Page 8 of Waking Roslyn

She looked confused. “No, but I should have.”

“You did the right thing. I was fine.”

“Are you certain, miss?”

“You and I get to start our new adventure tomorrow.” I forced cheer into my voice, hoping to distract her. “Everything is wonderful.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue with me either.

As I settled in for my last night of sleep at the castle, I thought of all the possibilities that lay before me. A quiet life in the country. Distance from the duke and duchess. A place to hopefully be myself while I waited and hoped for good news from my parents.

And good news was possible, I reminded myself. King Terius just needed another child. Was that too much to ask?

***

It was so much warmer here in the southern part of Winberg. It had been a bit of a shock to come down out of the mountains and find spring already upon the land in the first week of March. Surprising and glorious. Saldine wasn’t mountainous, so the harsher weather in Winhaven had never been to my liking.

The journey had been mostly silent, though once in a while I was able to draw my maid, Everly, into conversation.

The carriage rolled through the village of Murrwood, which was much smaller than Winhaven, of course, but seemed to have all the necessities on High Street. Baker, cobbler, tailer, apothecary… The road leading from the village to Bridgefield Manor was surrounded by tall trees, dressed in their new bright-green growth.

We pulled up to the house and I was surprised not only by its size, but by the fact that the two wings of the manor looked so different. It seemed the original house had been deemed too small and so an entirely new wing had been added on long after the original house had started showing its age.

The wheels rumbled to a stop, and I forced myself to be patient and wait for the footman to open the door. Something about the utter imperfection of this place called to me. The palace and grounds in Winhaven were exquisite and vibrant, and filled with some of the most beautiful flower gardens I could have imagined, but they’d always felt like a facade. This place looked like it held both joy and pain. Sorrow and loss.

The carriage door was pulled open, and I set my gloved hand in that of the footman and climbed down, careful to keep my royal-blue skirt from getting under my feet.

I eagerly entered when the butler pulled the door open, immediately taken by the way the dark wood gleamed in the sunlight pouring through the windows.

I allowed the butler to take my cloak and gloves as I continued to gawk.

“Ah. Rose.”

I looked toward the sound of Edmund’s bored tones. He was coming down the corridor, a number of papers in one hand and a goblet in the other.

“Lord Rockwell,” I said, sinking into a respectful curtsey.

“It’s good you’re here. I’m certain Lisette could use the company.” He nodded vaguely toward the stairs, which I assumed meant that Lisette was upstairs, before continuing on to a sitting room that was situated to my right. He said nothing more, only kicked the door closed.

I gave a little shake of my head, wondering for the thousandth time why he never kept his wife company if he knew she needed it. But that was not Edmund’s way. It never had been.

“You’ve arrived!” Lisette’s voice sang out from above me. She was making her way down the staircase, looking as lovely as ever, but with clear lines of stress around her eyes.

She reached the entryway and I happily embraced her.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said, lingering over the hug for longer than was usual. I immediately started to worry.

“Are you well?” I asked as I pulled back.

Instead of answering, she just grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the stairs. “Come. I’ll show you your room. Tessa, will you bring tea up to Miss Rose’s room?”

The maid scurried off to comply, and I followed Lisette up the stairs, my eyes darting around as I did so, admiring the paintings hanging on the walls and the decorative woodwork that arched over the windows.

The servants were quick to bring up my trunks, and Tessa arrived with tea just as the last of my luggage was being deposited. Lisette thanked the servants and encouraged them to be on their way, so it wasn’t long before we closed the door of my room and I turned my gaze on my cousin.

She smiled, though it was pinched. Instead of being blunt and telling her she looked as if she were trying to look happy while walking through a field of goatheads, I took a gentler approach.

“So, why is it that their graces have exiled you and your husband here?”