this is how it’s supposed to be.
Gods, Rosie, I scold myself. A few days in the wilderness, and suddenly Valen’s loose werewolf morals and wild customs became the norm? Get your head on straight.
This is where you belong. Not out in the wild, washing in cold streams and sleeping in caves.
More guests gather as Lord Eorl leads the way toward the long tables, his quick glance at me the only indication I’m to follow by his side. As we did back home, he sits at the top of the long table in the middle, and he nods at the chair beside him for me to sit.
Shocked murmurs rise from the gathered guests as I take it. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and lick my dry lips, gazing around at all the nobles, most of them human with the occasional high fae.
One of them has a lesser fae collared, on a leash, and that makes me think of Valen back home. My throat closes with regret.
Where is Valen? I’m so aware of him, my gaze instantly finding him still standing at the other end of the hall, and I almost lift my hand to gesture him closer, when I realize…
I realize that’s where he will sit. Far away from me. That’s his place now, among the other, lesser guests, while I sit beside the lord of the manor.
As everyone sits down, Lord Eorl remains standing and gestures for me to stand as well. The whispers and giggling stop, and a hush falls over the hall.
“My lords and ladies,” Lord Eorl says. His voice is grave and carries nicely over the assembly.
He has a presence, too, an aura of power, and I would have been impressed if I hadn’t known Valen.
Valen’s presence is a mountain compared to the gentle hill that is Lord Eorl.
“Settle down. I have an important announcement to make.”
“Hear, hear!” someone calls out. “Be quiet!”
“Welcome to my home.” Lord Eorl’s gaze travels over the hall. “We are gathered here to celebrate the turning of the season, as is our custom, but today we have one more reason to celebrate. We have had the unexpected pleasure of the arrival of our betrothed.”
The murmurs and mutterings start again instantly.
“Lady Rosamund Briar,” he speaks over the rising noise, “has arrived today and is here with us. Here, right by my side. I give you Lady Rosamund.”
Unsure of what to do, I curtsy slightly, a hot blush spreading over my face.
“It is our pleasure to announce our future marriage and the merging of the Houses Eorl and Briar,” he goes on, “as well as our estates, in two weeks’ time from now.”
I glance sharply at him. We haven’t even had a real introduction or conversation yet. Haven’t discussed my family, or his… or the wedding. I thought I’d have some say in this matter.
But is it important? The sooner we get married, the better. And it’s not like my family will attend the wedding, not after what they did. Eventually, I’ll have to tell Lord Eorl what they did, how they tried to kill me. They will never be invited.
Valen is looking at me from across the hall, a broad-shouldered figure at the other end of the banquet table, his silver-gray head bowed.
I swear I can feel his gaze on me, as if checking I’m all right.
The distance between us feels greater than ever. It’s a chasm, a sea stretching between where I’m sitting and him, greater than the few yards that actually separate us.
It’s done. I’ve been proclaimed Lord Eorl’s future wife, lady of his manor, partner in his estates and business, as was the plan. Now I can no longer pretend I’m someone else, someone free to act as I want, act on impulses and desires.
What other choice is there?
The banquet passes in a blur. I haven’t seen so much food in ages… which can’t be right. How long ago did Valen carry me away from home? It can’t have been more than a week or ten days at most. I find myself eating too fast, grabbing the meat with my hands, and laughter finally registers.
When I look up, I find people staring at me and pointing.
Lord Eorl is giving me the stink eye. “What in the hells are you doing?”
“Apologies.” I wipe my greasy fingers on a napkin. “I was hungry.”
“You are to be my wife. Don’t you dare tarnish my good image.”
“That’s overdramatic,” I whisper. “Surely this isn’t so important?”
His face darkens. “What did you say?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and scrunch up the napkin in my hands. “Nothing, my lord. Again, I apologize.”
“Use the utensils provided,” he hisses. “We’re not animals.”
A silence has spread around us. I can feel it pressing on either side of me. Gazes are locked on me, some shocked, some reproving. Shame fills me.
“I’ll do better,” I promise.
“Yes, you will.” He goes on cutting his meat with his knife in sharp, precise movements. “I said no to marrying your stepsister, but I could still change my mind.”
I can’t think of anything to say to that. “My stepsister?”
“I won’t do it, of course,” he says with what I suppose is a reassuring tone. It does nothing to reassure me. “You’re the one I agreed to marry. The real heir to the Briar estates. So eat. Just be more circumspect about it.”