“What is it that you want from me, Your Grace?”
    The woman’s words rang in his ears, dousing the irrational fury that had flooded him. When she had so casually discussed destroying a child that might not even exist, a base instinct had taken over, and he had reacted without thinking.
    All morning, he had been maintaining a veneer of calm calculation, but underneath a storm of impotent anger and a festering anxiety had been brewing. It had only gotten worse since he had come face to face with her. Somehow, she slipped past his vaunted self-control and prodded him in exactly the right way to get a reaction.
     Her question had penetrated deep enough to allow a moment of calm in the eye of that storm, to allow him to leave instinct behind and honestly consider his answer.
    Truly, what did he want? 
    The truth was, he, himself, was unsure of what he was trying to accomplish here. Most noblemen in his position would take her assurances and beat a hasty retreat. Her confusion at his behavior was more than understandable. 
    He could try to hide behind the excuse of upholding his pride, but that wouldn’t withstand scrutiny. No one would believe that His Grace, Duke Edmund Drake, Protector of the North and last Spellblade, would care about her opinion of him beyond how it would influence his ability to achieve his own goals. However, the thought that she placed him in the same class with such boorish louts inexplicably set his teeth on edge. 
    When he had left his chamber that morning, the most he had hoped for was to find the woman who had shared his bed and to discern how bad the situation truly was. Briefly, he had harbored hope that he might find a way to work the situation to his advantage, but hadn’t truly expected anything.
   His initial plan, once he found the woman, was to make arrangements to spirit them out of the Keep. That was for their own safety and to ensure that no further trickery was employed. While he may not be happy with the situation, even he had to admit that whoever the woman was, they had helped him to avoid a much more dire outcome. 
     He shuddered to think how far things could spiral out of control if he had truly fallen into the clutches of the Thornes. Once it was confirmed there was no child, he felt that offering to arrange a husband and dowry for the unfortunate woman in the North would not only uphold his honor but also serve as a reward for the help they had unwittingly provided.
   If they were already carrying a child, well, what happened then would depend on the woman’s temperament. As the last Drake and only living Spellblade, having an heir was paramount, as the Council of Elders consistently reminded him. He was firmly of the opinion that if the Kingdom did not outlaw bigamy, that group of old schemers would have long ago set up a harem stocked with their own relatives and turned him out to stud. At least if the number of their daughters and nieces that they had tried to plant in his father’s bed had been any indication. 
      If there were a child, he would need to ensure that his heir was legitimate to stave off future complications and interference. He would have no choice but to marry the mother. However, whether or not the woman survived the marriage would depend entirely on her own character. 
    If the woman’s character was acceptable, he would abandon thoughts of a political alliance and do his best to fulfill his duties as a husband. However, if the woman were a scheming climber, then once the child was safely delivered, he would swiftly become a widower and eventually remarry.
     Truthfully, he had harbored a small hope that the woman would turn out to be a simple, easy-to-control maid. Considering all the external pressures on the Keep right now, the advantages of acquiring a Duchess with no powerful outside ties were not lost on Edmund. With all the vultures that had been circling, hoping to pick the bones of the Drakes clean for the past decades after his father refused to remarry, an alliance with a house with any power of its own would be a gamble.
    That was why he had been continuing to push off any talk of marriage for as long as possible. Though he knew that his time on that front was running out, he had hoped to be able to spend time assessing the choices for another year or two. 
      However, even that plan was shaky at best. The real threat was that the Royal Family would maneuver him into a match with a family under their control, and the North would fall completely into their hands within a generation. With the recent rumors of Princess Alexandria preparing to drop herself onto his doorstep, Edmund could practically feel the clock ticking down. There had already been a lot of dissatisfied rumblings in the Consistory of Noble Houses about two of the Cardinal Houses being in such dire straits. Especially these two houses. 
    The Rothchildes in the West had long been locked away in their academy in the West, while the Starlings in the East rarely ventured out of their desert citadel. Both had long turned away from the management of the rest of the Kingdom beyond the required gathering for the Concordant every five years. Beyond that, there terrirtories consisted of a barren desert and misty swampland. 
     The South, however, was the breadbasket of the Kingdom, its fields filled with the grains and vegetables that sustained the other provinces, while the North held its military might. Controlling either would grant unheard of power to whoever could lay claim to it. 
     The Hallowfields had effectively swallowed the Thornes already after the death of the Marchioness, and few believed that the current Marquis, Sebastian, would cede any authority to whoever claimed his daughter. Unless she were to spawn a new generation of Spirit Masters, but that possibility was over fifteen years in the future. Instead, with his father’s death leaving him alone and presumably vulnerable, those with covetous eyes turned towards the North.
     The military power honed over centuries by the Drakes, however, could not be so easily scooped up. The loyalty of the northern knights was legendary. They held fealty first to the North, then to the Drakes, and only after that to the Kingdom itself. An outsider attempting to take control of the region would be met with the sharp point of a thousand blades. 
    However, if he were to make the wrong choice in a wife, as soon as his heir manifested his first blade spark, all it would take would be a well-placed assassin, and control of the North would fall into the maternal line’s hands. No one would have calculated this faster than the Blackstones. 
     It had been two centuries since the first Rivenscar King had gathered the Cardinal Founders, and the bond of camaraderie and trust had waned more with each successive generation. Now, the Blackstones were not even subtle about their wariness of the Cardinal Houses. Nor did they hide their ambition to fully control them.
    With the Drakes and the Thornes at their weakest, he was sure that the eldest royal children, Alexandra and Alexander, as twins eternally locked in a struggle for the throne, would not miss the opportunity to prove their right to rule by bringing at least one of the two under their control. The Consistory, however, would not so easily let the Royal Family concentrate their power. 
    As things stood, no matter who became the mistress of Wyvern’s Rest Keep, there would be political upheaval.
     In truth, on the surface, bringing Rosa to the North only worked in Edmund’s favor. Not only was the girl of humble birth, but she was brilliantly gifted at her craft and had demonstrated, despite his initial suspicions, that she was principled enough to withstand pressure even from those in power. If he could sway her loyalty to his side, he could, at the very least, gain a valuable ally.
    Her repeated refusals were even more reassuring. She was wise enough to realize that the position of his Duchess was not without its dangers and pitfalls. If she did end up bearing him a child, he could rest assured that she would feel a vested interest in keeping him alive, rather than killing him.
    That same skill was a double-edged sword, though. If he were unable to gain her loyalty, then those same skills and intelligence would be like a sword of Damocles hanging over his head. If he were ever to truly earn her displeasure, he would never be able to eat or drink without worry again. Somehow, though, these concerns didn’t seem to prevent the impulse to immediately bundle her up and drag her back to the keep from surfacing, or prevent him from acting on those impulses when she provoked him.
     These thoughts raced through his mind in only a few moments as he gazed down into her eyes, that irrational part of his brain noting again how the gold flecks scattered through the green made it seem like they glowed from within. For her part, the woman held his gaze steadily, waiting quietly for his answer.
   With a flash of insight, he realized that she believed that if she were just patient enough, he would see the folly of his current tack and revert to the expected behavior. This epiphany threatened to his frustration off agan, but this time he was able to suppress them.
   He would gain nothing by continuing to provoke her.  Instead, he felt it was time to retreat in order to regroup. As she had pointed out, she readily had the means and expertise to ensure that a child never came to be.
    Perhaps it was being the last of his family, but the thought of a child of his disappearing from the world left a hollow pit in his stomach. It was an outcome that his whole being seemed to reject. Whether that had anything to do with the way she so easily slipped past his defensive wall of rationality- well, he would add that to the list of things the many things he needed to spend time considering.
     The conversation she had with the Marchioness had left him with many questions.
    For now, he needed to ensure that his potential child was safe, then he would regroup with Arthur, and they would plan from there.
     “As I am sure you know, I am the last of my line. If I were to die, the Northern territory would fall into chaos, and even the Kingdom itself could be destabilized.” He stated rationally. “Therefore, I must insist that you refrain from threatening the life of a potential heir to the Duchy.” However, he did not back away, keeping her caged in front of him while watching her face.
    “I am sure there are any number of noble ladies who would gladly become the mother of the next Duke. There is no need for you to debase yourself by accepting an heir of humble birth.” She countered.
    “The North is not as concerned with class as the South. An heir is an heir, no matter who their mother is.” He continued, infusing his tone with as much finality as he could. “As such, I will need to insist. If I cannot trust that you won’t rashly choose to do something unwise, I will have to petition the Marquis to take reqlenquish you to my custody and leave for the Keep immediately.” He saw her pale slightly at the mention of the Marquis.
    “Well, Your Grace, I see that it doesn’t take long for the threats to arrive,” she huffed. He felt a small amount of satisfaction as her eyes narrowed in a glare. 
     “Don’t consider it a threat. I am merely ensuring that you understand the reality of the situation.” He allowed himself a small smile, which seemed to infuriate her further if the red flush rising in her cheeks was any indication. It seemed there was a downside to having skin like fresh cream. How diverting. 
     “If you think-“ 
     “No need for you to get so flustered, Rosa. There is a simple solution to both our problems.” He calmly interrupted her. “It is an old custom of the North, one that any knight will honor without question.” Here he paused to draw his sword, Falkor, from its sheath.  “Simply swear an oath upon a knight’s sword.” 
     He saw her tense up, and her eyes flicked between his face and the now naked blade held in his hand. To alleviate her obvious concern that he was about to threaten her life, he twisted the blade to hold it in front of his own chest.
     The look on her face made it clear she didn’t believe it was that simple, and she seemed to be weighing the possible outcomes.
     “Come now. The price of a few words can buy my silence. Unless you would prefer I consult the Marquis. I do believe that he had mentioned arranging a private meeting at some point this afternoon…” He let his voice trail off, stoking the flames of her anxiety, holding the sword steadily between them.
     His prodding was effective as she fired back, “If I swear, will Your Grace also swear an oath not to mention ever meeting me to the Marquis, or any inhabitant of the Castle?”
     Interesting that this was the crux of her concern.
     Edmund could easily give up this bargaining chip to gain her oath. “Of course. I will even swear my own oath to that effect. Provided that you swear that you will take no action to prevent the birth of any child that might be created between us.” He saw her nod in agreement, as if this was what she expected, and reach her hand out towards Falkor. Before her fingertips could touch the steel, he spoke again, making her pause. “That oath, of course, will buy you my silence. The silence of my attendants, however…” He once again let his voice trail off.
     “How would a servant dare to disturb his master’s privacy?” She scoffed.
     “How could my closest attendant, whose own quarters are the small chamber adjoined to mine, not notice I didn’t come back to my chambers my first night in the Castle? I would have to have the most incompetent staff in the Kingdom for them not to suspect something.” He said off-handedly, emphasizing this lack of personal concern with a shrug. 
      “No matter how observant or cunning, no servant would dare to defy an order for silence.” She faced him like a stone wall. Apparently, she intended to be stubborn to the end.
      “Oh, I could indeed issue an order for his silence.” He chuckled indulgently at her and watched her eyes narrow to glare at him at the sound. He was starting to really like that look. “However, do you think I’ve been searching for you in the dusty old pile of stones all day by myself?” Watching the realization that an unknown number of his men had been wandering around and asking who knew how many questions to various of the inhabitants of the Castle was entertaining indeed.
    “You- you had others asking questions about me?” She sputtered at him. Now her cheeks were truly flushed with color, the rosy hue beginning to spread downwards towards her neck. Seeing her so obviously flushed with frustration gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.
     Good. Let her stew in the cocktail he’d been marinating in for a change.