Chapter 10
Roland stood at the gates of Rosewing Court, a warm parcel of candied almonds in hand. The parchment bag was damp with steam, the sweet scent clinging to the air like a promise.
He pressed a palm to his chest, where her name was still etched–Cecily, carved in pain. The wounds had not yet healed; they throbbed with every breath.
But it wasn’t the pain that disturbed him–it was the thrum beneath it, the wild rhythm of his heart, as if something inside him were unraveling.
He furrowed his brows, brushing the unease aside. It must be excitement, he told himself. After all, he was about to see her.
He stepped through the courtyard gate just as Lord Baldwin Viremont was speaking in low, urgent tones. Cecily stood with her back to Roland, her shoulders trembling with fury.
“One million gold crowns? Father, have you lost your mind?!”
Baldwin’s voice dropped further. “We must live to fight another day, sweet girl. I had no choice. The Wolvestons demand a bride. I couldn’t send you— this was the only way. Eleanor agreed… but her price was steep. Think carefully: would you rather be sent to a sickbed or accept this sum?”
Cecily bit her lip hard, her voice sour with resentment. “Of course I won’t marry him! That heir’s half–dead already–what would that make me, a living widow? Besides, the prince has his eyes on me now…”
She turned mid–sentence, catching sight of Roland.
In a flash, her anger melted into a sugary smile. “Roland, you’re here!”
He hadn’t heard what was said before. Only her voice now, warm and bright.
“Here.” He offered a soft hum and held out the warm parcel. “They’re best hot.”
Cecily took it, her fingers brushing his palm, eyes twinkling. “Still warm. Just how I like it.”
He smiled faintly, “As long as it pleases you, my lady.”
He should’ve been glad.
But the strange, gnawing sensation in his chest only worsened. It felt like something inside him was slipping beyond his grasp.
He hesitated, then said, “I’ve delivered the gift. I’ll take my leave now.”
She caught his sleeve. “No need to go.”
Roland paused. “What do you mean?”
Cecily blinked innocently. “Didn’t Eleanor tell you? She’s assigned you to my service.”
His mind went blank.
Cecily’s service?
She leaned in conspiratorially. “She traded you, Roland. Took the Wolvestons‘ offer. She’s gone west–to Westinarch. Married Lord Edmund for that one million.”
The breath caught in his lungs.
Married?
To Lord Edmund Wolveston?
That crippled heir who once outshone all in Crownspire, now a dying shadow?
Suddenly, the words Eleanor had spoken that morning–moving house–took on their true weight.
Not a change of residence. A farewell
His mind reeled. Unbidden, it conjured the memory of the first time he saw her three years ago, when the Virements were selecting personal guards.
He’d come for Cecily
But the one who did the choosing was Eleanor.
He had planned to leave. But then, she looked at him–poised, radiant in her Gold–Threaded Peony Gown, with the sun lighting her like fire–and said: “That one,” she pointed at him with a sly sinile. “He’s pretty enough”
Chapter 10
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He stayed. Told himself he could still be near Cecily this way.
And yet, it was Eleanor who toyed with him in her brash, awkward ways.
She’d fake a twisted ankle to fall into his arms, only to sneeze violently from her overdone perfume.
She’d knock on his door in the dead of night in nothing but sheer linen, stammering, “Would you like to come do–do–I mean, sit–sit…”
She once even pretended to drown, and when he jumped into the lake to save her, he nearly drowned himself–she couldn’t swim at all.
Roland swallowed hard.
A woman like her… proud, untamed… and she had sold herself for gold?
His chest clenched, sharp and sudden, like steel slicing through flesh.
Cecily tugged his sleeve again. “Don’t you want to stay with me, Roland?”
He blinked, forced himself to breathe.
“No,” he said quietly. Then, louder, “It would be an honor to protect you, my lady.”
But even as the words left his lips, all he could see was Eleanor’s final gaze. Calm. Detached. As if she no longer recognized him.
“Wonderful!” Cecily beamed, clutching his arm. “Let’s go shopping–I saw the most darling rose–hued gown at Jewel Hall!”
Roland followed numbly.
This was what he’d always wanted: to walk beside Cecily in the open, no longer hiding behind his role as Eleanor’s guard.
And Eleanor?
She had always been cruel to Cecily.
Now she was gone.
Maybe it was for the best.
Chapter 10
