Claimed By The Tyrant King

The next morning, when Rosalind awoke, she sat at the edge of the bed with dark circles beneath her eyes and her hair in disarray. Reaching for the glass of water on the table beside her, she had barely lifted it before it slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor with a sharp sound.

She let out a quiet breath and ran a hand through her tangled hair as she bent down to gather the shattered pieces, while the water spread in thin streams across the floorboards.

Just then, the door opened, and Rowan stepped inside.

She glanced up from beside the bed only to find him already moving toward her, before she looked back down and reached for another shard.

"Good morning, my lady," he said, his voice calm as ever, though his eyes immediately fell to her hands. "You should not be picking that up yourself."

Rosalind resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though they narrowed slightly at how quickly he had appeared after hearing the crash.

"I have it under control," she said, but the moment her fingers touched the next shard, it sliced across her skin.

She hissed softly as bright red blood welled at the cut, and Rowan was at her side in an instant. "You are bleeding," he said, his tone sharper now, and for a brief moment his fingers moved toward his pocket as he remembered the balm she had given him the previous night.

Yet before he could bring it out, Rosalind lifted her finger to her lips and instinctively drew the blood away with a her mouth.

Rowan stilled at once, something unreadable flashing across his face before letting his hand fall away from the balm still tucked in his pocket.

Instead, he crouched down to gather the broken glass himself.

Rosalind’s gaze shifted to him, and a frown immediately touched her face as she watched him use the very hands she had treated the night before. "I told you not to use your hands," she said, but Rowan did not so much as look up as he continued gathering the shards. "And yet you are the one who needs attending to," he replied evenly.

Her lips pressed together because she knew he was right and Rosalind took a sit on the bed as there was nothing to do.

Once he had finished, Rowan wrapped the broken glass in paper before disposing it.

When he straightened again, Rosalind asked with concern in her eyes. "How are your hands now?" she asked quietly, and his gaze lingered on her face longer than it normally would before he answered. "They are faring well, my lady."

Rowan’s attention remained fixed on her, taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the exhaustion that clung to her face. The thought that Alaric had been the cause of her sleeplessness sat bitterly in his chest.

"Did you sleep at all, my lady?" he found himself asking, and Rosalind blinked in surprise at the question.

"Not much," she admitted, and something darkened in Rowan’s expression, though it passed so quickly it was almost impossible to catch.

His gaze drifted lower. This time the crescent mark at her collarbone was far clearer than it had been before and every lingering doubt within him hardened into certainty.

When Rowan lifted his eyes back to her face, he realized too late that Rosalind had already noticed where he had been looking. He froze for a heartbeat, unease flickering through him at the thought that she might misunderstand his stare.

That had not been his intention.

Only then did Rosalind glance down at herself and realize she was still wearing the red dress from the night before. At once, she turned her back to him, her brows drawing together as embarrassment prickled across her skin. "You may leave," she said, the words coming out sharper than she had intended.

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Rowan’s own expression. "Yes, my lady," he said at once before retreating from the room.

Moments later Rosalind heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him, and only then did she release the breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

Her fingers drifted to her collarbone, brushing over the skin there as she wondered what exactly Rowan had been staring at.

****

A soft knock sounded at the door, pulling her from her thoughts, and before she could even call for the person to enter, the door opened to reveal Verity and Thalia stepping inside.

Both women wore expressions of concern, their eyes immediately searching her face as they crossed the room and came to stand beside the bed. "Rosalind... how are you doing?" Verity asked first, while Thalia stood beside her with worry in her eyes.

"We wanted to come and see you last night," Verity continued, "but your footman said you were exhausted and needed rest, so we had no choice but to return and come back this morning."

Realization flickered across Rosalind’s face as she glanced briefly at the door. She quickly forced a small smile onto her lips, hoping to ease the tension written across both their faces.

"I am fine," Rosalind said, her voice steadier than she truly felt. "And I did not sustain any injuries." she added.

Verity visibly exhaled in relief, one hand pressing against her chest, while Thalia’s shoulders relaxed immediately....

"But would you believe it was only after you left that the guards finally returned with buckets of water?" Thalia asked, and Rosalind turned to her in surprise. The thought of it was almost absurd, foolish and horrifying at the same time, and Thalia continued with a shake of her head. "After wasting so much time... just imagine if the footman hadn’t been there."

Verity quickly lifted a hand as if to cut off the image before it could fully settle in any of their minds. "Let us be thankful that she is safe," she said, her tone firm and unwilling to dwell on what might have happened.

Rosalind nodded in agreement, and Thalia did the same, both of them offering a silent thanks that the worst had been avoided.

Then Verity broke the brief silence that followed, her gaze shifting thoughtfully toward Rosalind. "When you think about it, your footman truly cares about you. No one would do something like that without thinking twice."

Rosalind swallowed, her mind drifted back to the way Rowan had been looking at her earlier that morning. The memory unsettled her in a way she could not explain. "I do not know," she said at last, keeping her voice light.

"Maybe he was simply alert because it is his duty," Thalia said."The king would have had him beheaded if anything had happened to you, especially since he was personally assigned to you. We all know His Majesty does not joke when it comes to you."

Rosalind couldn’t help but admit there was logic in that. There was no reason for him to care about her personally. It had likely been nothing more than duty.

"Or... having a footman is not so bad after all," Verity said with a sly smile, casting Rosalind a knowing look that made her press her lips together.

While Thalia insisted it had only been duty, Verity seemed determined to imply something else entirely. Yet whichever it was, Rosalind told herself it did not matter.