The second day of Xandros’s absence was sohow worse than the first.
On the first day, Rosaline had been angry.
Anger, she discovered, was easier to manage than worry. Anger was warm. It was loud. It kept her mind occupied and gave her sothing tangible to hold on to. She had spent the entire day telling herself that she did not care that he had left without a word. If the Duke of Dagon thought he could disappear without explanation and expect her not to notice, then he clearly knew nothing about her.
Or so she had told herself.
She had taken breakfast with as much dignity as she could manage, though Lily had caught her glancing toward the entrance hall no fewer than seven tis before the al was over. She had walked through the gardens afterward, pretending to admire the late spring flowers while her ears remained painfully tuned to every sound that resembled carriage wheels. She had even tried reading in the drawing room, only to realize after an hour that she had reread the sa paragraph nine tis without understanding a single word.
By nightfall, she had gone to bed irritated.
By morning of the second day.....which was now.
she was restless.
The feeling had settled beneath her skin before she even opened her eyes. It followed her into breakfast. It clung to her while Lily dressed her hair. It sat with her in the drawing room as she stared out of the grand windows and watched the long driveway leading toward the estate gates.
Nothing.
No carriage.
No rider.
No sign of him.
Rosaline folded her arms tighter across her chest and exhaled sharply, her fingers tapping impatiently against her sleeves. "He is doing this on purpose."
Lily, who was seated near the fireplace embroidering one of Rosaline’s handkerchiefs, looked up slowly. "Doing what, my lady?"
"This." Rosaline gestured vaguely toward the entire world. "Leaving without explanation."
Lily raised a brow. "I do not believe His Grace plans his absences specifically to trouble you."
Rosaline turned toward her so quickly her braid swung over her shoulder. "You think I am troubled?"
Lily wisely lowered her gaze back to the handkerchief. "I think you have walked to that sa window thirteen tis in the last half hour."
Rosaline blinked.
Then lifted her chin.
"That proves nothing."
"It proves," Lily replied softly, though amusent tugged at the corners of her lips, "that perhaps you miss him."
"I do not miss him."
"You are offended he left without telling you."
"That is not the sa thing."
"Mm."
Rosaline narrowed her eyes. "What does that sound an?"
"It ans I have learned not to argue with won who are upset."
"I am not upset."
"Of course not."
Rosaline huffed and turned back toward the window.
The morning outside was beautiful...irritatingly beautiful. The sky was a clear blue, the sunlight warm enough to set the dew glittering on the garden hedges, and servants moved calmly about the courtyard as though the Duke had not disappeared for two days and left his wife to endure the silence of his absence.
That was what bothered her the most.
The silence.
No note.
No explanation.
Not even one of his infuriatingly teasing remarks.
He was a man of a lot of words, and sohow she had grown used to them.
That realization annoyed her enough that she abruptly left the window and began pacing again.
Lily watched her from her chair.
"My lady."
Rosaline stopped.
"What?"
"Sit."
Rosaline frowned.
"I am not a child."
"No," Lily agreed, setting the embroidery aside. "But children and anxious duchesses often behave similarly."
Rosaline stared at her.
Then, against her own will, laughed.
The sound startled both of them.
It was small, but genuine.
And it softened sothing in her chest.
She sat.
Only for a mont.
Then stood again.
"I cannot do this."
"Do what?"
"Wait."
Lily sighed.
Before she could answer...
the sound of carriage wheels echoed from the front gates.
Rosaline froze.
Every nerve in her body went alert.
Her head snapped toward the window.
The wheels were unmistakable.
Heavy.
Fast.
Approaching.
Her heart lurched before her mind could stop it.
"It’s him."
The words left her lips in a whisper.
She was already moving.
Her skirts gathered in both hands as she hurried from the room.
"Rosaline!" Lily called after her, abandoning all formality in surprise.
But Rosaline was gone.
She descended the staircase faster than she should have, one hand gliding along the polished banister as her slippers skimd the marble steps. Her pulse hamred so loudly she could hear nothing else.
At the entrance hall, the butler was already there.
As composed as ever, he stood near the great front doors with one gloved hand raised toward the gatekeeper.
"Open the gates," he instructed calmly.
The iron gates creaked apart.
Rosaline reached the base of the staircase just as the carriage rolled through.
And then...
her steps faltered.
It was not Xandros.
The carriage was white.
Not black.
Its lacquered body glead beneath the sun, trimd in gold leaf so elaborate it almost hurt to look at. Emblazoned across its doors was the unmistakable crest of the royal household...two golden dragons curled around a crown.
The palace.
Not him.
The disappointnt hit so quickly it almost embarrassed her.
She stopped moving entirely.
The butler noticed.
Of course he did.
But true to his training, he said nothing.
The carriage rolled to a smooth halt in front of the mansion steps.
A palace footman stepped down first, followed by a second attendant carrying a silver tray.
On the tray sat an envelope sealed with royal wax.
Rosaline’s shoulders sank.
How ridiculous.
For one foolish mont she had thought...
No.
She would not think it.
At all.
Without waiting for anyone to look at her, she turned sharply and walked back toward the staircase.
"My lady?" Lily called as she finally caught up.
"I am going upstairs."
"But..."
"I have no interest in witnessing soone else’s invitation."
Lily blinked.
Rosaline continued climbing.
Her pace was slower now.
Less frantic.
More dignified.
Or at least she hoped it looked that way.
When she reached the upper landing, she paused near the balcony overlooking the entrance hall.
Below, the palace attendant bowed deeply as the butler accepted the envelope.
The carriage remained only a mont longer before turning elegantly and disappearing back through the gates.
And then... everywhere was quiet again.
Rosaline exhaled slowly.
She turned toward her chamber.
But before she reached the door, she heard footsteps behind her.
asured.
Polite.
She turned.
The butler stood at the end of the corridor, his hands folded behind his back.
He bowed.
"Your Grace."
Rosaline folded her arms. "What is it?"
"There has been a royal invitation."
"I gathered that."
"It is addressed to you."
That caught her attention.
"To ?"
"Yes."
He stepped forward and extended the envelope.
It was heavier than she expected when she took it.
Cream-colored parchnt.
Gold-trimd edges.
The royal wax seal pressed firmly at the center.
Rosaline turned it over once in her hands.
"For what?"
"A royal gathering."
"A ball?"
"No."
That surprised her.
The butler inclined his head slightly.
"A private evening reception hosted by the royal household."
Rosaline frowned.
"And why," she asked slowly, "would they invite ?"
The butler chose his words carefully.
"You are the Duchess of Dagon."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one I have."
Rosaline stared at the envelope.
She already knew what this ant.
The Emperor was dead.
Politics were shifting.
Everyone in the palace wanted to see the woman who had suddenly beco Xandros’s wife.
To study her.
Judge her.
Perhaps even test her and see who her husband was with through her.
The thought made her stomach tighten.
She broke the wax seal.
Unfolded the letter.
The handwriting was elegant.
Formal.
Cold.
Her Grace, Duchess Rosaline of Dagon, is hereby summoned to attend an evening reception at the royal palace the next night.
Rosaline stopped reading.
Her brows pulled together.
"Summoned?"
The word tasted unpleasant.
Not invited.
Summoned.
She looked up at the butler.
"Is attendance expected?"
"Yes."
"Mandatory?"
A pause.
"Politically... advisable."
Rosaline let out a short laugh.
"That ans yes."
"Yes, Your Grace."
She turned away and walked toward the window inside her chamber.
The letter remained in her hand.
Outside, the gardens swayed in the wind.
Still no sign of Xandros.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
If she went...
she would face the royal court alone.
No Xandros beside her.
No cold gray stare to frighten away anyone who wished her harm.
Just her.
And that should not have bothered her.
She had survived worse.
Hadn’t she?
But it did bother her.
Because sowhere in the strange, tangled ss of the last weeks...
she had started relying on him.
And that realization unsettled her more than the invitation itself.
Behind her, the butler waited patiently.
Rosaline turned slightly.
"Do you think I should go?"
The question surprised even her.
The butler looked genuinely thoughtful before answering.
"I believe His Grace would want you safe."
She frowned.
"That is not what I asked."
"No."
"It isn’t."
He bowed again.
"But it is my answer."
Rosaline looked away.
Typical.
Even absent, Xandros was sohow still controlling the room.
She moved toward the armchair near the fire and sat slowly, the invitation resting in her lap.
The flas crackled softly.
The room felt too large.
Too quiet.
If she refused...
it would send a ssage.
Possibly the wrong one.
If she accepted...
she stepped into a political storm without warning or guidance.
Her thumb brushed absentmindedly over the royal seal.
Then she looked back toward the window.
Toward the empty gates.
And for the first ti since the carriage had left...
she truly began to wonder...
whether she would go at all.
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