4 years later.
The oak door opened. A woman wearing a green dress covered with a white apron came out, the tray she held on her hand filled with blood stained cotton rags, the smell of disinfectants sipping through the door behind her. Her expression was grim. She nodded, and Duchess Magdalena answered her with a similar but more shallow nod.
"Your Grace, I think it's time," said healer Helena von Dirten.
"May I see him then?""Of course Your Grace. The Duke has been asking for Your Grace for a while."
She turned her head to the left and stared at a man standing behind Magdalena. A man with gorgeous red locks, shoulder length and wavy. "And he also wishes to see Rowan."
"It's Master Rowan." corrected Magdalena. And when Healer Helena made a tutting noise, she added. "He's a man, and I understand your displeasement with calling him Master, but he's His Grace's closest confidant. And if I and The Duke wish to call him Master, then I'd better never hear you call him otherwise."
The Healer didn't say anything but gave her nothing more than a curtsy. A non-committal answer. She'd been married to Duke Arn of Kilburn for four years already, but the servant and the tenants in this estate hadn't shown her equal respect as what she was used to getting in Tarsir. Even worse, they seemed to respect her husband more. Something that would never happen in Tarsir. She was the duchess of this estate, and her husband was merely a duke, a man, not her equal. But instead, they all treated her like she was a man.
She accepted it all the same. In the end, if it was not because of her husband, she would be dead by now, in that forest or on the gallows. So she took no offense to how they treated her, she was a spoiled princess but she always knew her place in this foreign territory. Her husband was always the duke of this estate, he was the son of the Queen and King consort of Burnedie, it was only natural that his people adored and respected him. He could be a prince if he didn't have seven sisters. But with seven princesses, his chance of ascending to the throne was slimmer than her chance of going back to Tarsir.
She stepped inside the room. The air was filled with medicines' odor, blood, and death. The curtains were drawn shut, it was known that Duke Arn couldn't handle too much sunlight due to his conditions. Magdalena walked towards the bed where her husband was lying, his breaths were shallow, the pearl of sweat dripping on the side of his head, making his black shaggy hair drenched on the roots. The tips of his hair were damp and oily, his skin waxy.
The moment she came near, Duke Arn turned his head towards her, smiling between his efforts to catch his breath. "Duchess, I would sit up, but I'm afraid that would be impossible"
"Stay down, Your Grace, please." Magdalena took the chair next to the bed and sat there. She grabbed the duke's hand. She never had any affection towards her husband of four years, but she definitely had respect for this man. Their relationship was never of a romantic sort, but rather a cordial one. Now she thought about it, this would be their second time holding hands, the first one was on their wedding day.
"You've asked for me? I heard from healer Helena".
Duke Arn drew a couple short breaths before answering her. "Yes, Your Grace. I'm sorry to disturb you. You must be busy taking over the estate's business. I'd wait but I'm afraid time is a luxury I cannot afford anymore."
She held her husband's hand even tighter. "You are the most important thing right now, Arn."
"You are very kind." he smiled. "Is Master Rowan also here?"
Rowan stood exactly behind Magdalena, but somehow it seemed that Duke Arn couldn't look further than the person who sat next to his bed. Rowan walked towards the other side of the bed. "Yes, Your Grace. I am here to serve you."
"Did you… did you also bring the… the book I asked you?"
"Yes Your Grace, the book is here with me." said Rowan as he pulled a leather bound book out of his cloak front opening.
"Then I wish for everybody except Her Grace and Master Rowan to leave the room."
Magdalena stood up and talked imperiously to the servant in the room. "You heard His Grace, now leave us!"
****
As soon as the servants left the room, Rowan closed the door after making sure that nobody could overhear them.
"Your Grace, if this is about your will, isn't it better to have Marchioness Iurda to be present?" asked Magdalena.
"My will is practically non-existent, My duchess. You are already The Duchess of Kilburn. I am merely your consort, so I have nothing to give to you. These lands, the estate, the golds were already yours the moment you married me, surely you knew that?"
Of Course Magdalena knew that. A man could hold no position, nor possession let alone owning an estate or managing it. Duke Arn was an exception, but that was only because he was the only son of the Queen fathered by her King consort. A queen or an empress rarely got pregnant from their main consort, because usually they got married for political reasons. The position of main consort was sold to the highest bidder who could give the ruling empress or queen stability, or more power, and alliances. Children usually came from side consorts, the consorts the queen married for love. Magdalena was born not from the Emperor consort, but from a concubine.And so was her twin sister, Princess Louisa.
Or should I say, Empress Louisa of Tarsir now.
"But my dear duchess, there is something else I could give you." continued Duke Arn and he passed the book from Rowan to Magdalena. "I could give you Tarsir."