She deliberately stepped past the threshold to her stillroom, leaving the door open. Rosaline mentally dismissed the lady in waiting, focusing instead on the lady who stood a few feet behind, projecting an air of quiet authority. 
    Lady Selena Thorne, the woman who liked to call herself the Marchioness of Thorne.
    Dressed impeccably as usual in a gown of finest silk, colored a deep shade of green that reflected matching highlights into the oily black of her neatly coiffed hair. Except for the wide streak of bright white spreading from her right temple.  The dark color of her gown, paired with her dark hair, set off her complexion perfectly. Her large yellow eyes, tinged slightly with an almost orange hue, practically glowed against skin as pale as the finest porcelain.
   Rosaline knew that in her youth, Selena Bolingville had been a sought-after beauty from a minor noble house in the Royal Territory. It was said that competition for her attention had been fierce. However, for some unknown reason, she had joined the Hallowfeld household as a companion for Sebastian’s aging mother shortly before his marriage to Rosaline’s mother and faded into obscurity only to appear at Verdant Shade Castle within days of Rosamund Thorne’s death with a four year old daughter in tow. 
    Even a child like Rosaline had no trouble seeing what had taken place, let alone the vassals and loyal retainers in the Castle. Blanche had inherited her snow white complexion from her mother, along with her ruby red lips, and her black hair and eyes from their father. A perfect blending of two species of viper. Scholars should study such successful crossbreeding. 
  Now approaching middle age, the young beauty’s smooth skin was starting to be invaded by thin creases. Lips that had once been described as resembling precious rubies floating in cream had darkened with age to resemble blood dripped onto snow. Her eyes, though, still held the same smoldering intensity and greed that Rosaline had seen when the woman had first laid eyes on her all those years ago. 
   Rosaline’s eyes lingered on the woman’s hair, especially that wide streak of white, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The woman could try as hard as she liked to erase her mother’s memory, but for the rest of her wretched life, every time she looked in the mirror, she would have to remember who the real Master of the South had been. 
    “Her ladyship grants you the honor of speaking with her! How dare you make her wait! The insolence!” The lady in waiting blustered. A glance at the detached gaze of her mistress, tacitly approving of her berating of the young woman, prompted her to step forward towards the doorway, intentionally shoving her aside with her shoulder. 
    “Feel free to keep going if you want to get a more intimate view of the corridor’s floor. I do know that the maids have been rather lax in their attentions to this wing of the castle. Perhaps if one of the Marquess’s wife’s servants rolls around in the dirt, they’ll attend to their duties properly.” Rosaline slid to the side, allowing the woman full access to the doorway while reminding her of the fates of those who had attempted to enter the room without her permission. While they may not know why, everyone who lived or worked in the Castle knew that trying to force their way into the two chambers used by the strange young apothecary was asking for trouble.
     If she were not inside the room, allowing entry, even if the door was open, then her mother’s enchantment would expel any attempting to enter. At high velocity. When they were younger, Stanis had joked that they should set up a betting pool around how far the guards sent by the Marquess would fly, like skipping stones.
   The woman froze mid-step and turned back to face Rosaline, her face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. “This Castle belongs to the Thorne family. How dare a lowly thing like you attempt to deny them or their rightful servants’ use of anything within its walls!” The maid blustered.
    Turning her attention from the older woman still standing silently, Rosaline finally looked at the maid properly.
    Aaah- another new one. How many has it been now? Fifteen or sixteen? 
   The poor woman had no idea what was in store for her, trying so hard to please her mistress. That same woman would make her disappear soon enough. Just as soon as she overheard the wrong conversation, or as soon as the Marquess took too much of an interest in her. 
   “You are new to your post, so I will warn you this once. The Marquess and his wife may rule the Castle, but there are two chambers within that do not belong to them. If you doubt that, feel free to try your luck to enter without their true owner’s permission. Perhaps you’ll fare better than the countless knights and guards that the Marquess sent.”
   “Enough, Rosa.” The woman finally spoke, drawing attention back to herself. She used a weary tone, reminiscent of an adult accustomed to placating a difficult child. “Leave it be, Helga. It is of no importance at this point. I have an important matter to discuss with you, Rosa.” The implication that she was dealing with foolish subordinates was clear. At her words, the maid’s flush deepened, but she dutifully stepped back, positioning herself slightly in front of her mistress, obviously intending to shield her should this unruly young woman try to harm the lady. 
     “Feel free to speak your piece. I will provide my professional opinion as requested.” Rosaline crossed her arms and leaned against the corridor wall.
    “This is a - ” The woman cleared her throat delicately, pointedly turning her gaze towards the door to the stillroom. “Sensitive subject. We should adjourn to your workroom so that we might speak freely.”
    “Unfortunately, I’ll have to insist that we conduct our consultation here. I am currently in the process of decocting a formula that would be detrimental to the Marquess’s wife’s health if she were to breathe it in.” Rosaline’s tone dripped with false concern. “I am sure my life would be worth less than nothing if I were to harm a Thorne. Especially within the very walls that were built to protect them.” The sarcasm in her tone was evident, and the maid bristled again.
    The older woman only paled slightly at her words. Then her lips firmed into a line, and she pressed again, “Rosa, I really feel that I must insist. The topic I must discuss with you is not one that I feel comfortable discussing while still so exposed.”
   “I would never dream of keeping the Marquess’s wife from entering any room that she chooses. Feel free to cross the threshold whenever you wish.” She gestured vaguely at the door while not moving an inch. The maid, assuming that Rosaline had finally seen sense, adopted an expression of smug superiority and stepped forward again, striding towards the door. “I, however, will be remaining out here.” She said, just as the maid’s foot would have crossed the threshold. Instead, without a sound, the maid was flung backwards onto her backside hard enough to slide across the corridor. Her slight frame slammed into the opposite wall, leaving a path through the dust on the floor as if it had just been scrubbed. 
    Selena, accustomed to Rosaline’s defiance of her orders, had not moved, waiting for her to lead the way. Seeing the dazed maid trying to raise herself from the heap she had formed on the ground, she didn’t bat an eye. “Fine, Rosa. If you must insist on speaking in the open, I’ll be brief. The matter we discussed before has become…complicated.” The older woman searched for vague words. “The Marquess and I administered the… medicine… as the other apothecary instructed, but the results were not what we expected.” Rosaline maintained an impassive expression, and the woman took this as agreement to continue.
    “The potion seemed to be effective at first. The… patient… seemed to show signs of it taking effect, but it progressed much more slowly than expected. Even more unfortunately, lost track of their movements last night, and we were unable to ascertain if any other… effects took place. Today, they appear as if they had never taken any medication at all.” The older woman’s teeth ground as Rosaline merely shrugged indifferently. “We must ensure that they take a… formula that has the required effects but has no side effects of memory loss.”
   “Are you concerned with the ‘patient’s’ health?” Rosaline snorted in derision, causing the woman’s mask of serenity to show its first crack as she glanced furtively up and down the hallway at Rosaline’s words. “Now you are concerned with the ‘effects’ of the drugs you slip to perfectly healthy young men? Or is it that you can’t make them take responsibility for deeds done to your own daughter that they don’t remember that concerns you?”
   “Rosa! Discretion must be maintained!” Patience obviously worn thin, the woman attempted to shush her.
   “I believe I was quite clear that I would not be participating in this farce. If your pet apothecary was not up to the task, I will not be your new pawn.” She finally pushed away from the wall and turned her back on the woman, signaling that she felt the conversation was over.
    “Remember what openly defying me might cost you, Rosaline!” The menacing tone in the woman’s voice had her pausing and turning back to look at her once more with an eyebrow cocked. “You are of age now. Headstrong women like yourself often settle down once married to the right man.” A look of satisfied malice crossed the woman’s face as she saw her barb land. She flicked her eyes to the side, taking in the still stunned state of the maid before stepping forward and lowering her voice and hissing, “I have already had a few conversations on the matter with your fa-“
  “Enough!” Rosaline interrupted her, unable to hide her frustration. Seeing how pleased her outburst made the woman, she took a moment to breathe deeply, then forced her expression into an indifferent mask. “The Marquess’s wife has long reminded me that nothing in the Castle belongs to me, so calling him that now only makes you an even bigger hypocrite. What exactly is it you wish for me to do?”
   A triumphant smile spread across the woman’s face at her capitulation. “That’s better. I need you to find out what might have gone wrong and make a better version of the original mixture. This time, I want nothing to go wrong.”
    “Fine.” Not a flicker of emotion passed across Rosaline’s face as she held her hand out. “I’ll need a sample of the original drug used and the method you used to administer it to the Duke.” 
     “The other apothecary had us dissolve the mixture in alcohol and paint the inside of his wineglass. The wine we used was an excellent vintage, and the Marquess’s glass was poured from the same bottle with no ill effects.” She chuckled, so pleased that she forgot to maintain her earlier caution discussing the matter. She placed a small linen pouch in Rosaline’s waiting hand. “Once my daughter has become mistress of the Keep, I’ll be sure to discuss your own situation with my husband.” Selena chuckled, then, after a last glance, she swept down the hallway. “Come, Hilda.” She said to the maid who had just staggered to her feet. 
    Rosaline snorted at the blatant disregard for the servant who had been so fiercely defending her mistress just a few minutes ago. No reason for that woman to remember her name. After what she had overheard, this one will be gone by the end of the day. 
    She reentered the stillroom, closing the door firmly behind herself and walking straight back to the cabinet.
    Opening the doors, she locked eyes with the man inside. “That should be more than sufficient to prove to Your Grace that I was not involved in this ridiculous scheme.” She tossed the pouch towards him and then turned away.
    Behind her, Edmund caught the pouch, an eyebrow raised. “I will concede that it appears you had nothing to do with the drugging itself. Though the Marchioness’s threats do reveal a possible motive for taking advantage of the situation.” 
    Rosaline snorted and began gathering the herbs she would need, paying him very little attention. “Your Grace, why on earth do you think that the wife of the Marquess would actually lower herself to arrange a marriage for a servant?”
    “That is an interesting question. I had wondered why the Marchioness thought that would be an effective threat. A servant faced with such a tactic could just leave their employment. Unless the South has instituted laws for indenture that the rest of the Kingdom is not aware of?” Refusing to turn, she continued her work, portioning out some galeinium onto a small scale while she felt him looming behind her. 
     “No, Your Grace. No such laws exist here. My situation, however, is not one you need to concern yourself with. If I had not made myself clear before, let me reiterate once again.” Here she finally turned, facing him and locking her gaze with those fascinating eyes while steadfastly refusing to be drawn in this time. “I have no intention of attaching myself to you in any fashion. I do not covet the position of Duchess of the North, nor do I have any designs on your person.” She imbued her tone with as much finality as she could. “And as for the threat of a ducal heir being conceived from last night’s folly- Look around you. The most often requested concoction an apothecary learns is pennyroyal tea. I can assure you that mine is sufficiently effective, and I always have more than enough in stock.” With a final shrug, she turned back to her work, expecting him to finally give up and leave.
   Instead, a low, menacing chuckle came from behind her, before an arm came down on either side of her, hands gripping the table’s edge as he caged her in with his body. “It appears that you are under the illusion that you have the power to make the final decision.” A voice like a frozen wind from the North whispered past her ear. The warmth of his body, compared to the iciness of his tone, sent conflicting shivers down her spine. His large body engulfed hers, and for a moment, she was lost in the memories of being held in his arms last night. Because they were not entirely unpleasant, she ruthlessly shoved those memories down. 
   I’m letting him off the hook. Is he just being obstinate on principle?
    “Your Grace was just pointing out that indenture is illegal in the Kingdom. Do you now wish to use your own threats to force me into some form of submission? I have gone out of my way to prove that I was not part of this scheme and have also gone to great lengths to assure you that I will not attempt to tie myself to you either with accusations or the threat of an illegitimate heir. Yet that does not appear to be enough. I have to ask - what is it that you want from me, Your Grace?”