The shafts of light that kept the room alit slowly dimmed. The room becomes cold, and all Amalia could see are shadows moving in the dark.
A lamp is lit, the smell of candles starting to linger in the air. Amalia stares at the woman in front of her. Her gray eyes are full of determination, but Amalia doesn't know why she seems desperate.
"What do you want?" Amalia asks. The woman leans in, the distance between them vanishing.
"Help us," she says as she caresses Amelia's face, her voice like soft wind against her ear. "You are the only one who can..."
The dark room moves into a nauseating spiral and suddenly, she is out in a field full of lavender. There is a familiar two-story building by the end of it. She cranes her neck, thinking for a moment how she got to her mother's school, but then smiles when she decides to walk towards it.
A young lady approaches, golden eyes glimmering in the sun. She smiles at Amalia as if she knows her too well.
"Duchess," she greets with a clumsy curtsy before running and hugging her. Amalia catches her before she could stumble. "How I missed you, Duchess!"
"You've grown a lot," she hears herself say. "How is school, Beryl?"
"Good!" she says cheerily, "but you must wake up."
"What?" she asks. Beryl's smile widens.
"Wake up now," she repeats, her voice contorting into something deeper and more mature. Amalia only stares, but she jolts when Beryl touches her.
Jane is staring at her when she comes to. "Are you alright, my lady?" she asks and wipes the sweat off of her forehead. "You must have a terrible dream."
"I…" it isn't really a terrible dream, but she fails to tell Jane. "Why were you waking me?"
Amalia looks over at the window. The sun is yet to rise, but Jane is already in her garments for the day. She squints, urging Jane to reply.
"The duke expects you'll be with him for the day, Your Grace," Jane answers. "He said you agreed to this invitation."
She couldn't think of any instance where she said yes to any of his invites, nor he ever told her about one. She tries to think of all the instances they talked about, but cannot think of anything.
"I did?"
"Yes, well… unless His Grace was lying."
He might be, she thinks as she frowns. She will have to settle it with Henrick later. For now, she will need to be safe.
"Go to Damien after this and tell him I need him to follow us. Discreetly."
"What about the bath?"
"I can do it myself."
Jane hesitates for a moment, but nods in the end. "Then I shall head out now, Your Grace."
She decided she'd have her word at breakfast, but it was all thrown away when she saw him smile. Now she remembered all that happened last night.
Accepting her fate, she sits across from her and starts playing with her food. If she is to be with Henrick the whole day, then she'll have to starve the whole day.
"Are you not hungry?" Henrick asks after a minute. Amalia looks at him, her lips forming a lie when suddenly her stomach growls. Sighing, she looks at the duke who obviously heard the rumbling. Her cheeks flush, but Henrick turns back to his plate as if nothing happened. "You should eat something. Our day might be long."
Now, without any excuses, Amalia slowly takes a bite and then waits for the poison to take effect. Nothing happens. Her breathing is still steady after some minutes, and the food is delicious, so she makes sure to try every food on the table.
"Where are we going?" She cuts a piece of chicken on her plate and savors its tenderness.
"We will only visit Eule and some villages. I just need to talk about something to the knights before we do. It won't take a while, so you can wait for me in the carriage."
"Can I come with you?" Amalia asks. Henrick might not let her, as her coming will be a breach of his army's confidentiality, so is sure she will have to somehow force him.
It has been a week, but this will be the first time the duke will be visiting the training grounds. Amalia herself seldom goes to the training grounds, but that is because she is no person of military.
But since there were knights under her during those three years without a lord, she needed a hint on why they were left behind. Is it true that the duke trusts them like the ones he chose to be with in the south? Or was it all pretense and there is actually a crack within Adendiff military? If it is the latter, then Amalia might benefit from it later on.
"Of course," he replies immediately, his eyes bright like rays of the sun. Amalia, surprised, blinks.
"Are you sure?" she asks. Henrick takes another glance at her before cutting his food.
"It is not as if there is a place in Adendiff where you are forbidden," he says nonchalantly. Amalia stares for another second before looking down at her plate.
It is true that Amalia is free to be wherever she wants, and she is thankful that it is because of this freedom that she was easily settled as the duchess, but somehow, it is also wrong. It is as if the duke wants her to settle in nicely so she would never think of divorce.
Well, the duke cannot dictate your thoughts, Amalia scolds herself. Straightening her back, she resumes eating.
They both walk out of the hall to the grounds once they are done. Henrick offers her a hand, and then an arm, to which all Amalia hesitantly accepts.
Henrick's most trusted knights, Sir Carlan and Sir Timothy, were in the grounds when the couple arrived. While Sir Carlan has dark hair and squared southern face like her brother Alexei, Sir Timothy has long, blond hair and pale blue eyes and his face has these soft edges, like snowflakes.
Sir Carlan first greets her with a bow. Amalia awkwardly asks about his day and Sir Carlan shortly replies that there have been no problems as of late.
"Your Grace," Sir Timothy greets Amalia and curtly bows. Within those three years that she spent in the castle, sir Timothy was with her and served as her shield. Still, like any other knight, she has yet to trust him.
"I haven't seen you in a while, Sir Timothy," Amalia smiles at him. Timothy's smile is strained, his eyes unfocused, glancing at Henrick and then back at her.
"Yes, Your Grace. It definitely has been," he says, his voice soft and awkward like a teenage boy, far from the Timothy with a clear and upbeat voice in her memory. It may be because of the duke's presence, Amalia noted, so she paid the change no mind. "My mother wants to send her regards, as always."
His mother is a chief in one of the villages in Frealwood that is nearest the east watchtower. Amalia had met her when she was in Frealwood after her brother's sight about the threat of the Free Tribes, with the pretense of checking in with the borders. They met a few times more when the forces from Crane were stationed there.
"Please tell Lady Rolphe that I am well. I hope that she also is."
"Oh, she is awfully well, she can kick me in the ass if she so wants." Amalia imagines how the skinny older woman with a back problem would kick her knight son bigger than her, and laughs at the thought. She could continue that amusing conversation if not for her stern husband.
"My lady, will you wait for me here? I will have to talk to Carlan and Timothy in private," the duke says, and there is finality in his voice. Amalia nods her agreement and smiles her goodbye at the men, letting them walk a distance. Well, too much for freedom, she thinks.
While hearing their exchange would be a great help for her, she understands the duke for not letting her hear them. It settles her in a strange way, even. This is how Amalia expects Henrick to act around her. She did nothing to earn his trust, anyway.
Instead of wallowing, she watches them with a discerning eye as they talk about things that she isn't trusted to hear while smiling and nodding at some knights that pass by her.
Based on the way they interact, it seems that Timothy really trusts His Grace. The young captain must have put his trust in her too as the lady of the house and protector of Adendiff for three years, but the way he looks at Henrick is something more—like some fanatic who looks up to their god in adoration.
Maybe it comes with age, as Sir Timothy way is younger than Sir Carlan, but Sir Carlan doesn't show any kind of emotion as the duke pats his back. But then, Amalia notes how Sir Carlan receives the pat like it is the most natural thing in the world.
Now Sir Timothy remains, and there is something that looms over his face. A threat. He opens his mouth to say something, and then the duke retorts. A mission. Sir Timothy nods.
Amalia gulps. Seeing both the knights, she is just thankful that she followed her guts and asked for Damien as guard.
"I trust you would do as you have been commanded," Amalia hears Henrick tell the knight as she sees him walk towards her. "Shall we go now, my lady?"
"Yes," she says after nodding at the bowing Sir Timothy. He waves his good bye, but Amalia couldn't say wave back, since the duke is already guiding her to their carriage.
The carriage has brought them to Eule, one of four towns inside the castle walls. Since it is in the south, it is warmer and so the snow has started to thaw and the town is already bustling with citizens and merchants alike.
Amalia and Henrick arrive at the heart of the town, where the town chief currently resides. She heard before that Henrick personally visits chieftains all around Adendiff at random. Amalia never did, as she did not want to show her face in all of Adendiff when she is not the real duchess, but still did her duty to give aid and every assistance a duke should give, albeit the communication were only through letters that Edmund received.
She looks up at Henrick, who clearly is on the mission. She should be angry, but she has no right to be, as she never asked about the purpose of this visit. So she can do nothing but follow the man.
Lord Eule is a podgy old man who rarely smiles like Henrick. He has this northern hue in his eyes, his long white beard wild and rough. He wears clothes like the lords in the capital, but darker and has more fur, a gold chain thrown around his neck, and some golden, bejeweled rings. Around his right index finger is a golden ring embellished with a single and small obsidian opal—a symbol of northern leaders passed down by generations.
The chief held the duke's arm in salutation, and then kissed Amalia's hand, as if accepting her as the duke's wife. Amalia doesn't feel welcomed, but then she sees in the corner of her eyes Henrick's small smile. It would be a crime to stay frowning, and so she tried to stretch her lips.
"I didn't know you are back, my lord," he starts, glancing up at him and then at Amalia. "'Tis the duchess who received our reports and letters for three years, and so I thought she was the only one who'll visit when I saw your carriage coming…" He stops when he sees Henrick frown and turns to Amalia, "It is my first time seeing you, Your Grace."
"Yes. I hope you are well, my lord," Amalia greets.
"I came back earlier than expected as I missed my wife," Henrick remarks, and Amalia tries to smile even when her heart has skipped a beat at the mention of the word. "I am well aware that the duchess has increased your funding during my absence, but I came here specifically to ask why you are demanding more."
More? Amalia wants to ask. Were her deeds during those three years still lacking?
"Well, the winter has been harsh, and the aid given will not last until harvest," he replies, his voice softer than the tone in his reports. "Our coffers are near empty, and my people are still trying to get by everyday."
Henrick looks at Amalia, waiting for her to reply. Amalia looks back, and then at Lord Eule who waits for their warrant.
"I had given you a reasonable increase, my lord," Amalia states. "I made sure to aid you when you asked for it. For months, I have checked your town's state, and you have not written anything aside from letters of gratitude. So why ask now, when the winter is almost over?"
Amalia sighs. A month from now, and the southern lands can start plowing their lands once more. Amalia was so sure that the food can last for at least another six months, but why—
"The winter is longer this year, as you may know, my lady," he replies tightly.
It is true that winter is the harshest this year, but that is why she made sure to prepare well. It is also true that he expressed his satisfaction for the funds he received, so she couldn't contemplate on why he is being hostile now when the duke is here.
"I heard it was," the duke says, nodding. Amalia glances at him, horrified at the thought of what he will say next. "But the stocking of wheat has started early on. All coffers are reported to be full of supplies before winter came. Was wheat really the problem, Eule?"
Amalia blinks. He is telling the truth, yes, but she doesn't know if this also is the way Henrick comes to her defense.
"The quality is, well… the birds won't even…"
"But we eat the same kind," the duke raises his brow, "even Amalia ate bread from it this morning." Amalia only stares at the duke before smiling. How can he defend her, an outsider and a temporary duchess, from his loyal vassal?
"Ah, well, it was good, my lord," Amalia replies honestly. "Like Strolis bread, I must say."
"She may be from the north, but she lived some years in Strolis, you see," Henrick tells Lord Eule lightheartedly but with emphasis on the north, as if she really is considered one. The chief only looks at Amalia with disdain.
"I am aware, Your Grace," Lord Eule says through gritted teeth, "but I have received a report that during winter, some people are selling low-quality flour. It has a musty smell and is infested by cockroaches, but still my people bought it as it was during the time when wheat is at its lowest, and we are still waiting for Her Grace's reply." He breathes heavily before continuing, "Those vile men are back again, knowing that our coffers are all but once more low. Besides, my people and I myself are also facing difficulty due to taxes that we still ought to pay despite the long winter, that is why I am humbling myself to save us once more, Your Grace."
Amalia couldn't even look at Henrick. She knows her carelessness would anger him. Maybe, just maybe, her end is nearer than she thought.
"Then, I would like to inspect a few bakers and get their testimonies before I make the decision," Henrick replies.
Amalia saw Lord Eule fidgets, and now she could feel a small hope rising in. She wants to catch him red-handed, so she doesn't allow herself to revel in it, and Henrick helps when she stands and extends his hand to her. Amalia takes it and stands, allowing him to guide her to the door. They said their goodbyes like a threat as the duke said, "I'll will visit again my lord," before they could exit the house.
"Curious, no?" Henrick says after. "He says he doesn't know I am back, but writes the letter to me and not you."
"He always addresses his letters to you," she replies. They are close enough for Amalia to feel the duke's deep sigh.
"Do you want to reprimand him?"
"Why are you taking my side?"
"Well, I read all the reports for the past three years since last week, and I think you did an excellent job. The chief, however… I think he sees you inept as he is himself." They walk into the market, with Henrick matching her strides. He stops to look at hairpins, puts one that has butterflies the color of silver and green on her hair, and after a satisfied look, pays the merchant.
Amalia touches it, not sure how to respond. The gesture is supposed to be sweet—the duke picking her something that would complement her gray-green eyes—if not for the reason that he is her future murderer.
Is he trying to fatten me up? Amalia thinks before thanking him and addressing his earlier statement. "Well, I have a great share of men like him back in Strolis, so it matters not if I want to reprimand him. It would be better if you make the decision."
"Then, shall we visit the bakers?" When Amalia nods, Henrick holds her hand and walks quicker, like an excited little boy on his way to claim his reward. Amalia doesn't say a word and runs to match his pace as the duke takes her to their next destination.