Page 54 of Maid For The Dark Elf

The sarcasm cuts deeper than anger would. I deserve it, of course. Deserve much worse for the way I've treated the woman I claimed to love with desperate sincerity just days ago.

"If there's nothing else⁠—"

"There isn't." She steps backward toward the corridor. "I apologize for disturbing your important work, my lord."

The formal address hits like a slap. My lord. As if we're strangers. As if she never whispered my name against my skin while I promised her impossible futures I was too weak to fight for.

"Rosalie—"

She's already gone, footsteps fading down the corridor with quiet dignity that makes my cowardice even more glaring. I stare at the empty doorway, hating myself more with each passing second.

This is what I've become. A man who speaks of love in private moments, then retreats behind duty the instant real courage is required. A man who lets the woman he adores believe she means nothing rather than face his father's disapproval.

I am, as Nikolai so accurately observed, a complete coward.

The wedding timeline blurs before my eyes as shame and self-loathing war in my chest. Somewhere in this estate, Rosalie continues working to find the man who saved her, despite my cruelty. Continues believing in justice and truth while I hide behind protocol and propriety.

Father's ultimatum echoes in my memory, but it sounds less like wisdom and more like the coward's excuse it truly is.

The estate overflows with nobility, their carriages forming an endless procession through our gates. The Melaniris Quartet arrives with their traditional fanfare—horns and strings. Behind them comes House Thane, then House Korrath, each delegation more elaborate than the last.

I stand in the receiving hall, greeting guests with perfect courtesy while my mind catalogues every face, every conversation fragment, every potential source of information about Lord Ardyn's disappearance. The irony isn't lost on me—celebrating my sister's sacrifice while hunting shadows that continue to elude us.

"Lord Caelric." Lady Thessa extends her jeweled hand with theatrical grace. "Such a magnificent celebration. Your sister must be beside herself with joy."

"Indeed." I brush my lips across her knuckles, tasting lies. "House Vaerith is honored by your presence."

She sweeps past in a cloud of expensive perfume and political calculation. Behind her, Darion Ardyn approaches with his perpetual scowl and suspicious eyes.

"Vaerith." His greeting carries the warmth of winter stone. "Interesting timing for such festivities, given recent... uncertainties."

"Uncertain times require certain celebrations." I meet his stare without flinching. "Stability through tradition, as my father always says."

"Quite." His smile resembles a blade.

He moves on before I can parse that particular threat, leaving me with the uncomfortable certainty that House Ardyn knows more than they're revealing. Another thread to investigate. Another dead end waiting to mock our efforts.

Across the hall, I catch sight of Rosalie directing the placement of floral arrangements, her movements efficient and graceful. She wears the same blue dress she always wears to formal events—likely the only one she possesses—and watching her work sends familiar longing through my chest like poison.

"She's avoiding you quite expertly." Aurelia appears at my elbow, violet eyes following my gaze. "Professional distance at its finest."

"Good. It's appropriate."

"Appropriate." My sister tastes the word like spoiled wine. "How wonderfully diplomatic of you both."

I turn to face her fully, noting the careful cosmetics that can't quite hide the exhaustion around her eyes. Tomorrow she becomes Lady Ardyn, leaving behind everything familiar for political necessity.

"How are you managing?" The question emerges gentler than intended.

"Oh, splendidly. Nothing quite like sacrificing one's future for the greater good." Her smile carries bitter edges. "Though I suspect I'm not the only Vaerith struggling with duty versus desire."

The observation hits too close to comfort. "My situation is different."

"Is it?" She adjusts a wayward curl with deliberate precision. "I didn't understand it at first but… You're both choosing obligation over happiness. The circumstances vary, but the cowardice remains remarkably similar."

"Aurelia—"

"Relax, brother. I'm not here to lecture you about love." She smooths her sapphire gown with hands that tremble slightly. "I'm here to inform you that Therovar Ardyn wishes to discuss 'mutual interests' regarding House Ardyn's future. Apparently our investigation and this little arrangement haven't been as subtle as we hoped."