For the past week Rhosyn was restless, expecting something to slip from the north, but only silence and the cold wind drifted down. She'd worn away the rug in her uncle's office, staring intently at either his safe or Caerwyn's annoyed demeanour—which wasn't much different from his usual self, except he stroked his sheathed blade as if contemplating using it.
In short, the week was a long, dragging one and yet again she was on her way to Hemsgate Palace, only with mildly more sleep.
The carriage door opened and Rhosyn breathed in relief to escape the box.
"Lady Valewyn." A messenger practically tripped over himself as he spotted her.
Caerwyn took a step forward, an unspoken warning and the messenger faltered a few steps away, a little unsure.
"My Lady, Crown Prince Edrien has asked for you to meet him in his apartments as soon as you arrive—" of course he had, "—he says 'it's urgent.'"
The word ran chills across her arms and her feet were already taking her to him. Anticipation tightening her lungs, Rhosyn couldn't shake the nervous thrill. It had been a week, but hope whispered in the promise of that one word—urgent.
If she hadn't worn such high heels, or maybe a lighter gown, she'd have been there already. But Caerwyn's clearing of his throat told her that she was rushing and it'd turn heads, and gossip already spread fast enough.
With a rap of knuckles on the prince's door, a heartbeat of a pause, and then a small voice calling her in. Edrien was already bridging the distance between them, worry worn on his brow and a large parchment clutched in one hand.
"Rhos," he began as always. "This came from—"
"Duke Karsyn," Rhosyn easily finished, already taking the unravelled paper from him and reading.
Edrien paced away, before deciding better of it and returning to her side. "He's implementing some clause, it looks..."
Brilliant.
"It reforms taxation duchy-wide, standardises import and export tolls with fortnightly updates, and caps bread from rising beyond inflation—any increase offset by the alms lords are required to give," Rhosyn murmured, a little exhilarated, a little in disbelief.
What was his game? This would cost him significantly, especially if it didn't work. If the king put up taxes again, the duke would have to front the costs to keep his 'Common Charter' even viable.
"He'll look like a hero to the commoners—they already whisper about the 'Keeper of the North,'" Edrien grumbled, fisting his hand.
It was an old title, an echo of the times when the north was its own small kingdom and the Karsyn's, descendants of the northern kings. It was a call for revolution and civil war.
If public opinion was how he rallied his support, then Rhosyn needed to control the narrative.
"What if I adopt this charter too," Rhosyn asked, an idea already forming.
"But—"
"Bear with me Ed," she hushed him, roaming the room as if it was too small to contain the thoughts rushing through her head. "What if we got all the southern dukes to adopt this charter?"
It would certainly benefit the kingdom if they regulated taxation, it could even stabilise markets and lead to prosperity. But only if the king folded to social pressure—though she suspected she'd have to convince him in another way, usually with the promise of gold.
"I mean, they are all in the hall as we speak." Edrien scratched his head as if it was an obvious progression.
"Perfect—and we'll sell it as your idea," Rhosyn added, buttoning Edrien's top button. "And claim that Duke Karsyn implemented it sooner than instructed—clearly keen to comply."
The smirk that slid onto her face felt earned, though she still had yet to win the battle.
Something glinted excited in Edrien's eyes, his previous nerves all but forgotten.
"Ready?" she asked, half turning and holding her hand out. "We've got dukes to charm."
He opened his arm in a wing, Rhosyn slipping her hand through, ready to be chaperoned. A shaky breath slipped from his lips and she could see the worry he was hiding behind a bravado.
"You can take Duke Fairfax," she said softly, patting his hand gently.
Fairfax was logical and fairly reliable, making him predictable and easy to sell an idea to, if you knew how to phrase it. That left Duke Talmir, Kingsdown and Tidewell—brilliant.
They stepped into the hall via a side door, avoiding the bother and bustle of the main entrance, raised and an announcement at every entry. This suited Rhosyn far better; swift, low-profile and quiet.
She'd already scoped the room locating the dukes in question, pulled on her armour and stepped ahead of Edrien.
Sometimes Rhosyn felt like the battle was more with the southern lords, where the war was with the north. Her and Edrien being the ones standing in the crossfire trying to stop the kingdom from tearing itself down.
First up, Duke Talmir—fun.
He stood as if he hadn't just been reprimanded of committing an injustice, and in a way, he hadn't been. He'd simply killed a commoner, one who he felt wronged him. Even the king didn't care, not truly, he only took action because it was an easy win—except for the dead man's family.
"Lady Valewyn. " He barely registered her curtsy.
"Your Grace," she bit on the words.
"What more can I do for the Crown Prince?" Talmir said, aloof and his haughty gaze sliding off her figure to watch the ballroom.
She knew he cared not for her, whether it was her politics or alliances—she was but a boring detail, an accessory of the Crown Prince.
"His Highness has an inspiring proposal that you might find interesting, Your Grace," Rhosyn explained, her tone pleasant despite her desire to cajole. "It is a charter that'll stabilise the kingdom and create prosperity—and thus wealth."
"And what does the king say about this?" Talmir asked, looking as disinterested with the idea as he was with her.
She figured he'll be hard to convince, toeing the line reluctantly and scorning the Crown Prince for using him as a sacrificial lamb. Talmir had no love but for his own skin and his loyalties were to whoever would benefit him.
"The king will see merit in this—"
"Only merit," he sniggered. "We both know the king won't blindly endorse charters just because his heir wishes him to."
Rhosyn breathed a steadying breath. She knew Talmir would be difficult, his disdain for her another challenge that forced her to bite on her tongue.
"Well, I'm sure if you look over the charter you'd agree—"
"Why are you so loyal to the prince, Lady Valewyn?" Talmir cut her off, a sneer curling at his lips. "I wonder, could you really be the river bitch he's pupped?"
The words were a slap and his gaze upon her wanted to capture the scorn on her face—but she didn't give him the pleasure. Rumours always circled and she wouldn't let herself be takings for the vultures.
"I see, no matter," her words dripped warning. "I guess you will be one of the few duchies that don't align yourself with the charter." She turned her back on him. "The prince will remember who stood by him and who sought to besmirch his name."
Rhosyn circled the hall, watching Edrien laugh with Duke Fairfax. That was good news at least. Duke Kingsdown would be just as hard to move as Talmir, which meant her best move was to secure Duke Tidewell.
Tidewell was more forthcoming than she expected, his eye keen for the trades benefits the charter would bring. He understood that the more duchies that signed the Common Charter, the more fruit would be born from it. Where the duchies who failed to would not only lose trade, but their own regions could crash.
He was most interested in the fact that they'd already gained support from Solmere—Duke Fairfax—and Harrowfen—the northern duke.
"But of course we have invited Greenwold—" Duke Talmir, "—and I would support the charter in Ravelocke," Rhosyn stated. "And Duke Caldren of Greyreach has been notified and I am shortly readying myself to make Duke Kingsdown aware, Your Grace."
"Duke Karsyn of Harrowfen you say," Tidewell hummed on a thought. "And you are sure he is in favour of this?"
"He has written to Crown Prince Edrien that he wishes to implement it immediately," Rhosyn couldn't stop the smile that slipped on her face and thanked that Tidewell read it as something sweet.
His brows rose, impressed. "Well, that alone convinces me. If Crown Prince Edrien can win the approval of the northern duke, then I am most definitely on board. But only if the optics prove this direction," Tidewell declared—a businessman at heart.
"Of course, Your Grace," Rhosyn curtsied and watched the man retreat into the hall.
That guaranteed Tidewell as when he hears the news that the northern duke has adopted the Common Charter, he'd assume the support and pledge his own. With Fairfax and herself, that was four duchies, albeit the king agreed to let her sign her region to it. That was another trick she had to wrangle, but she was sure she could, with the little help of her own personal wealth.
Being the sole heir to her father's and uncle's wealth and estate, Rhosyn had a substantial personal wealth protected by her dowry. But she was sure that the king would overlook her making a withdrawal, if the benefactor was himself of course.
More than half the duchies using the Common Charter would force a few other's hands and the kingdom would finally have protected trade rights. Which would only encourage trade and the flow of money within the kingdom's borders.
That, and another win under Edrien's belt and the wind out of the northern duke's sails.
Just one more duke to talk to tonight—Duke Kingsdown—the king's very own 'yes' man. He'd only bow if the king agrees, which meant this conversation would be pointless. But she had to give him foreknowledge of the charter to sell the idea later, so she strolled over to the man with all the composure and grace she could muster—this would be a difficult conversation.
Rhosyn had been called both a bitch and a loyalist in the same night, yet she was sure that everyone whispered both under their breath when she wasn't near. So, improvement. But at least the conversations with dukes were done, though nothing was ever easy when it came to going up the rung.
Climbing the stair dais, Rhosyn curtsied, Edrien jumping the steps two at a time to stand next to her.
"Your Majesty," she greeted, straightening.
"What is it that you two want this time?" King Alestan fixed his hard dark eyes on them.
Edrien shrunk slightly, where Rhosyn stood taller, chin up.
"Crown Prince Edrien has a brilliant proposition, Your Majesty," she announced.
Alestan's eyes slid to Edrien. "Then why does he not speak it himself?"
He was always like this, prickly and sour. Rhosyn wasn't sure if the man just despised her or if he just had no regard for women at all. Edrien glanced at her and she gave him an encouraging nod.
He swallowed and stepped forward. "We can reform the taxation—" the king's brow twitched, Edrien stuttered.
Rhosyn interceded. "The realm is forced to raise taxes every year, Your Majesty, to fill empty coffers and because every year we gather less and less," she began, Alestan's eyes taking her in with new regard. "Edrien has initialised duchy-wide charters that will maintain taxation on its populace, import and export tax that'll be managed at low rates."
"I don't see how this would fill my coffers..." Alestan glared at the two of them, but it washed off Rhosyn.
Clearly the king couldn't see the beauty of it. He lacked vision, and without her guidance Edrien would've missed it too.
"Well, Your Majesty, if you lower taxes overall and maintain reliable prices, people will become more productive and have more to sell which would result in more money for you."
He remained quiet a moment too long and she wondered if she should continue explaining, he didn't seem to understand. That, or he loved to wear a scowl when lords and ladies asked anything from him.
She could see he couldn't fully comprehend why lowering tax would make more money and she resisted rolling her eyes.
"If you lower tax, people would spend more, make more, breed more, build more—it's just basic growth, Your Majesty," Rhosyn clarified. "Lords will still be paying you taxes, but at the beginning it might take time for fruition to show. If taxes were marginalised a little, the kingdom will prosper and profit margins will rise."
"And what do I do in the meantime?" he finally bit—perfect.
"Well, Your Majesty, I have a substantial dowry, but I can't touch any of it as it's for my future husband," she started, Edrien blinking at her questioningly. "If my guardian would be so gracious as to allow me to access a small amount, I could donate it to the crown to ensure the realm is stable while we're becoming accustomed to the new charter."
Alestan hummed—a good sign, he only hummed when he's interested.
"Fine, give me a write up of this charter and see if the other dukes are on board—I won't force dukes to adopt something they don't wish to." Alestan waved his hand as if he was never intrigued by it.
Together, Rhosyn and Edrien bowed and retreated back down the stairs, mutual silence between them until their feet met the marble floor. His hand glossed her waist and his mouth dipped close to her ear.
"I can't believe that actually worked," he whispered with all the excitement of victory hot on his tongue.
"Thanks for having faith," Rhosyn bantered, a light laugh escaping her throat and a humoured roll of the eyes.
"Right," Edrien led them toward the garden exit, slipping a bottle of wine from a chiller with a grin and a completely different plan to what Rhosyn was used to creating. "Celebrate time."
The night air already had a chill in it and Rhosyn wondered if winter would start before they were ready. A shiver rang through her and she couldn't stop involuntarily shaking. Then a jacket was being set around her arms, chasing away the cold and she looked up at Edrien now standing in just a shirt and waistcoat.
"I forgot you don't like the cold," Edrien said, almost awkwardly, "...or the gardens."
"It's not that I don't like the gardens..." But she couldn't complete the sentence, because she didn't know how to.
It had been so long since her eighth birthday, so much had changed, but there were whispers of doubt and pain that vibrated on those lonely memories. Edrien watched her trying to figure out what thoughts she was lost on and what ones he shouldn't bring back up. They walked in the quiet for a few painful beats.
"Your birthday is coming soon," Edrien took a hopeful stab. "I'll make it up to this year, I promise, Rhos." And he sounded sincere.
"Thank you, Ed, but you don't have to," she assured, hugging his coat closer to fight off the early winter chill.
"So..." Edrien kicked at the floor before taking a long swig from the bottle. "The big 21st birthday..."
Rhosyn knew what he was implying. When an unattached lady turns twenty-one, they are fast-tracked to be married. A duty that was taken up by the king—and whoever was close enough to give helpful advice. They weren't allowed to marry the lady down, but once the king made a decision, there was no changing her destination.
By the end of winter, she'd be betrothed and soon after that, married. But she still couldn't imagine it—her future, or her future husband.
"I hated when you turned fourteen," Edrien complained, pulling Rhosyn from a thought she didn't know she was lost in and thankful to Edrien for dragging her out. "Uncle Halvar stopped you from playing ball with me."
"You're only upset because you used to kick it into the trees and were too scared to climb them—so I had to," Rhosyn swung her hip into him, sending him off balance and spilling most of the bottle down himself.
They laughed despite it all.
"He said you needed to look presentable to potential suitors..." He gave her an oddly serious look. "I wonder who he had in mind," he continued, staring out at the stars and finding only two bright enough to be seen. "Imagine if he stayed alive until you were sixteen—just two more years—you'd be married by now."
The words crawled over her arms uncomfortably. Rhosyn couldn't imagine a life where she wasn't here standing next to the Crown Prince.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, reading the discomfort on her face. "Don't worry, nothing will change even after you're married."
Strangely, those words didn't ease her completely.
"Is there anyone you had in mind, maybe I can convince father—"
"I don't know Ed," she cut him short, his words just stoked more questions inside her head and she couldn't think straight. "I've not planned this far and I haven't even looked at anyone eligible."
Edrien offered the bottle and Rhosyn stared at it for a heartbeat before accepting it and taking a large gulp. The bubbles hit the top of her mouth and her head spun before she'd even swallowed it down. But at least her mind stopped screaming.
"I'm eligible," Edrien appealed, his childish pleading eyes and mocking smirk.
She shook her head in humour, handing back his bottle and smiled despite herself.
"I don't want to be used to appease some lord's desires for gold or land," she explained, ignoring his joking comment—it did its job, it cheered her up. "I want someone who'd be smart enough to let me run my own region in any sort of way."
Rhosyn sighed, her mind drifting on another mood and not being able to grasp any of her thoughts, worries, concerns. It was unusually pleasant, though she knew she'd regret it.
"You should announce your engagement on your birthday, make it public before you're forced to marry someone you don't like," Edrien suggested, and it didn't sound terrible.
"Force the king's hand through public pressure...?' Rhosyn elaborated.
It sounded all and well, but she needed someone to propose marriage to—and she felt strangely unconventional.