She'd argued with the king the morning after the ball. He'd called it a betrayal, engaging not only to his thorn, but behind his back without his permission. She'd called it a calculated decision that'll not only signal unity, but also undercut his "thorn's" attempting to gain allies through marriage to a different lord—with her, there was no worry of that, he gained nothing.
Well, he must be gaining something, King Alestan roared.
He thinks he's winning by linking with the crown's loyalist, she refuted. It's a show, and what little access marrying me gains, he'll soon learn that the south is a different ground—one he won't turn.
The king was afraid—Rhosyn was not. His eyes narrowed, as if testing her will, trying to identify any worry on her face—there wasn't any.
King Alestan was a bold man, but one who saw wealth and power as the highest of bartering commodities. Which sometimes made him easy to anticipate and make deals with.
All she had to do was explain that the revisions of her marriage clause opened possibilities for renegotiations on the receivership of her land, the Duchy of Ravelocke. Originally, she had been waiting on her marriage to regain ownership, via husband, of her uncle's land. But neither she nor the king wanted Duke Karsyn to gain more land, let alone the two most strategic territories of the kingdom.
She suggested that the king retain receivership until she has heirs. Legally, succession of the kingdom was male preferred primogeniture; meaning only the eldest male heir would inherit all titles.
Rhosyn suggested changing the law of succession for the Duchy of Ravelocke to male preferred partition. This would treat Ravelocke as the secondary title and if she had two children, the two duchies would be split between them respectfully.
In the meantime, the king looks after the title until an heir is born.
It was risky, but it was the only thing that'll bring the king to the table. If he wanted wealth and power, Ravelocke would give it to him.
It had almost been a week since then and already eight revisions of her Marriage Clause. She wasn't well rehearsed in making deals that directly impacted her. The wording alone on these documents all but looked foreign to her, legal terms and mind numbing formatting that made the saints days sermons sound riveting.
Rhosyn had all but moved into her uncle's old office. It was the perfect space to read through Ravelocke's finance ledgers, receive couriers from the king—which happened frequently. But if she was being honest, it reminded her of Edrien. He'd not visited her since the engagement announcement, his spot at the desk left empty and she missed him.
A soft knock on the door pulled her tired eyes from a page of numbers that looked more like blotted blobs than patterns.
"My Lady, a letter from the king," the messenger bowed, his chest bearing the crest of the royal palace—make that nine times now.
He handed over the sealed parchment and stood waiting a few steps away. Rhosyn eyed him up, fingers searching to break the seal.
"I'm to wait for a reply and return with it, My Lady."
Clearly the king was getting as restless as she was with the back and forth. Unravelling the large parchment, Rhosyn realised it was a finalised Marriage Clause Agreement. Apparently the worth of her choice was weighed in the rights to toll exemption, an upped tithe of 2% or an additional five hundred gold a year—whatever was worth more—and the receivership of her land to be held until an appropriate heir was born, male only, second born.
It was a long time coming, but after days of endless disagreement, it looked as if the king finally agreed. The legal language dragged tirelessly at her, with a headache and the promise of one problem resolved, she scribbled her name at the bottom of the document alongside King Alestan's.
Rhosyn wrapped it up and handed it off to the messenger, who was already rushing out the door. But whatever little peace she'd gained was lost when Master Oswin tapped at the door.
"My Lady, the Duke of—"
"No, Oswin, tell him I'm busy," Rhosyn swiftly cut him off, tidying her desk before standing.
Duke Karsyn had called around three times this week alone, whatever he wanted, she didn't know—nor did she care to know.
"But, My Lady…" Oswin stuttered, words failing him in his nervous fret.
But Rhosyn wasn't paying him attention as she pulled on her shawl and started for the door. Where the duke stood next to Oswin, towering over the old man and intimidating him despite the charming smile on Karsyn's face.
"You're dismissed Oswin," she didn't miss a step as she closed the space between them. "And you, Your Grace, are also dismissed."
Karsyn laughed as she passed him, leaving the room and moving with purpose.
"You've been avoiding me, My Lady," he called after her, his steps catching up with her.
"I'm glad you noticed," she threw over her shoulder, indifferent.
A hand caught hers and she was pulled back into his chest, held there by a gentle hand on her back. She caught the half-step advance from Caerwyn, seeing contact as a threat and she gave him the slightest shake of her head to signal him to stand down, Karsyn watching her just as closely.
"You seem to forget that everyone talks, My Lady," he said, hushed into the tight space between them.
"Well, they can talk about how the king has blessed our union," she replied, her original hostility still held in her gaze and tone.
Surprise pulled up at the duke's eyebrows, interest piqued and amusement gleaming in his eyes. He didn't think she'd be able to achieve it. That, or he figured she'd back out—still can.
"So, you are officially my betrothed." He leaned in slightly, shrinking the already limited space between them.
Rhosyn could feel herself instinctively retreat, but her gaze remained level. "Disappointed?"
She pushed against his chest and his hand fell away, allowing her to turn and continue walking.
"Pleasantly surprised," Karsyn answered, falling into step.
She hummed humourlessly. What was there to be pleasant about, he wanted the engagement to fall through. A Royalist wife was not the goal he bartered for. He figured the king would dissolve the engagement and he'd gain a Vow of Loyalty along with her uncle's secrets—and maybe a little unrest.
"Dangerous," he muttered quietly. When her eyes flashed to him, he elaborated. "You're thinking—it's dangerous."
"Oh, really? And why would you say that?"
"Fishing for compliments?"
"Fishing for thoughts."
"Fine, I'll play," he replied. "When I released 'The Ledgers of Partiality,' you didn't fold. In fact, you did something I didn't expect anyone to do—you fought back, and won." His eyes watched her, but she paid him little attention. "You adopted my 'Common Charter' idea and sold it as a crown inspired movement."
"That was Edrien," she corrected.
"But it was your idea—he would've never made that move if you hadn't recommended it." Karsyn rebutted. "And most curious of all, you dealt with your adversary—even proposing marriage—and all for the Crown Prince."
He irked something inside her and she hated the way it itched. Even when complimenting her it sounded like mockery.
"When you want something, you get it—so I'm surprised that you worked so hard to get the engagement approved," he explained and she rounded on him. But no words came to her lips, just an explosive anger that she huffed to release.
Karsyn looked all too entertained watching her battle herself, which only irritated her further. Rhosyn turned away from his smug face, eyeing up the prepared carriage with new annoyance. Town wasn't far, but apparently even that short ride needed walls.