Damned by Him Chapter 20: A visitor

Thank you so much @ Jennifer_Goliah for the gift.

********

Rosaline had barely shut the door behind her before Lily slipped into the room, her expression already carrying the weight of unanswered questions.

The air inside was still warm from the earlier announcent....the royal ball. It lingered like an invisible pressure, pressing against the walls, against their thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

Rosaline exhaled slowly and moved toward the window, her fingers brushing the curtain as she looked outside without really seeing anything.

"So..." Lily began, dropping onto the edge of the bed as if she had been holding the words in since the hallway. "The Virellion rogith incident. The fire.?"

Rosaline didn’t turn. "What about the fire." she muttered seemingly out of focus.

"That wasn’t normal," Lily pressed, voice tightening. "The way the guards reacted, the way the duke reacted...everything was too... contained. Like it was expected."

Rosaline finally glanced over her shoulder. "And?"

"And?" Lily repeated, incredulous. "You’re telling you’re not curious? That fire wasn’t just an accident. And then that day in the market...he shows up, everything shifts, and suddenly there’s no anger from him? No consequence? That’s not how power works."

Rosaline turned fully now, folding her arms. "Not everything has a hidden thread pulling it together, Lily. Sotis things happen. People respond. That’s it."

Lily shook her head imdiately, curls bouncing slightly. "No. Not in places like this. Not around people like him....there are rumors."

Rosaline opened her mouth to respond, but the knock interrupted her.

A maid stood at the doorway, hands folded neatly. " Your Grace, you are needed downstairs. The seamstress has arrived."

Rosaline raised a brow. "Now?"

"Yes, my lady."

Behind her, Lily had already stood, suspicion still etched into her face like it refused to leave. Rosaline glanced at her once, then back at the maid.

"Very well."

She stepped out, the maid leading the way. The corridor felt longer than usual, the silence between their footsteps stretching thin.

After a mont, Rosaline spoke casually, "What’s your na?"

The maid hesitated slightly, then answered, "Mara, my lady."

"Thank you, Mara."

Behind them, Lily followed at a slower pace, her mind clearly elsewhere. Her eyes drifted over the walls, the guards stationed at intervals...absorbing everything, but seeing sothing else entirely.

Rosaline noticed, but said nothing.

They descended into the lower corridor where the air changed...warr, scented faintly with fabric dye and lavender oil. Voices grew clearer as they approached the drawing room.

Mara opened the doors.

And the world inside unfolded like an opulent spill of color.

Bolts of fabric were arranged across long tables...silks that shimred under the light, velvets deep as wine, embroidered textiles that caught every flicker of movent. Three won stood near them, each dressed modestly but with the precise confidence of artisans who knew their craft.

At the center stood a woman in her forties, spectacles resting low on her nose as she examined a asuring tape between her fingers.

And then there was Xandros.

He sat on the couch as though the room belonged to him...which, in truth, it did. One leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed but deliberate. His black hair caught the light just enough to reveal its sheen, and his grey eyes lifted the mont Rosaline entered.

Everything else in the room seed to pause.

"Co here," he said simply.

Rosaline stepped forward carefully.

"Sit," he added, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "We will begin with your dress."

"I don’t have any preference," she replied.

A faint curve touched his lips. "Then we will decide for you."

That should have sounded dismissive. It didn’t.

One of the seamstresses shifted, preparing to speak, but Xandros lifted a hand slightly and she stopped imdiately.

He leaned forward just enough for his gaze to settle fully on Rosaline. His thumb reached out. .slow, unhurried...and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

The room collectively forgot how to breathe.

Rosaline felt it before she processed it: the subtle command in the gesture, the ownership disguised as gentleness.

His thumb tilted her chin upward.

Her gaze t his.

Around them, fabric rustled as soone awkwardly looked away, pretending sudden fascination with silk patterns that didn’t require that level of attention.

"I think," he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear properly, "i know the color that would suit you."

His thumb lingered near the edge of her lips...just there, not quite touching.

A silence stretched.

Then, almost as if nothing unusual had occurred at all, he withdrew his hand.

A faint smile remained.

"I will choose the best color for you," he said aloud, leaning back again.

Rosaline swallowed whatever reaction threatened to form and instead straightened.

Xandros stood suddenly. "Now," he said, "display the fabrics. All of them."

A seamstress imdiately began arranging the textiles in front of her, presenting each one like an offering.

Rosaline moved from one to the next...gold, ivory, deep sapphire, pale blush. Each fabric slipped through her fingers with varying textures, each one pulling a different kind of silence from her thoughts.

Behind her, Xandros watched.

After several rounds, he stepped forward and took the erald fabric from the table himself. Without asking, he lifted Rosaline’s hand gently and placed the cloth against her palm, then guided her arm behind her back as if asuring how it would fall against her figure.

"You will have your dress made from this," he decided looking at the erald fabric in front of him.

Then his tone shifted, lighter now. "And you will also have a new task."

Rosaline looked up slightly.

"You have one hour," he said, "to learn the art of partnered dance. The royal ball will not entertain hesitation."

A woman entered the drawing room...a teacher, poised and precise.

"I am Mada Elisa," she said, bowing slightly. "I will be instructing you in the Virellian Waltz of Accord."

Xandros gave a brief nod, already turning away. "Do not disappoint ."

And then he left.

"Just like that?" She thought

Xandros went straight to his wing as the door to his study closed behind him with controlled finality.

Inside, the room was quieter than the rest of the palace...heavy shelves, dark wood, faint scent of ink and old parchnt. A single figure already sat there, as if he had been waiting for hours rather than minutes.

White hair. Gray eyes. Stillness that felt deliberate rather than natural.

Xandros did not pause.

"You arrived early," he said.

The man tilted his head slightly. "You took longer than expected."

A faint smirk tugged at Xandros’ mouth. "I was entertaining guests."

"I heard," the man replied flatly. "Your guests seem... delicate."

Xandros walked to his desk and leaned against it instead of sitting. "Careful, Kiel. You might sound jealous."

Kiel’s gaze lifted slowly. "Jealousy requires interest."

"That so?"

A brief silence passed between them...asured, sharp.

Kiel stood finally. He was the sa height as Xandros, built similarly, but everything about him felt colder. Less decorative. More efficient. Like a blade that did not need polishing to remain dangerous.

"I ca because of the Virellion situation," Kiel said.

Xandros exhaled softly. "You always co when sothing burns."

"And you always stand near the fire."

A pause.

Then Xandros smiled slightly. "You make it sound romantic."

Kiel’s expression did not change. "I would not insult romance like that."

For the first ti, Xandros chuckled. Quiet, short.

"You still hate ," he observed.

"I don’t waste energy on hate," Kiel replied. "I assess threats."

"And I am one of them?"

Kiel stepped closer, stopping just before the desk. "You are the variable I cannot predict."

Xandros straightened slightly. "Then perhaps you should stop trying."

Kiel’s eyes narrowed faintly. "The girl."

The atmosphere shifted.

Xandros’ expression remained composed, but sothing in his gaze sharpened. "Which one?"

"The one you touched."

A pause.

Xandros tilted his head. "Careful. That sounds like concern."

Kiel ignored the remark. "She doesn’t belong in your court gas."

"She’s learning quickly," Xandros replied.

"That’s not what I asked."

A quiet tension stretched between them, neither moving.

Then Xandros finally said, "You ca all this way to talk about my wife?"

"I ca to remind you," Kiel said, voice lowering slightly, "that control is not entertainnt. It is necessity."

Xandros pushed off the desk. "And you confuse necessity with possession."

Kiel’s eyes held steady. "No. I understand possession perfectly."

Silence again.

Then Xandros smiled...thin, unreadable. "Then we understand each other better than I thought."

Kiel turned slightly toward the door. "I will remain in the palace for a while."

"Of course you will."

"And I will observe."

Xandros gestured lightly. "Do try not to be obvious."

Kiel left without another word.

The room remained still long after.

*******

"My lady...again," Mada Elisa corrected gently, adjusting Rosaline’s hand.

Rosaline exhaled sharply, repositioning her feet.

"This stance feels unnatural," she muttered.

"It will," Elisa replied calmly. "Until it becos instinct."

The movent began again.

Step. Turn. Shift. Pivot. Return.

Rosaline followed, but the sequence felt like it was slipping through her body instead of settling into it. Her back ached from holding posture too rigidly, her shoulders tight with unfamiliar discipline.

"This is... excessive," she murmured under her breath.

"You will thank later," Elisa said.

Rosaline wasn’t convinced.

Another rotation.

She missed a step.

"Again," Elisa said patiently.

Rosaline inhaled slowly.

Again.

One, two, two, one, two.

The rhythm started to embed itself...hesitant at first, then steadier. The partnered motion demanded awareness she wasn’t used to: invisible coordination, anticipation, response.

By the ti the hour neared its end, her body felt like it had learned a language it didn’t fully understand yet.

Finally, Elisa stepped back and bowed.

"You have the foundation," she said. "Now it must be refined."

Rosaline nodded faintly, more out of exhaustion than agreent.

Lily imdiately appeared beside her, clapping softly.

"That was impressive," she said quickly. "For soone who looked like she wanted to collapse halfway through."

Rosaline shot her a tired look. "Encouraging."

"It is encouraging," Lily insisted. "You didn’t fall."

"That is the standard now?"

Before Lily could respond, movent caught Rosaline’s attention.

The doors ahead opened.

Xandros stepped out first.

And beside him walked another man.

The corridor between them felt narrower than it actually was.

Rosaline stopped instinctively.

Lily did too...but her gaze did not settle on Xandros.

It locked onto Kiel.

Sothing in his stare had already found her.

Not curiosity.

Not casual observation.

Sothing sharper. He was watching her like a calculation that refused to resolve cleanly.

Lily’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly.

Rosaline noticed it imdiately.

But the real tension wasn’t between Xandros and Rosaline.

It wasn’t even between the two n who stood like mirrored contradictions.

It was between Lily and the white-haired stranger who did not look away.

Xandros observed the silence with faint amusent.

Kiel did not.

And Lily, for the first ti, didn’t either.