"Step back, Emerson–" Lord Kaldric stepped forward, his features twisted into an inscrutable agitation that, for a heartbeat, was visible through the tremble in his hand.
"You have a coup to handle, Kaldric. Focus on that. The lady stays with me." Earl Emerson declared, guiding me how to press the handkerchief to stop the bleeding and led me inside to tend to it, leaving Lord Kaldric to the mess.
Eventually, the coup had been crushed with the same brutal efficiency that Lord Kaldric applied to everything in his life. He poured his wrath into his weapon to eviscerate the rebels.
The remaining rebels were dragged to the courtyard for immediate execution, their pleas for mercy ignored by the King's guard.
Earl Emerson, his coat miraculously unstained, escorted me down the stairs to the Great Hall with a grace that felt like a protective shield. He didn't leave my side for a moment.
Yet, in his shadows, I found my eyes trailing towards the man in blood.
At the far end of the hall, King Alaric stood upon the dais, delivering a booming, righteous speech about the strength of the Crown and the price of treachery. It was a performance designed to instill fear and loyalty.
"A true brute, is he not?" Emerson murmured, folding his arms at chest and blocked my view when he found me staring at Lord Kaldric who seemed to be hissing in pain constantly.
"For a position of his level, this is the requirement, My Lord," I replied innocently.
"Oh? Defending the man who considered you a casualty?"
"He is the Commander of the Obsidian Pillars. What else is above it?" I repeated the words that still ring in my mind, looking down at the blood on my green skirts.
An empty smile came to my lips, "I, the outsider, am aware of it. Are you not?"
"His actions were cruel. The situation could have been handled with... more finesse."
"Finesse would have downgraded him from the position he earned through blood and sweat." I looked Emerson in the eye, my features hardening.
He arched an eyebrow, almost teasingly, "Are you saying you would present your head to the blade again if the situation arose?"
"Yes." I responded without thinking twice.
"You–" Earl Emerson twitched.
He blinked, taken aback at the sheer honesty in my tone. He disliked the unwavering loyalty and stepped back, releasing my view.
He walked towards the balustrades, hearing the King's speech briefly.
From several paces away, Earl Emerson let out a long, theatrical yawn that broke the tension of the moment.
"Boring. Both the speech and you," he murmured, more to me than the speech before letting out a smirk.
"If you find my loyalty boring there is nothing I can do about it. I simply cannot speak ill of the man who had draped me in his name and cloth." I replied, my eyes locked on Lord Kaldric, having no idea from where I earned such an in-depth devotion.
"Tell me when you won't. I will guide you to a different path."
"You think such a day will arrive?" I asked, intrigued, glancing at him.
"It does. It always does."
He caught my eye and gave a small, knowing tilt of his head before melting back into the shadows of the court, not even letting me reply.
Then, there was only silence.
A heavy, suffocating distance stretched between me and the man standing ten feet away.
Lord Kaldric was a ruin of black steel. His armor was caked in dried blood, his breathing heavy and ragged, an evidence of his work that was no less than a butcher's.
He turned, approaching me, his silver eyes latched to my face. My steps unwillingly retreated in dread of confronting another heartbreaking interaction.
"I-I… did not call him," The first thing that escaped my lips was a whimper of pure fear.
He stopped. For the first time, I saw a glimpse of hesitation in his immovable gaze. His hand reached out, his fingers twitching, they hovered at the line on my throat before leading to my shoulder, still in the air, struggling between both.
His lips parted, a rasping sound forming in his throat as he tried to speak.
"Ardelle, I—"
"You have only room for the King's law in your chest, My Lord," I cut him off, my voice steady despite the way my soul was weeping.
I didn't want to hear an apology that would only be retracted by morning. I didn't want a 'duty-bound' explanation for why he was willing to let me die.
I forced a smile though it was a disappointing one. My fingers were gripping my dress helplessly.
"I know," I whispered, voice breaking which I endeavoured to resist by biting the inside of my cheek or by widening my smile.
"I expected this. You told me from the start. I was prepared. I have nothing to say between your duty. That is the only thing that matters to you."
He frowned. The words he had intended to say seemed to die behind his teeth. The hand, the struggle for unwilling mercy, died. He curled it into a fist, dragging it back.
"I am already grateful. You have given me a roof over my head, given me food, my life is yours, My Lord." I continued, shifting towards the King only to find him blocking my view.
His tall form, uneven breath, and frustrated expression crystal-clear from up close.
"Stop," he growled, taking another step into my space. The scent of iron and sweat rolled off him. I looked up at him, blinking in confusion.
"Do not speak to me like you are a servant, Ardelle."
"I know I am not."
My smile grew painful, the hefty realisation of my position carved deeply into my core already. Unknowingly reaching my hand to wipe the stain of blood on his cheekbone, stifling him.
"I am a burden.'
His faltered, brows knitting with discontent before he decided to not show it. To him, it must be pointless.
He contemplated my smile, the quivering of it, then at the blood staining the forest-green wool of the dress he had bought for me, the dress for what he stayed behind.
He didn't argue. He didn't try to explain the agony of a Knight's vow either. He simply gave a sharp, curt nod, his face hardening back into a mask of indifferent stone.
He turned on his heel and walked away, his heavy boots echoing against the marble.
He walked as if he didn't care. He walked as if I were already a memory.
I watched his retreating back, my smile remaining fixed even as my heart was crumbling into the dirt beneath his heels.
'I know,' I thought, the warmth of the fox fur around my neck feeling like a mockery.
I know who you are. I know what I am to you.
But for a second... just for a single heartbeat when I realized you guarded my tent... I had wished for more.
Later, the aftermath of the coup was not a time for mourning, but for a display of opulence, of the victory that served as a slap of humiliation on the face of the rebels.
The Duke threw a victory gala that minimized the previous feast– a sea of gold, laughter, and the forced gaiety of those who had survived the slaughter.
He distributed food and clothing to his whole town.
I remained in the corner of the Great Hall, still in the blood stained green wool. Noticing the women that were guided to shelter were unharmed.
"How frightening it was. The sound was terrifying."
"Indeed. But, we are glad to have such warriors."
"They are our protectors."
My chest constricted with an unknown pain upon hearing the word 'protector'. My gaze narrowed, hugging myself tighter.
I stayed in the deepest shadows, my back pressed against the cold masonry. I was a 'casualty,' after all. And casualties were meant to be forgotten.
"My Lady, the music is far too fine for you to be whispering to stone walls."
Sir Aldwin appeared, his face scrubbed clean of the battlefield's grime, though his eyes still held a weary shadow.
He offered a hand, a warm, genuine smile playing on his lips.
"The King is in a rare mood. He has been asking after the Commander's 'ethereal' bride. Come out and show them you are actually alive."
I tightened my grip on my skirts, my heart hammering. Despite the dejection, I found myself following Lord Kaldric's words and shook my head in denial.
"No, Sir Aldwin. I... I should stay here. Lord Kaldric's words were quite clear. I am not to be a spectacle."
"Kaldric says many things when the blood-lust is on him," Aldwin sighed, his hand dropping. He looked at me with a mix of pity and frustration.
"He is a man of stone, Lady Ardelle. But he is also human. Even if he tries his best to hide it. They speak what they don't mean."
"I am content in the dark," I whispered. It was a lie, but a safe one.
"If that is the case, if you won't dance, perhaps you can do me a favor." Sir Aldwin looked around the room, his brow furrowing.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"The Commander has been missing for an hour. He refused the healers, as his stubborn custom, and retreated to the west tower. He hasn't eaten or drunk a drop since the fighting ended."
He handed me a silver tray with a goblet of dark, heavy wine.
"At least bring him this. He might snap at me, but he won't snap at you." He would do much worse.
I wanted to refuse. I wanted to stay in my safe, dark corner. away from them, from him, from everything.
But the memory of the blood I had wiped from his cheekbone earlier moved my feet while wondering which scolding or insult he would throw on my face this time.