Neve woke up with a start.
She sat upright, disoriented, and realized she was in bed. More specifically, she was neatly tucked into bed, somehow dressed in her night clothes. Neve flushed in shame, realizing Vale must have carried her inside from the carriage. How was she going to face the employees?
Glancing to the window, Neve noted a small amount of light seeping in through the curtains. It must have been early morning still.
She rose to her feet and stretched her body, stiff from the carriage ride. Outside of her room, Neve could hear some movement. Her maids were likely preparing to wake her soon.
Neve walked to the window and pulled the curtains open. Sitting gingerly on the window ledge, she peered outside. Her bedroom overlooked the courtyard and part of the knights' training grounds. She spotted a group of young knights running laps.
'It has been so long since I've trained,' Neve thought wistfully. 'Though I suppose I'll make up for lost time on the battlefield.'
Two soft knocks disrupted Neve's thoughts, pulling her back to reality.
"Lady Neve," a voice called through the door. "Are you awake?"
Neve stood and began to walk to her vanity. "Yes. Please come in."
The Head Maid, Emilie, slipped inside. She was in her fifties, without a family of her own. Emilie had served the Rosentines for over four decades, before Duke Fallon even inherited the duchy. Something like a grandmother to Neve, Emilie chose to accompany her to the Capital those many years ago.
Neve watched Emilie's brown hair turn grey and her hands grow gnarled. And despite Neve's urges, Emilie refused to retire. Her loving maid could not leave Neve alone to face the Royal Court.
"Let me brush your hair, My Lady," Emilie said, her voice warm.
"Very well."
Neve took a seat in front of her vanity, watching Emilie through the mirror as she rearranged Neve's tousled silver hair. Emilie reached for a hairbrush.
"Lord Vale left for the Royal Palace before sunrise," she informed Neve. "He said you will head to Ironhold once he returns."
Sighing, Neve massaged her temple. "I don't know what he expects to accomplish."
"There's more, My Lady," Emilie continued hesitantly.
"Yes?" Neve asked, trying to meet Emilie's reluctant gaze through the mirror. The hairbrush snagged on a knot and Neve winced. "Well, tell me. It can't be much worse than what happened last night."
Emilie smiled softly, tucking Neve's neatly brushed hair behind her ears. Then, reaching into her skirts, she pulled out the morning newspaper.
Neve squinted, catching her name in the headline.
"I don't know if it's worse, but it's certainly not great," Emilie said, passing Neve the paper.
She unfolded the flimsy sheets of paper, the bold headline greeting her. The Royal Engagement is Annulled: Prince Claris Exposes the Evil-Doings of Lady Neve Rosentine.
"What is this?" Neve laughed incredulously. She began to skim the rest of the article. "In entirety, Lady Neve Rosentine was accused of mistreatment of other noblewomen, embezzling palace funds, and abusing her authority as the fiancée of the Crown Prince."
Neve stood up, pacing as she read aloud. "The Royal Family is better off without a wench like Lady Neve Rosentine. Instead, the Crown Prince's new conquest is the perfect image of posterity, humility, and beauty."
She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry out in anger or burst out laughing. The situation was as infuriating as it was absurd.
"Who exactly is Lady Gemma Henmar? Learn more about this recent debutante."
"Surely the rumours will die down, My Lady," Emilie reassured, though she was not entirely convincing. The maid reached over, plucking the newspaper from Neve's hands. She placed it on the vanity. "Now, let's get you dressed. You will be departing in a few hours."
Neve sighed and sat on her bed, watching as Emilie dug through her closet.
"You'll be arriving in Blackburn Village first. It won't be as severe as Ironhold, but it's still much colder than the Capital," Emilie fretted. "Now where are your winter dresses?"
Blackburn Village, named after the fires that decimated it centuries ago, was the halfway point between the Capital and Ironhold. It was a small place, mostly home to tradespeople. Though Blackburn did have a decent sized merchant show due to the many travel routes that intersected it.
"Just give me something plain," Neve said. "I don't want to attract more attention than absolutely necessary."
Emilie paused, frowning at Neve's reservedness. "Of course, My Lady."
–––
Neve watched from the drawing room, calmly sipping a cup of tea, as Vale returned to the residence in a chaotic flurry of movement.
He stormed down the hall, not spotting Neve. His attendant, Thomas, ran after him. He looked to be carrying a balled up piece of paper in his hands.
"Sir, this is treasonous!" Thomas cried, his voice falling on deaf ears.
'A notarized imperial order?' Neve wondered. 'Queen Elise moves quickly.'
Neve chuckled slightly, setting down her tea on the nearby table. Beside it was the morning newspaper, which Neve had brought with her for some reason. Perhaps the article had weighed more heavily on her mind than she initially thought.
"Neve!"
She looked up. Vale stood in the entryway, his face still tense with anger. He had put on a heavier coat in preparation for the perpetual northern winter.
"Are you ready to leave?" he asked. "We're already running behind."
Neve stood up. "Yes, I am ready. The maids already prepared our luggage and loaded the carriage."
"Good," Vale replied.
Without thinking, Neve picked up the newspaper as she exited. Vale glanced down at her hand, nothing missing his attentive eye.
"Why are you still holding onto that garbage?" Vale questioned, scrunching his nose with distaste. "It's just a gossip column."
"I'm bringing it with me for some light reading," Neve quipped. "This issue was quite entertaining."
Vale rolled his eyes. "Just be patient for the time being. We must play into the Queen's hands until we have a better sense of her plans."
"Easy for you to say, brother," Neve scoffed. "You're the one who destroyed the notarized imperial order, not me."
"You saw that?" Vale demanded, the tips of his ears turning red. "Anyway, that was due to a lapse of judgement. Don't ever think about doing something like that."
"I wouldn't dare," Neve said dryly.
The servants bowed and curtsied as the Rosentine siblings passed through the hall. The residence was brimming with activity in preparation for their departure.
They reached the foyer, where Thomas, Emilie, and Vale's page were waiting. Emilie was holding Neve's cloak, which was Rosentine's grey and blue colours. The hood was lined with a thick, white pelt.
Neve bowed her head so Emilie could drape the cloak over her shoulders. It settled, its heaviness a familiar comfort. It had been many months since Neve had visited Ironhold, thus having no need for the cloak until recently.
"Thank you, Emilie," Neve said, straightening.
Vale offered Neve his arm. "Let us depart."