Medicinal incense coated the chamber as Rosa shuffled about. The elderly lady looked upon the grey complexion of the Madam. The crow feet on the corner of the old handmaid's eye deepened, as the youthful and rambunctious young miss she was assigned to was no longer present.
The annual monsoons turning summer into spring caused days laid up in bed for the Marchioness. Heavily lidded eyes summoned a weak demeanor as the medicine took upon perpetual drowsiness.
“Rosa,” Elisé whispered. Stopping Rosa in her tracks. Turning to face her master with a practiced smile.
“Young Miss.” Affections filled Rosa’s tone. A tone rarely spoken unless the two were alone. At the drop in formality, a spark of childish demeanor filled Elisé’s eyes as tears quickly pricked the precipice. Rosa rushed to her side. Lifting a hand to catch a few stray tears.
“What is little Rinni to do with such a mother?” Elisé felt her heart tear at the thought of her daughter who barely entered high society already becoming the center of attention.
Rosa shook her head furiously at the demeaning comment. “Our Young Miss’s daughter is a sight to behold.” The old maid assured. “No one would dare touch the De Costa’s little lady.”
Elisé’s worries did not subside. The higher one is bolstered up, the more people gather to watch them fall.
Elisé heaved a deep breath as a throaty cough scratched its way up her throat. The awful cough echoed throughout the chamber and tinges of crimson found their way on the linens. Rosa’s eyes widened like saucers, the old maid went pale at the amount of blood.
“SOMEONE!” Rosa called out. “BRING THE PHYSICIAN!”
Elisé’s eyes drooped as each blink grew heavier. It would be days before Elisé would open her eyes next but the perpetual worry over her daughter was all the Madam of the house could spare in spite of her own situation.
The manor was in a constant state of unease. The scratching of quill to parchment broke the silence in the dimly lit study. Arsenio aged due to his nighttime vigils over his wife.
Worry and anger were the emotions he shifted between within any given hour.
Worry over his wife’s health and anger over his inability to aid in any way. Marquis De Costa's eyes wandered over to the letter embossed with the Devoncourts’ sigil.
The White Oak. Titled as wise in thought and appropriate in action. Gifted to the Devoncourts by King Aleksander the first for their meritorious deeds during the war. To discerning eyes, one could spot a serpent hanging on the lowest branch.
Arsenio grimaced at the not-so-distant future when he would have to send his daughter off to a house of large reputation but whose conduct has waned in recent years. As of late, giving the feeling that the noble estate is living off the coattails of past glories.
The Marquis frowned at his precious daughter having to deal with the Devoncourt household. The unsavory history of Grand Duke Kendrick was enough to make Marquis De Costa’s blood boil. Feeling a throb in his temples, Arsenio finally put down his quill and gave full attention to the letter.
Arsenio’s hand touched the deep green wax seal of a tree and sighed heavily. As it read:
Dearest Marquis,
I find my thoughts drifting to the impending storms ahead of us. Preparation is for the wise. Shelter is scarce but I at the Devoncourt Manor offer safe haven if required.
Sincerely,
Grand Duke Elias R. Devoncourt
The Marquis smirked at the well-crafted prose of the Grand Duke. The Marquis wanted to refuse the offer but the pressing matters of court forced his hand to prioritize the family over the want of one person.
The news of Duke Gordon returning after all these years pushed King Richard’s attention to little Rinni. The topic of marriage was skillfully sidestepped and avoided altogether.
With an unexpected variable, Arsenio felt King Richard’s eagerness to marry Katarina off came back tenfold. The only house strong enough to shield Katarina was none other than the Grand Ducal of Devoncourt.
A soft knock on the door before a female form stepped into the study. Rosa clutched her Young Miss to support her.
The Marquis stood at the sight of Elisé, crossing the floor to take her hand. Rosa was about to follow but Elisé shook her head.
“Rosa,” Elisé’s tone was weak. “I need a moment.” The old maid was anxious but didn’t rebuke her request. Rosa’s heels clicked as she gave her master privacy.
Arsenio slowly guided them to his desk. One step at a time, Elisé’s breath, was labored as she willed herself forward. Her ashen appearance gave an air of fragility. She cracked a faint smile when the large man engulfed her in a hug, placing her comfortably on his lap.
“You didn’t come down for lunch,” Elisé traced the palm of her husband. The action caused Arsenio to shiver as affection filled his irises. The hue of her skin no longer gives the radiance of the sun but is still beautiful nonetheless.
Marquis De Costa enclosed her playful finger in his hand placing a kiss on her palm. Elisé let out a giggle and half-heartedly pushed away his advances as crimson tinged her sunken cheeks.
The De Costa couple have been married for nearly two decades as both were in their mid-forties, yet the air around them was like freshly married newlyweds.
Marquis De Costa whispered into his wife's ears as her smile brightened but soon dimmed when her eyes caught sight of the embossed envelope on the desk. Sensing his wife’s discomfort, Arsenio grabbed the envelope and placed it in the top right drawer.
“Darling.” Arsenio rubbed her back before speaking but was soon cut off.
“Isn’t it about time to travel down south?” Elisé tried to change the subject.
“Travelling to the south would be too much on the body.” Arsenio countered as he gazed at his frail-bodied wife.
“I can stay here while you take Rinni and Azrael.” The Marchoniess’ eyes shook.
A deep sigh was released from Arsenio’s lungs trying his best to comfort his wife. “I wouldn’t want to leave you here by yourself and besides such an obvious ploy isn’t going to work, My Love.” Arsenio rubbed Elisé’s cheek.
“The King is in his golden years and has served this Kingdom twice as long as his predecessors due to King Edwards passing.” Arsenio's tone was cold and informative. “The King is intending for this year’s debutant to be his last.” Arsenio’s skull throbbed as a slight headache formed. “The invitations to foreign emissaries have been sent,” He said as he pointed to the stacks of parchment strewed across his desk.
Being the person in charge of foreign affairs, it was Arsenio’s job to coordinate and accommodate the invited guests. Locking the head of the De Costa family firmly in Vicon for the time being.
“We already have fifty to eighty willing attendees.” Arsenio laughed at the headache the King unknowingly created for him.
Elisé stroked Arsenio’s hair but her thoughts wandered to her daughter.
“Rinni is seventeen but it is a tradition that she shall find a husband in the South.” Elisé’s shoulders slump forward, not willing to resign her daughter’s future due to the whims of the King. “Must she get married this year?” She asked.
When Marquis Youssef De Costa and Arsenio came down to Aswán, Elisé remembered the whole of Aswán was bustling to greet them.
Elisé’s family were barons, minor in comparison to other noble families with eligible young ladies.
So when the Aswánian King called for her father and asked about marriage with the De Costa’s heir, Elisé was taken by surprise. She smiled at the memory before giving her husband a stern look. “We were engaged for four years before we got married,” Elisé argued.
“Our situation is different from Katarina’s.” Arsenio tucked a loose strand of hair behind Elisé's ear. “When King Hector blessed our marriage, he gave you the title as Aswán’s honorary princess to bolster your standing in Vicon.” Arsenio stroked his wife’s cheeks.
“Now, this status looms over our children’s heads.” Arsenio looked his wife in the eyes. “The stronger the light, the greater the shadow it cast, My Darling.” Arsenio sighed as Elisé bit her lip.
“The De Costa family holds too much power,” Elisé spoke as she triggered a fit of coughs that filled her throat with iron. Arsenio’s eyes widen about to move to get the physician. Elisé held tight to her husband’s gaze shaking her head. “No, I am alright. Speak plainly Arsenio. Is this the only road our daughter can traverse?” Elisé stared straight into the dauntless Marquis' eyes.
Arsenio nodded helplessly. “King Richard is well aware of our situation and has told me directly to neutralize our family before the debutant season starts or he will see to it himself.” Arsenio exhaled a visible breath. Elisé eyes were furious at the underlying threat. Arsenio rested his hand on the small of her back. Drawing circles to calm her. It didn’t work.
“How dare—” Elisé restrained her words, not finishing her statement.
“With the notice of Duke Gordon’s return. I suspect that King Richard is especially cautious and Rinni is too much of a variable to leave unspoken for.” Arsenio’s hand slid up his wife’s back as his fingers fluttered along the column of her throat.
The touch held affection but a storm rested behind the Marquis’ eyes. “The King made it clear that he did not want to trouble the De Costa house with talks about royal succession and agreed to the marriage with Grand Duke Devoncourt.” Arsenio scoffed before eyeing his wife’s mood carefully.
Elisé’s anger receded into a thoughtful expression as she pictured the turbulent time Vicon will soon face.
“The neutral stance since grandfather’s time is a testament of how big of an influence the De Costa family could have on Vicon’s court, but it also shows where our loyalty should lay,” Arsenio said as he embraced his wife. “And that is in the King, and no one else.” Elisé listened to her husband’s usual rhetoric as she felt helpless.
“Will it be safer this way?” A sudden voice surprised the De Costa couple. They both glanced up to see Azrael leaning against the door frame with a worried look on his face.
Arsenio imagined the news of Rinni’s impending engagement had brought their son back to them before the end of term.
Marchioness De Costa’s mood shifted as it has been nearly nine months since she had last seen her son. Elisé tried her best to bring forth energy as she attempted to lift her body off her husband but was caught by Arsenio’s large embrace.
Arsenio sneered at the dullard who dared to ruin a rare intimate moment with his wife.
“You brat, your professors were nagging me at the King’s Banquet.” Marquis De Costa complained. “That tart, General Reddrick made no effort in being civil either. Proclaiming that he managed to steal away the academy’s golden student. Don’t make me clean up your indecisiveness.” He snarled. Jealousy filled the middle-aged man as his wife was struggling from his embrace to greet her eldest.
“It is not indecisiveness, just a lack of acceptance.” Azrael scoffed. “The professors knew of my desire to enter the military exam, but refuse to accept it.”
Azrael was bombarded by professors to continue his education and become a scholar, but that wasn’t what he wanted.
Azrael was proficient in riding, archery, and the blade and thought it a waste to throw away such skills for desk work. Finding pride in his military roots, Azrael wanted to pay homage to his Great Grandfather, Rodrigo De Costa, his namesake.
“In Vicon, they do cherish the quill over the sword,” Marchioness De Costa’s exhaled at the small struggle. Her limbs gave way as she settled her back against the Marquis’ large chest. “Your blessing does not mean you can neglect your intellect.” Marchioness's eyes crest into subtle wrinkles as she admonishes her son. “I would strangle you if you became a brute.” Elisé’s weak deposition did not deter the authority in her words.
“No need to worry mother, I aim to be a tactical General,” Azrael smirked but received a daggered glare from his father telling him to leave with his eyes. “The reason why I am here is because of Renny.” Azrael’s demeanor shifted. “I hear the marriage with Grand Duke Devoncourt is to be finalized?” Azrael asked his father.
“It is a process.” Marquis huffed at the intrusion of his son. “If we accept readily, it will not look good on your sister.” Arsenio rolled his eyes at how the Viconian aristocracy handled things.
If you accept too readily, it reflects that you are desperate. If you accept too late, you will be seen as a prude. In other words, Arsenio saw it as ridiculous.
“The reputation of your sister must be handled with care.” Elisé nodded in understanding the ways of women. The competition in Aswán was stiff, but Vicon nobility was ruthless. “The De Costa family needs no marriage for our honor.” Marchioness De Costa stood up and straightened her dress swaying for a moment. Arsenio rushed to catch her waist but was beaten by his son.
Elisé gripped her son’s arm, wondering when he towered over her. The Marchioness caressed Azrael’s cheek as tears formed in her eyes. “When have you gotten so tall?”
Azrael was surprised by the weight of his mother. She was extremely light. Her shoulders seemed to narrow as if the lioness he knew her to be was nowhere to be seen.
“Was always tall, you have just noticed,” Azrael put on a toothy grin making his mother laugh earning a few coughs in the process.
Silence passed between the mother and son pair before Elisé spoke.
“Your sister understands,” The Marchioness' voice broke imagining her little girl. A somber expression couldn’t be hidden as she placed a kiss on Azrael's cheek.
Rosa made her presence known before she hurried to her Young Miss’ side. Accepting the long-time maid’s aid, Elisé straighten her back as she exited the study. Leaving the father and son pair alone.
Marquis De Costa watched his wife, his face crumpling under his worry but swiftly composed himself before addressing his son.
“We are planning to let a rumor of their engagement be known throughout the social events before confirming plans.” Marquis De Costa took out the Devoncourt letter from the drawer and handed it to his son.
At first glance, Azrael confirmed that bigger things were at stake than just family honor. Katarina’s marriage would safeguard and re-affirm their loyalty to the crown. A sad smile appeared on Azrael’s face at the huge burden Katarina had to carry.
Sensing the gloomy disposition, Marquis De Costa stood up and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Your sister, she understands.” Marquis De Costa mirrored the Marchioness’s remark. Azrael closed his eyes and the glint of worry disappeared as a stoned face expression replaced it.
“As she should.” Azrael's words hung in the air as he swallowed a scowl directed at no one in particular.
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