This bedchamber was much larger and more luxurious than the temporary one Tamsin had been given use of before. Like every room in this castle, it was dark and full of shadows, but despite the darkness it was also warm and comfortable, with a small fire already burning in the hearth.

The large four-poster bed in the center of the room was draped in a black velvet canopy, and cushioned box seats had been built all along one wall, under large curtained windows—plenty of room to lounge and bask in the sun, when the sun was out.

Turning around slowly, trying to take everything in, Tamsin saw a work desk with two chairs set up next to the door. And above the desk, only partially illuminated by the fire, was a massive tapestry.

The tapestry, despite its large size, was packed with designs so small that they were hard to make out from a distance. Tamsin took a few steps forward and began to see a crowd of figures, all engaged in a wide variety of activities—some hunting, some fighting, some gardening, some playing instruments, and some using tools Tamsin didn't recognize to do activities Tamsin couldn't guess at. It felt like Tamsin was staring at a representation of the whole breadth of human experience, much of which a small country lady who had hardly ever left her own room before now could not possibly have any idea about.

The figures were all different sizes, and seemingly even different weaving styles, but a vast majority of them all had the same wild red hair.

"My ancestors," said Duchess Jordaine, removing her headdress and shaking her own red hair free. "When I die, someone will add me to the crowd. Unless..."

Tamsin looked at the Duchess quizzically. "Unless?"

Duchess Jordaine shrugged, her expression as unreadable as ever. "Come over here and let me get you unpinned. Now that the ceremony is over, there's no need for us to remain uncomfortable."

"Yes, your grace," said Tamsin, lowering her eyes and cautiously stepping towards her.

The Duchess laughed a short, surprisingly pleasant laugh. "No need to speak so formally, either. You are my husband now, after all." She seemed amused by the word. "Or do you want me to call you 'your grace' now, too? Now that you're a duke?"

Tamsin shook her head. "No, of course not," she answered. "And anyway, you still hold the true authority here. I'm technically only Duke Consort. It's just a courtesy title."

"Then you still deserve the courtesy of a duke," said the Duchess, and Tamsin wasn't sure if the twinkle in her eye was only from the fire. "But if you don't want me to speak formally to you, then you shouldn't speak formally to me, either. Just use my name."

"Alright," said Tamsin.

The Duchess folded her arms and looked down at Tamsin, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

It was difficult for Tamsin to wrap her head around it. Intellectually she understood that they were now legally married, and so it was natural for Tamsin to use Duchess Jordaine's given name, especially in the privacy of their own bedchamber. But on the other hand, using her given name would be like placing themselves on equal footing, and that just felt... wrong. Even now, the Duchess was towering above her in a way that reminded Tamsin of the old forests, or the mountains—something on such a completely different scale of time and importance that Tamsin could barely consider herself in comparison.

But clearly the Duchess... no, Alesia (she had to get used to thinking it, too) wasn't going to let this go until she heard Tamsin say the name out loud.

Tamsin took a deep breath.

"Alesia," she said, so loudly and firmly that she almost startled at the sound of her own voice.

Alesia smiled, showing her teeth in a way that seemed both reassuring and a bit dangerous. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now turn around so I can get at these pins."

Tamsin turned around and felt the presence of Alesia behind her, moving in closer to remove the pins from Tamsin's clothing.

Tamsin was a noblewoman, or she had been raised as one anyway, so she was used to having someone help her dress and undress. But this felt different from when her maids at home had helped her. It felt different from when Hugo had helped put the pins in her outfit in the first place. The woman helping her now, deftly pulling out pins to loosen her clothes, was the woman who had, in another version of Tamsin's life, murdered her. It was the famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) warrior, cousin of the Emperor himself, Duchess Jordaine. It was, impossibly, her new wife.

Alesia's movements were quick and efficient, as you'd expect from a trained soldier, but she was also surprisingly gentle, removing each pin smoothly and neatly, taking the time to drop each one into a little pouch on her waist before moving on to the next one. Every time her hands lightly brushed against Tamsin's arm, shoulder, or back, Tamsin tensed, not knowing if she was anticipating getting hurt, maybe stabbed with one of the pins, or if she was anticipating... something else.

Then Tamsin felt Alesia's fingers on the back of her neck, a little bit cold despite the warmth of the room, and Tamsin shivered, an odd sensation running down the whole of her body—a prickling all over her skin like she was herself covered in invisible pins.

"There," said Alesia, pulling Tamsin's cap away and tossing it aside. All the pins were out, and now Tamsin's head was bare as well. "All done."

"Thank you..." Tamsin said meekly. She ran her fingers through her own hair, trying to shake off that strange sensation of being touched. And she suddenly noticed how much looser and more comfortable her clothing felt, too. She had forgotten how much the pins had been restricting her.

"Well, shall we get to it?" asked Alesia, and Tamsin glanced back over at her.

Alesia had been unlacing her own gown and now she shrugged herself out of it, allowing the velvet garment to fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a low-cut chemise.

Tamsin stared openly. She wasn't exactly sure what it was Alesia expected of her. Did she want to treat this like a legitimate wedding night? But it was only a legal pretense. They both knew that. And it was true that a "first night" was required for a marriage to be considered legitimate, and there was a legal requirement for a married aristocratic couple to share a bedchamber periodically, but Tamsin was very nearly certain that there was nothing in the marriage laws that actually required any sort of actual verification that the actual marital act had, in fact, taken place, so to speak.

But did Alesia... want to? Anyway?

Tamsin was so lost in her suddenly panicked thoughts and the confusing whirl of emotions that accompanied them that it took her a moment to notice that Alesia wasn't, in fact, walking towards the bed. She was walking towards the table by the fireplace. She picked up a stack of papers and held them out towards Tamsin.

Tamsin approached cautiously and took the papers, reading the title on top by the firelight.

"Formal Marriage Contract..." Tamsin was confused. "But we already—"

Alesia waved a hand dismissively. "What we signed after the ceremony was a marriage license between Duchess Alesia Jordaine and Lord Roger Gwedric. This is a personal contract between Alesia and Tamsin."

That made sense. They had discussed personal promises ahead of time—like how Tamsin would agree to a divorce after three years and leave quietly, allowing Jordaine to keep Gwedric as an annexed territory—but of course Alesia would want all that in actual writing.

Part of Tamsin was tempted to just skip to the end and sign it immediately. After all, she wasn't in much of a position to negotiate terms. But she had only gotten this far by paying close attention to legal details, so she sat down in one of the chairs by the desk and started to read.