Time slipped by and Rhosyn sipped ever more from her glass, constantly topped up. Conversation drifted to minor issues or of personal memories and Rhosyn looked to be lost in her own thoughts. She kept her gaze trained at her cup and watched the contents drain and refill.
Leoric wondered how much it was to avoid the prince's gaze or his own.
He knew she had no tolerance for alcohol as it was and that she was trying to hide inside the numbness it promised. But like so many before who'd fallen victim to its lies, her glass touched her lips—maybe one more would help.
Leoric bent close, hand ghosting on hers and mouth parting to hush words, when Elin appeared over Rhosyn's shoulder.
"My Lady," she whispered. "It's getting late, it's time for the bedding ceremony."
Rhosyn all but froze at the words, as if all too sober to be hearing them.
He could feel how she trembled underhand, though no one else seemed to be paying her any attention.
"My Lady?" Elin asked, worried by Rhosyn's silence.
"Thank you, Elin," she replied, calmly, trying to relax her maid. "It is time," she said as if stating an inevitable fact, drained her wine and then stood.
For a moment longer Leoric stayed seated, staring up at her as she refused to look at him.
The party-goers' attention shifted to them and he sighed deeply before rising to stand. Shared understanding quietened the room as everyone's gaze rose at the sight of them.
Though there was always someone who had to have the last word. "I'd like to offer one last congratulations to my dearest friend, Lady Rhosyn," the prince stood, raising a glass in the air to toast. "I am happy that you've got everything you asked for. You deserve it and so much more, and I assure you, I'll be a loving and grateful friend to you—always."
His smile was too neat, words too soft and everyone hummed in admiration of his 'kind words'. But Leoric saw the way humour glinted in the prince's eyes. He was gloating. It was a message disguised in pretty sentiment for Rhosyn.
By the way she still couldn't meet his eyes, Leoric guessed she knew what he was implying.
Rhosyn held her stone-face composure, curtsied before moving for a back door and he followed a few steps behind.
The walk through the manor's corridors was done in utter silence. Elin never left Rhosyn's side, though she didn't voice the concern that pooled in her. He could see how she worried a lip.
The maid held open a door for them, Rhosyn not missing a beat as she travelled deeper into the dim room. Caerwyn remained outside, Elin nervously rocking on the balls of her feet.
When Leoric crossed the threshold, he took in the furniture, the size of the room. It was a decent size, though clearly not the master's bedrooms. Though this room suited her, something that she felt comfortable in—normally.
She hesitated at the foot of her bed as if preparing herself.
"Leave us, Elin," he said, quietly.
The maid stuttered in the doorway a beat longer, unsure if she should listen to his command or wait on her lady.
"Please," he added and only then did Elin move, closing the door softly behind herself.
Rhosyn hadn't moved, still trapped in whatever thoughts had her now.
"Rhosyn," he called and she shivered, returning to him. "Tell me what he said."
Her hand clutched at her middle, where her other brushed the wood of her bed post and Leoric wondered how much it was for support.
For a moment he didn't know if she'd answer him. He took a step forward and as if his advance was the true treat, she spoke.
"He," she choked and Leoric could already feel his rage building. "He has requested my presence at court—"
"No," he snarled, cutting her off with a flinch and he regretted it.
Silence sank between them, a draft that tugged pathetically at his cloak, but slinked between her skirt and wrestled a chill from her.
He wondered what she was truly scared of—refusing the prince or blindly appeasing him. Leoric tasted the bitterness that maybe she also feared him.
That drove the fire from him.
Rhosyn's hand shifted and her dress strap slipped over her shoulder—she was shaking.
"Stop," he commanded and she complied. "I'm not going to make you do this." He turned to the door. "Get some rest, tomorrow we're heading north." His hand settled on the cold metal of the door handle.
"Wait," desperation gripped the word, catching him.
Leoric turned to find Rhosyn half the room closer, panic lingering in her eyes in a way that didn't suit her usual confident gaze.
"If you leave, everyone will know that we haven't..." Her gaze dropped, not being able to voice it. "It'll tell our enemies a weakness they can use against us."
She wasn't wrong. If anyone, especially someone looking to cause ill will, would learn they hadn't consummated, then it'll prove that the wedding wasn't sealed. Technically, it could be annulled leaving her vulnerable. And they both knew the prince would snatch at anything right now to keep her.
"Fine," Leoric sighed. "I'll stay on the couch." He crossed the room easily to the small two-seater.
It wouldn't be comfortable, but it'll protect her.
He contemplated his temporary bed, removing a few cushions that surprisingly created a lot more space, though he knew his height and frame would dwarf the fine sofa.
Rhosyn shifted somewhere behind him, a whisper of fabric and silk, something almost secret and private occupying the room and he kept his eyes trained elsewhere. He could feel her nerves strain in the air, a tension he hoped minimising his presence would relieve.
The mattress shifted quietly behind him, a breath hushed and he pretended not to hear.
"I-it's cold," she stuttered, anxiety pooling inside her. "And there's only one duvet..."
Leoric paused midway through shifting sofa cushions. Surely she wasn't suggesting...
He glanced up, catching her timid eyes, fingers playing with the blanket in nervous balls. She was apprehensive, but she wasn't small. He noticed how the quilt moved, limbs brushing against each other to generate heat. He wondered how much this was because she was grateful for him staying and trying to repay him with a sleeping spot that wouldn't cram his spine. Or because she was simply cold and knew how hot he always was
She sat in the bed, blanket engulfing her and he decided to cross the room curiously in answer. It curled something pleasant inside him, almost giddy to be wanted—even if it was to keep her own safety.
Slipping off his boots, Leoric stripped his cloak, jacket and shirt. Catching Rhosyn's gaze lingering on him, only shying away when noticing his raised brow and turning over.
He decided to keep his trousers on, despite how uncomfortable it was to sleep in so many layers. Finally he slipped into the bed, being mindful of her space and he happily stretched out, thankful he didn't have to sleep on the couch after all.
Silence dampened the dark space and Leoric didn't mind. It had been a long day, surprisingly enjoyable in parts, and regrettably unpleasant in others. But this wasn't one of them. It might be strategy, but he didn't mind the moments of staging that brought her closer to him. For him, it wasn't acting, didn't have to be. He liked her and happily clung to her in those intimate moments.
The bed shifted, pulling him from his mind. Rhosyn's body shivered, trembling through the mattress. Though he wasn't sure if she was cold, or scared.
He closed his eyes, resolved to sleep as still as he could—give her space. She'd already had one man all but claim her, she probably feared he'd be no different.
Something sudden and cold brushed his leg and he clenched in response.
"Sorry," she sputtered.
"Was that your feet?"
"I'm sorry, I always have cold feet," she explained, trying to wave away the embarrassment hot on her tongue.
"Are you cold?" he asked, a moment of unsure silence hung between them.
Then, Rhosyn half turned over, her eyes peeking to find his attention already on her.
"It's winter, it's cold—aren't you?" she defended herself, deflecting rather than admit weakness.
Leoric smirked. "No, this is nothing compared to winters in the north."
She slipped for the shortest beat—fretting the experience perhaps—then it was gone.
"You're telling me you're not cold?" Rhosyn asked, gaze exploring how the duvet only covered his waist and lower. Then she caught herself and retrained it back on his face.
"Don't believe me?" He quirked a brow, amused.
She was getting flustered, he could see it in the heat in her cheeks, in the resolve fixed in the raise of her chin and set of her lips. But curiosity lingered in her eyes and he knew she wanted to bridge the space. He wanted it too.
"Rhosyn, you're shivering," he said simply and she's losing whatever argument she's having with herself.
A hand slid across his chest, slow and nervous, but he remained still, watching her intently. There was another war she was having in her head, but with every deliberate inch toward him, he was sure he was winning.
It was when her body pressed against his and he became awfully aware that she wasn't wearing her dress anymore.
Skin kissed skin and Leoric stilled. It ran up and down him, like electric and ice, and he took a deliberate breath.
Rhosyn cuddled into the nook of his body, happily humming in this warmth. He could feel the chill slip from her, the way her body stopped trembling and her breathing relaxed. She seemed content there. A hand reached, skimming his stomach and clutched at his chest. Her leg wrapped around his, again, skin brushing skin and he anchored himself.
After a beat, Leoric's hand slipped down, glancing her calf and she froze. Then, before she could catch her breath and retort, he drew her dagger.
"What are you doing?" she accused, a little shaky, hand pressing him into the bed as she looked down at him.
"We don't want our enemies to use this against us," he explained and proceeded to press the blade into the tip of his finger, slipping it under his nail until it stung.
Carefully, he returned the dagger, retreating his hand purposely. Then he bled his finger into the mattress. For if anyone questioned the crown's spies.