A few hours later, Artizia was finally alone again.
In the darkness, she stretched out in bed with an unrestrained groan. Her body was still very sore. The fact that she had been so sedentary the entire day really didn’t help.
The Duke had stayed for longer than she had anticipated. His behaviour had also been quite different from what she was used to. A corner of her lip lifted at the memory of what happened at dinner. His comeback had taken her by surprise.
Artizia had some conflicting feelings about her marriage. Her reason for agreeing to it was simple – she liked his face. She had heard enough about his dedication to his work to quell nearly any hope she might have had for a storybook romance. However, she had grown up in a loving family – her parents were famous for their affection for each other. It would be a lie to say that she had been completely unaffected by the Duke’s evident disinterest.
A small huff of laughter suddenly escaped her. He had looked so pleased with himself when he returned her verbal jab that she couldn’t help the thought that her husband was quite cute.
Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise her that he was able to handle her teasing. He was one of Leo’s long-time friends, after all. Her brother’s taunting was worse.
She sobered when the thought of Leo brought that glimpse of Byzenkar on fire back to the forefront of her mind.
What was she supposed to do? How did she go about confirming the truth of a vision like that? Time magic was extremely rare and had a notoriously high rate of unpredictability. Even if she could find a mage who could see the future, it would be unwise to put all her eggs in one basket.
Could it all be a bizarre dream? Margaret had been telling her for weeks that she was stressed about the wedding. Perhaps she was right. But why did she seem to have memories from a different world?
Closing her eyes, she pushed the thoughts away.
Her head was a mess. All the questions just beget more questions. There would be time enough for her to worry after a night’s sleep.
An hour after dawn, Margaret opened the bedroom door carefully to find Artizia dressed in dark, snug clothes in the middle of the room, doing a handstand.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she greeted. Artizia grunted a reply. There was a sheen of sweat on her and a look of pained concentration on her face. Margaret watched her for a long moment before moving to the bed and beginning to tidy up. “Are you still feeling unwell?”
The duchess grunted again as she slowly lowered her legs, a slight tremor in them. Margaret said nothing more, moving around the room and organising things before disappearing into the bathroom to run a bath for her mistress as Artizia continued to bend her body in unusual ways.
Once the water was running, she returned to the bedroom where Artizia finally had her feet on the ground again. Her upper body was bent all the way down, and she had her arms wrapped around her knees. Knowing that Artizia would be done with her routine in a few minutes, Margaret exited the bedroom and soon returned with a large pitcher of cold water.
Beads of sweat were running down Artizia’s neck when she straightened herself and her breathing was a little rough. Margaret handed her a glass of cold water as she said, “It is good to see you return to your routine.”
Her mistress made a face and downed the drink. She held out the glass for Margaret to top up. “I can’t believe how weak I feel. It’s only been a month.”
“Twenty-three days, to be exact.” Margaret said. She watched Artizia down the second glass of water and filled it up again when it was held out.
“You sound disappointed in me,” Artizia’s tone was tinged with dry amusement. Margaret was used to this tone – and she had secretly been missing it the past week while her mistress had been acting differently, trying to maintain a different image in front of her new husband.
Dinner with the Duke must have gone well. The Duchess was acting like herself again. Margaret had entertained a bit of scepticism regarding the success of this marriage. She had practically raised Artizia. It had been obvious from the first time she saw what her mistress’s prospective husband looked like that Artizia was marrying him for his appearance.
The few interactions she had witnessed between the pair up until last night had not given her much hope that her young mistress would have a loving relationship. Maybe she had judged the Duke too harshly.
After all, he was good friends with Master Leo. The Byzenkarian heir had a good sense for people.
Instead of responding directly to Artizia’s words, Margaret freed the glass from her hand after it was clear she wouldn’t be drinking any more and placed it along with the nearly empty pitcher on a nearby table.
“The bath will be ready soon. What are your plans for today?”
“Anything scheduled?”
“Nothing yet.”
Mmm, I don’t think I’ll do anything today,” Artizia said. “I may go for a run later but for now prepare a light breakfast for me on the balcony.”
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