Leoric had finally buttoned a shirt and threw on a jacket. Rhosyn could finally breathe—without her mind drifting to all the places her hands wanted to go.
She found something suitable too. Kaly had returned with a dress and brush, clearly seeing her predicament and saving her from Elin's teasing mouth. Though Rhosyn knew she'd never hear the end of it later... Elin had only stopped giggling about the last time.
Surprisingly, Leoric helped her lace her dress. The action was startlingly different from removing fabric, and somehow it was sweet and intimate in a new way. His fingers brushing her spine. His breath tickled the nape of her neck. It was quiet and deliberate, and it stirred uneasily inside her.
His room looked different in the light. Tidy, with objects purposely bestrewed upon surfaces in a haphazard fashion. It reminded her of the lounge with its number of unknown stories in the form of trinkets.
Rhosyn lost herself in a particular obscurity—something that felt familiar. It was a dull, dark, sharp stone. No bigger than her palm and yet it was brutal in its simplicity. She contemplated why anyone would want such a curious item and figured there must be a story there she didn't know.
Hands slipped around her waist, a body pressed against her back and his face appeared over her shoulder. "Dangerous," he whispered, lips coy and fingers playing circles at her stomach.
Rhosyn arched a brow in question.
"You're thinking—it's dangerous," he answered, a soft chuckle vibrating in the back of his throat.
Then she was contemplating his lips again. Remembering the feel of his voice under her tongue. The feel of his hands—
His brows rose as if tracking her thoughts and she hoped he wasn't.
"That dangerous?" he teased and she shot him a look.
"Fishing?" she challenged, almost already regretting the words.
"Only when it's your thoughts," he murmured, gaze scanning her face as if trying to work out what was going on inside her head. "You are always so...fascinating."
Breath hitched. Heart stuttered. And she knew he read it all. Like she was a book and he studied her every line, catching every missing word.
Rhosyn swallowed, trying to compose herself and forgetting how she used to do it.
"Let's go." Leoric pulled away easily, fingers lacing with hers and guided her out of his room.
Sconces burned brighter, colouring the floral wallpaper warm. The corridors were more lively, activity a constant movement as staff went about their tasks. Rhosyn bristled, catching a few curious glances, but none lingered. Leoric's hand squeezed hers in silent reassurance and he knew she wanted to pick at her fingers for her anxiety.
She'd noticed that the wine glasses they'd forgotten last night had been cleaned up—likely by Kaly. The hint of an aroma, sweet in the air and burning in the back of Rhosyn's throat.
Caerwyn was unsurprisingly waiting nearby, standing guard as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred.
"Morning, Sir Caerwyn," Leoric greeted casually, as they passed him.
"Good morning, Your Graces," Caerwyn replied, straightening, before falling into step behind them.
Rhosyn had worried he'd gone into panic-mode searching for her this morning. From the look on his face, he'd known where she was and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or resentful.
She was just happy he didn't barge into the room—
"Ready?"
Leoric pulled her from her mind and she was thankful. Only for her to be staring at the doors to his office and a strange nervousness clawing inside her. Rhosyn's mind went to terribly crafted locations of potential relationships he could have and suddenly she wasn't sure about honesty. Not when it threatened to rip something out of her.
Her chest gripped. "Yes," she said, and it sounded anything but.
"That's a 'no,'" Caerwyn interjected and Rhosyn fixed him a look.
"Rhosyn," Leoric murmured, softly, calling her attention back to him. "It's alright—trust me."
That was the problem. Somewhere along the way, she found herself doing just that.
He opened the door and she followed him in, almost clinging to his arm. The room stood as she remembered it; tall bookcases hugging the walls all the way around, only giving way to a tiled fireplace on one side. A large carpet dominated the beautiful herringbone wooden floor, pretty and wearing from foot traffic. Sofas greeted them first, surrounding a low table, before the large desk at the far wall. Leoric's desk.
Except, the man who leisurely sat at it wasn't him.
The man noticed them enter, sharp, bright grey eyes smiling at them, and Rhosyn found she recognised him. The man she'd nearly bumped into only days ago in the corridor.
Leoric watched her cautiously, as the man behind the desk stood and started around it.
"The happily married couple." He grinned, as if he was enjoying himself—like he knew a secret and revelled in it.
Leoric tried to resist a smile. "Rhosyn, this is Valric," he introduced the man who came to a stop leaning back against the desk casually.
He was smug and oddly familiar. Then her mind snagged on a thought and her eyes turned up at Leoric as he hesitated on his next words.
"He's my brother."
For a quiet moment, she blinked.
House Karsyn was all but murdered, barring one. Leoric. Everyone knew the story more or less—surprisingly closer to the truth than they'd realise. But, if Valric was his brother, that meant more survived.
Rhosyn took in Valric with new eyes. Catching on the similar shaped nose, the terribly same quirk of lips and winter eyes. But there were obvious differences too. Valric had dark brown hair, almost black. His eyebrows shaped slightly more curved, and the angle of his jaw sharper.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for her reaction. As if for once Leoric couldn't read her, or didn't want to risk reading her wrong.
"A secret brother I can accept," she found the words tumbling out of her mouth and realised how true they were. A moment ago she was worried he'd introduce her to a family member much closer...
Valric burst into a cheery laugh, pushing off the surface behind him and confidently striding toward them. The action startled her, echoing a familiar movement she was used to, but couldn't place.
"What did I say, brother?" Valric gripped Leoric's shoulder, in a brotherly gesture.
"You say a lot of things and not all of them should be repeated," Leoric easily replied, a new serenity settled over him and his lips curled in a different way.
Rhosyn liked watching the two together. They fitted back into a rhythm that they held. A playful tune that they adorned with their laughter.
Then Valric's attention turned to her. His eyes didn't cut through her like Leoric's, didn't catch on the little twitches spelling out her thoughts.
"Questions?" he asked simply, that grin still plastered to his face.
"Too many."
"Perfect," Valric exclaimed, he glanced back at the desk piled with papers. "Maybe we can work some out together."
Rhosyn took a step forward, eyes catching on the handwriting on several pages and she could already hear his voice—Uncle Halvar.
"Old Halvar here has hidden his secrets well," he continued explaining, Leoric watching quietly. "That, or the old man liked random expressions..."
Valric's voice trailed off as Rhosyn stepped closer to the jumble of papers. Words became legible. Uncle Halvar's voice, louder.
Remember, my River Rose, there's always truth. You just need to know where to look, her uncle had said in that ominous way of his, tapping a word on the page.
One letter stood out amongst the clutter and she turned it in her direction. It was to Lord Beric Aldermere, the now ancient man, count of Alderwyck. Uncle Halvar used to joke to her that the man was his 'second.' As if he had an army and Aldermere was his second in command.
It was a letter that either never was sent, or Uncle Halvar kept a copy. For what reason—Rhosyn didn't know.
My Lord Beric Aldermere, the north is already breaking—witnesses say it, sworn by their law, another issue matter for the crown. Under advice, safe guard your family: the smallest misstep, could spell guilt to a crime as obscure as smoke.
Rumoursattract vultures, and it's the last thing we need. Drunk nobles whispering the damnedest things: some being rather dangerous. Especially in hands, bloodied and awful, tainting dynasties' names. Remember, as attractive as it might be to procure our own, -it- we shouldn't lie. Everyone talks, Beric. Remain undeterred and grateful that it was all 5-19 days ago.
—H. Valewyn
Rhosyn remembered sitting next to her uncle, watching him struggle for words as he wrote his latest letter. She never understood until she saw the complexity of it laid out in front of her. He wrote unrefined and careless. Not the man she remembered.
"See what I mean?" Valric hunkered close, peering over the large desk between them. "The only hint of a message I got out of that one was; 'Crown, dangerous lie.'" He huffed, as if it was ludicrous to try to attempt to hide a message in the thick layering of ink.
He wasn't wrong though. Crown, dangerous lie. They stood out and they made sense.
Though Rhosyn never stopped scanning the letters. Studying the awkward phrasing of some sentences that were easily overlooked. The poor grammar in separating the word 'safeguard.' Then there was the terrible mistake he'd crossed out...
I never make mistakes, his voice rippled inside her head and she was chasing the whispers he hid within the letter. It was so obvious it held something.
"What—"
Leoric shushed Valric and she could feel Leoric close behind her now. His breath on her neck as he read the piece of paper. But she tried to ignore his persistent presence, nagging at her to notice.
Ciphers.
What was it that Uncle Halvar said about ciphers that one time... Rhosyn wracked her brain, sure she had the answer. Knowing it was there—stuck behind fog and drowned out by white-noise.
Numbers never lie...
He's my second...
I never make mistakes.
"No," she breathed disbelievingly, the word slipping from her lips as she stared anew at the disarray scatter in front of her.
It was perfect—and she couldn't help the smile that slipped onto her lips.
"Can I have a pen and paper?" Rhosyn asked, eyes never leaving parchment.
The tools were handed to her by either or both the brothers, she wasn't sure. Then she was scribbling what her eyes couldn't unsee. She started with Uncle Halvar's take on a messy acrostic puzzle—writing the first letter of each new sentence in order: Murderer.
Valric leant closer, his seemingly usual fixed grin widening as she wrote. He opened his mouth as if to say something witty, but Rhosyn wasn't done. The pen scratched a little too eager against the paper as she hurried to catch the ideas that shifted into place.
Aldermere was Uncle Halvar's second. That was the clue Uncle Halvar was giving her—second. These letters weren't written to the recipient. They were written to her. The recipient was part of the cipher.
Uncle Halvar hated writing in cursive. She remembered him complaining about the winding way the letters lent into each other. Something his father had forced him to learn. What he preferred, was writing like a 'commoner,' as her uncle would say.
So, taking the second letter of each common hand word, she started to spell out Uncle Halvar's message.
'Witnesses' gave her an 'i', then she got the word 'it'.
She continued to run her finger along the lines, pausing to write the next letter, before repeating the actions. It explained why he kept the superficial mistake of 'safe guard', needing the second letter of 'guard' for the message. The crossed out 'it' near the bottom was another common hand word Uncle Halvar used.
After scanning the letter thoroughly to the point the words slid together and her eyes hurt, she had her message: 'It was a rumour. But there's always truth in tales.'
Valric whistled, seemingly impressed.
A touch brushed against the back of her hand and Rhosyn's gaze rose to Leoric's. Light greys dancing in his eyes, a hint of a smile colouring them brighter. It sent a peculiar feeling tumbling in her stomach and her head spun. Something felt amiss. She took a deep breath and willed it down.
He frowned, reading the unease, a concerned stroke of his thumb. But she shook her head and offered him a small smile, she didn't quite feel.
For some reason, and it could all have something to do with last night, but she felt fatigued. Like she could curl back up in Leoric's arms and go back to sleep. Noon felt too early.
"So, the old wizard used a combination of ciphers—clever," Valric's voice pulled them back to the table of letters as he sieved through them. "And the code breaker was none other than his niece... I'm impressed, old Halvar."
He smirked in a satisfied way and Rhosyn wondered how much the brothers truly despised the man who ordered the murder of their family. The way Valric spoke about her uncle didn't feel disrespectful. If anything, it felt the opposite. He was complimenting the man in earnest.