Erik burst into his room and nearly slammed the door shut, then leaned back against it, covering his face with his hands. Underneath those hands, if anyone had been around to observe him, they would have seen an intense blush rolling across his face like a boiling ocean. 

It was the lady’s maid… not her…

The Duke recalled the faces of the servants and knights he had rushed past to get to her rooms. 

Making a fool of myself… what everyone must think of me… what she must think of me…

Erik lowered his hands to his sides and he tilted his head back until it was touching the door. He stared at the wooden boards of the ceiling above him, tracing the grains of wood with his eyes. He took a deep breath, allowing his heart to slow down and the heat in his face to subside.

What is wrong with me… why did I panic like that… why didn’t I think things through… she was just fine…

Erik recalled Karissa’s face when she had quickly closed the doors to her washroom, no doubt to preserve Lilian’s modesty, and her quick explanation that she was not the one who was injured.

What if she had been in the bath instead… and I just barged in like that…

The blush returned with a vengeance.

Idiot… you absolute idiot…

Erik sighed, running his hand through his close-cropped, sweaty hair. He glanced across the room to the full-length mirror that stood beside the tall oak wardrobe. The dishevelment of the man in armor he saw there was unfamiliar to him. 

His cape, gone. His arm, bandaged. His mind, confused. 

He’d been in this type of disarray before, but not for a long while. He had prided himself on getting to a state of confidence and relative control at this point in his life. He was usually calm and collected. 

What was it about this young woman that flustered him so much? What was it about this former princess that made him rush around after her like a guard dog with a flock of sheep?

She’s not helpless, that much is clear. She stabbed that wyvern and came out without a scratch… how did she manage to do that, anyway?

The Duke shook his head, not wanting his mind to go down that rabbit hole. He sighed again, staring at his unkempt reflection for a moment longer. Then he glanced into the washroom and saw that a bath had already been prepared for him. A nice soak at the end of this long day would help to ease his physical aches. And maybe it would help his mind to relax as well. 

Erik sat down on the wooden chair beside the canopy bed to begin removing his armor. Most other knights needed a squire to help them take off their armor. But Erik had designed his himself with special emphasis on being able to take it off without any assistance. While he appreciated the need for armor and its essential role in keeping him alive during battle, he never wanted to be stuck in it if he didn’t want to be.

First, the greaves on his arms and the bracers on his shins. He again flexed his left hand, feeling the patchwork of stitches underneath the white bandages pull on his skin. Next, the shoulder plates. Small remnants of fabric left behind by his cape reminded him to add yet another item to his mental list. Ask the seamstress to sew on another cape. Then was the breastplate, and lastly he unbuckled his belt which held the sheathed sword and dagger.

Each buckle undone and each piece falling to the floor with a clatter was like another weight falling from his mind. He would leave them outside his door while he bathed, and a page would come by to wash and polish it all, and return them shining like new. He would need another greave made for his left arm since it had been damaged by that wyvern, but that could be left for another time.

Finally he pulled off his padded vest and sweat-soaked linen shirt underneath, again looking at himself in the mirror. More scars of past battles lay scattered across his chest, back, and arms. Some were large and quite visible, while others were thin and more hidden. He grimaced at his reflection.

A guard dog indeed.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“What is it?” Erik asked.

“Your Grace, I was just informed that you have returned from the infirmary,” the familiar voice of Duncan said from the other side of the door.

If Duncan had been informed of his return, the man had surely also heard of how the Duke had returned. A blush threatened to overtake Erik’s face once more.

“Yes, and I would like to take my meal here in my room,” the Duke said, anticipating the steward’s next question, and effectively avoiding any further humiliation for the night.

“Very good, Your Grace. A bath has already been set up in your washroom, though I fear the water may have gone cold.”

“Yes, thank you, I can manage. Oh, and Duncan?” 

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Send meals to the Duchess and her lady’s maid as well. They won’t be coming down to the dining hall tonight.”

“Yes, Your Grace, I will take care of it.” 

“And the nurse, make sure the lady’s maid is looked after as soon as the nurse gets here.”

“Yes, of course, Your Grace. Is there anything else?”

“No, that is all.”

“Very well. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

“Goodnight, Duncan.”

Erik heard the steward’s retreating footsteps move down the passageway away from his door. He stood up and put an ear to the door, making sure that no one else was passing by. Satisfied, he opened the door part way and set his pile of armor, the dirty padding, and his weapons just outside his room for the page.

At last, it was time for a bath.

Eriks took off his remaining clothing and stepped into the bath, pleased to find that the water was still warm. He scrubbed his body clean, careful not to get the bandages on his left arm wet. He lathered soap onto his scalp and worked it through his hair, then dunked his head underneath the water a few times to rinse it all out. 

Then Erik let out a sigh, leaning against the back of the tub, letting the warm water soothe his aching muscles. The last two days had been much more eventful than he had hoped. But now, perhaps, he could rest.

There was another knock at the door. Probably his meal.

“What is it?” the Duke called out.

“Your Grace, I have brought your food,” said another familiar voice.

“You may come in.” 

The door opened, admitting Jeremy, the lanky youth who was the newest addition to the keep’s servants. He was also Julianna’s youngest brother, and shared the family trait of dark, curly hair and fierce eyebrows. However, Jeremy did not share his sister’s domineering personality. 

The boy closed the door behind him and nodded his head jovially to the Duke, then carried the covered silver tray over to the small table beside the canopy bed. He set it down carefully, then straightened and came to stand at attention in front of the bed.

“Is there anything else you’ll be needing, Your Grace?” Jermey asked.

“No, that will be all.” The boy nodded, then moved to the door again, but paused.

“Was there something you needed, Jeremy?” Erik asked, still sitting in the bath and feeling slightly self conscious that some of his scars were so visible to the boy. Even though he had known Jermey since he was born, Erik still didn’t like anybody seeing his patchwork of damaged skin.

“Oh, no, Your Grace. It’s just… it’s exciting, isn’t it?” he said, a grin adorning his youthful face.

“What is?”

“Well, for you to be married, of course!” Jermey said, turning around fully to face the Duke. “Father and I thought it would never happen, especially after… well, I shouldn’t bring that up… what I mean to say is, I’m really happy for you, Er… Your Grace.” Erik chuckled.

“Jeremy, you may call me Erik when it is just the two of us.”

“Really? Oh, that would be nice. I’m still getting used to the keep you know, but I’m doing my best, just like you asked.”

“I know you are.” Jermey brightened at the praise, then tilted his head at the Duke questioningly.

“So, when do you think the ceremony will be?” Erik’s mind drew a blank at the question. 

Ceremony? What ceremony? “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Erik said warily.

“You know, the marriage ceremony!”

“Lady Karissa and I are already married, legally, by the emperor. The documents were signed two weeks ago.”

“Oh, I know that,” Jermey said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I mean the party, the un-official wedding. Everyone’s talking about it, saying it’ll be the biggest celebration of the year in Hallel!”

“Everybody?”

Panic was beginning to creep into Erik’s mind again, just when he had gotten it to relax. Everyone is expecting a full on ceremony, and a party? Then another, more horrifying thought. Is Karissa expecting a wedding, too?

“Yep, everyone I’ve talked to at least. Oh, I need to go, I forgot I need to help clean up the dining hall. Goodnight, Erik!” With that Jermey left the Duke to stew in his bath water, worrying that he had offended his new wife, again, by not even mentioning a ceremony or a party to commemorate their marriage.

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to let out a growl of frustration.

I am an absolute idiot…