Chapter 59
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
ROSAMUND
I don’t realize the exact moment Valen vanishes from the great hall, but next time I glance up, seeking the reassurance of his presence, he’s gone.
I stare blankly at the space he’d occupied before. He’s not my self-appointed bodyguard anymore. My protector. My companion.
He’s leaving soon.
My heart feels too heavy. Lord Eorl is engrossed in conversation with the man on his other side, a bearded nobleman whose name I didn’t catch.
I feel untethered. Kind of lost.
Get yourself together, I tell myself sternly, and sit up straighter. What did you expect? Flowers and sweet nothings? Pet names and embraces? Someone like Valen?
Gods, I did, didn’t I? That’s what happens when the first man you meet, other than your father and stepfather, is nice to you. It sets up unrealistic expectations.
This will be my new home. I’ll get to know the people here, make friends and find my place. Like everything in life, it will take work. That’s par for the course.
Musicians wind among the guests, playing lyres and lutes, pipes and flutes. They gather in the space between the tables, striking a livelier tune, and Lord Eorl stands up.
“May the dance begin,” he intones and reaches down for me. “Come, betrothed. Let’s set the example.”
Not given much of a choice, I take his hand and get up, pasting on a smile. I’ve learned the popular dances, of course, but I’ve never been particularly good at them, because nobody has ever asked me to dance before.
He doesn’t give me much time to fret, which is a blessing. He pulls me around the tables and to the space between them, where the musicians are playing. He then grabs my hip and wrist and starts to dance.
I frown, trying to follow his lead. It’s a fast piece, and my feet, still sore and unused to these new shoes, this man, this music, keep tangling with one another. I stumble against him, and he shoves me back with a hiss.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s fine, just follow my lead.”
I grind my teeth together. “Trying.”
He says nothing more, sweeping me into a spin, then another, and I can barely breathe, doing my best not to trip again. His grip is bruising, but at least it’s holding me upright.
More couples have joined us, spinning around us. Everyone is staring at me, and it’s not making this any easier.
After another near fall, he leans in and says, “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m tired,” I blurt out, “my lord. I’ve walked for days and haven’t rested.”
“Finish the dance, then you can sit.”
I nod, grateful for his patience with me.
“If you are to become the lady of this manor,” he says, “you need to overlook your needs. Put on a good face.”
He’s right, of course he’s right. So why does my throat feel so tight?
We finish the dance, and the seated guests applaud. The musicians instantly strike up another piece, and I start stepping back, only to have Lord Eorl grip my hip and wrist harder.
“What…?”
He sweeps me into another dance, and I follow, dismayed. It’s another fast piece, and the footing is complicated. Predictably, I stumble again, and he glares as he spins me and barely stops me from falling.
“I didn’t want another dance,” I say. “Please—”
“When will you understand that I don’t care about what you want?” he hisses. “Now is as good a time as any to get that through that pretty head of yours. If you want to be my wife, you will do as I say.”
Shock flashes through me. “But—”
“Enough out of you.”
We’ve stopped in the middle of the swirling couples, both of us breathing hard. The song is drawing to its close, the dancers slowing down.
I can’t believe he’d lecture me here, now, where everyone can see us. On the first day we met, not paying attention to the truth of what I’m telling him.
I’m exhausted. Surely he can tell. Surely he knows. Why is he hurting me like this?
“Excuse me,” a grave voice says. “May I have this dance?”
I tear my gaze off my future husband, incredulous. “Valen,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Asking to dance with you.” He arches a pale brow. “It is customary to switch dance partners, I believe?”
Lord Eorl turns his gaze on Valen, though his expression is blank, as if he can’t quite place him. Then he releases me and, turning, he walks away.
Just like that.
Valen takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. “My lady.”
I swallow hard, hating how my eyes burn with fear, relief and pleasure. “My lord.”
“Thank you for this honor. I will always cherish the memory of this dance in the days to come.”
A tear slips free and rolls down my cheek. He lifts a hand, his fingertip gentle as he wipes it away. Then he slides his hand around my waist and tugs me closer to his body.
It’s a slow dance. Valen doesn’t seem to pay much heed to the music, which is still fast and furious, but he still somehow manages to keep us in rhythm as we sway slowly under the chandelier.
“I’m so tired,” I whisper, needing someone to understand.
“You should be resting,” he says, and the acknowledgment almost sends me to my knees.
“You shouldn’t have challenged him.”
“It was that obvious, then,” he says darkly, not even pretending to be ignorant of what I’m talking about.
Because Valen has always been straight with me.
His scent, his warmth, and his careful hold on me are soothing. I want to stay like this forever. But yeah, interrupting our argument to all but demand to dance with me was a challenge, and it seems to me, even after mere hours of knowing Lord Eorl, that he won’t let this go easily.
I only just met my betrothed, and I’m already afraid of him.
Is this what our marriage is going to be like?