Claimed By The Tyrant King

Rosalind stared at the clay set before her, a bowl of water by her side and the spinning wheel waiting. Lady Evelina clapped her hands to gather their attention and said, "While the rest of the world is busy, we must also remain occupied and not grow idle," her tone calm and firm as usual, before continuing, "Today’s lesson is simple. POTTERY. so you will not be needing your gloves, as we will be working with our bare hands," and a faint smile touched her lips without reaching her eyes.

One by one, they removed their gloves so they would not be stained, and Evelina’s gaze settled on Thalia’s bandaged hand as she said, "You may sit this one out, it would not be wise to work with injured hands," to which Thalia nodded and stepped aside quietly to watch from the corner.

"Now we begin. Simply follow my instructions, this is not difficult," Lady Evelina said as she leaned toward the clay before her, and the others watched closely as she demonstrated.

"You can shape many things from this. Jugs, pots, cups, vase, items that can be used later or kept for decoration," she explained, her hands already at work. Rosalind watched as Evelina pressed and folded the clay repeatedly until it softened, and Evelina added, "This removes air from within, so it does not crack later. Now, do the same."

Rosalind’s fingers pressed into the clay lightly at first, almost absent-mindedly, and Evelina’s voice cut in at once, "We are not here to play, Lady Rosalind," which made her sigh inwardly before she began kneading it properly, folding and pressing it over and over until time slipped by without notice.

"Next, place it on the wheel," Evelina instructed as she set hers at the center, and they followed, guiding the clay into place with steady hands so it would not shift. "Keep your hands firm and balanced at all times, even the slightest mistake can ruin the shape," she added, watching them closely.

"Control the pressure with your fingers depending on what you wish to form," she continued, pressing into her own clay as she spoke. "Too little will not take shape. Too much will collapse. Now, press into the center to open it."

Her gaze shifted suddenly to Claire, who was shaping hers, and Evelina said, "That is a very interesting form," drawing attention at once. Claire glanced down and flushed when she noticed she had made a certain male body part.

She quickly attempted to fix it as she said, "I will correct it, Lady Evelina," and silence settled again as everyone returned to their work, while Thalia watched from the side and Rowan stood at a distance, his gaze fixed on Rosalind, who seemed far more entertained than focused.

Rosalind found herself enjoying the way the clay responded to her touch, the surface dipping and shifting beneath her fingers, and a faint smile formed on her lips before Evelina remarked, "For once, Lady Rosalind is doing something correctly," causing the others to glance over.

Rosalind looked up in surprise, and the moment broke her focus as her hands pressed too firmly and the clay wavered out of shape.

"Or not," Evelina said flatly before returning to her own work, leaving Rosalind to start again.

The lesson continued as Evelina instructed, "Lift the sides gently, pulling the clay upward between your fingers while the wheel spins," demonstrating as she spoke, while Sabine and Verity worked with ease, needing little correction.

"Keep the walls even all around so it does not weaken, then guide the shape inward or outward as needed," she added, shaping her own piece smoothly before continuing, "Use water to reduce friction and smooth the surface as you work."

Her voice softened slightly as she went on, "You may correct any dents while it is still spinning," and Rosalind, now more careful, shaped hers again until it began to take form, though just as she held it steady, the clay split under her hands, and she quickly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, relieved to find Evelina still speaking as she quietly started over once more.

"A thin string is used to remove the piece from the wheel," Evelina concluded, "and then it is left to dry before being fired in a kiln to harden."

By the end of the lesson, Sabine had formed a bowl, Verity had shaped a cup, and Claire was beginning to get the hang of hers, while Rosalind remained where she was, blowing a strand of hair from her face as she kneaded the clay yet again.

"That’s all for today. Those of you who did well are excused, while those who have yet to produce anything useful will remain until they do," Lady Evelina said, her gaze settling directly on Rosalind before shifting to Claire.

Within minutes, the room emptied until only Rosalind and Claire remained, both still working on their clay. When Claire eventually finished, she handed her piece to a servant, who carried it away with care.

Without sparing Rosalind a glance, she rose, washed her hands, and left, the servants trailing behind her, leaving Rosalind alone to her fate as it seemed she would only leave when night fell.

The door shut behind them with a sharp sound, and Rosalind glanced in its direction before turning back to her clay with renewed determination to finish quickly and leave.

"This is so unfair," Rosalind muttered in frustration when her clay collapsed again. She had been so close to shaping the bowl, and yet it fell apart at the last moment. Her brows drew together as she kneaded the clay again, her arms beginning to ache with the effort.

Rowan remained silent nearby. He could have offered advice, but the way Rosalind handled the clay made her frustration obvious, and he knew better than to interrupt.

Rosalind slowed her movements, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced to the side. How could she forget him? He was capable, and she was certain he knew how to do this, which meant he could help her.

"Rowan?" she called, her voice hesitant for the first time since what had happened between them, as they had both been avoiding each other.

"Yes, my lady?" he replied in his usual tone.

For some reason, the way he addressed her didn’t sit right with her, "Do you know how to do this?" she asked instead, without turning to face him.

"Just a little," he answered.

"Then help me. Everyone else is gone, and I’m the only one left here," she said, a slight edge of pleading in her voice.

He didn’t respond immediately. "Are you asking me to make it for you?" he asked instead, and her brows creased at the direction he had taken. "That would be considered cheating."

"Oh... I didn’t know," Rosalind said flatly, finally turning to look at him, but the moment their eyes met, warmth rushed to her face, and she quickly looked back at the clay.

"If my lady needs guidance, I can offer that," he said.

Guidance. Rosalind almost scoffed.

But considering she was getting nowhere on her own, she gave in. "Fine."

Rowan moved from where he stood and approached her, and Rosalind felt her heart quicken as he drew closer.

"Apologies, my lady," he said, and she wondered what he meant until he stepped behind her, his presence close as his hands settled over hers to guide them against the clay. Rosalind drew in a quiet breath, her heart reacting in a way she didn’t understand as a strange warmth spread through her.

****

Rowan caught her scent from this distance, something soft and warm that unsettled his focus. Her hair fell slightly forward, her breathing uneven, and though he felt the same shift within himself, he kept his composure, even as it began to slip.

All his effort to keep distance after what had happened between them seemed to weaken the moment he stepped closer, as though something unseen kept pulling him back to her.

"Hold still," he said softly as he reached for water, adding it to the clay before guiding her hands again. Their fingers moved together, pressing and shaping as the wheel spun beneath them, and for once the form held steady.

Rosalind noticed how carefully he handled her hands, gentle in every way.

They treat you with care... Verity’s words returned to her as the clay continued to turn beneath their touch.

Soon, the bowl began to take shape, and they worked together to smooth out the uneven edges.

Rosalind thought inwardly that now was a good time to ask what she needed to ask.

"Rowan?" her voice came out softer this time.

"Hm," he responded, and the low sound sent a small flutter through her chest.

"I’ve been meaning to ask something," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she searched for the right words.

"Yes, my lady," he replied as their fingers worked steadily across the clay.

Rosalind hesitated, then pushed herself to speak. "Do you... like me?" she asked, her heart pounding loudly in her ears after she had said it.

His hands stilled.

Rosalind swallowed hard, her mind racing with questions as the silence stretched longer.

Why did she ask that?

But why shouldn’t she? He had kissed her. He had made her feel something real and she needed to know.

Rosalind’s fingers slowed against the clay. "Should I take your silence as a yes?" she asked.

"No."

That made her pause, and for a moment neither of them moved, the only sound being the wheel turning.

She turned towards him. "Say it properly. Do you like me or not?"

Rowan didn’t answer immediately. His hands left the clay, and he straightened fully as if putting distance between them would help him think. "I can’t."

Rosalind frowned slightly. "That’s not an answer."

"It is," Rowan muttered, his voice firm. "Liking you will get us killed and you know that."

A heavy silence followed, that even the wheel seemed louder. "Is that all you’re thinking about?" she asked, stepping away from the wheel. "There’s always a way...."

"There isn’t," he said, his voice sharper now, like he was drawing a line he refused to cross. "I’m just a footman, my lady. There’s nothing I could possibly give you"

"That’s not your decision to make," she said, stepping closer. "You don’t understand... you make me feel safe, feel, protected... like I’m not alone. Like I matter. Like I’m wanted... That’s not nothing"

That made his expression change just slightly, but enough. "Rosalind,"

"I don’t care what you think you can or can’t give me," she continued, not backing off. "I just want to know if you’ll try."

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, controlled, but it had started to break at the edges. "You have no idea how much I want to."

Something in her chest lifted at that.

"I want to be there for you," he said, slower now, like each word cost him something. "I want to take away all that causes you pain"

"And I too, Rowan" Rosalind’s eyes searched his.

Rowan’s gaze darkened, "My lady, you don’t know what you’re asking for," he said, his voice low.

"I do," she answered without hesitation. "And stop calling me your lady. Start treating me like your woman."

He assessed her for a brief moment, clearly not expecting her to be this clear about what she wanted and slowly whatever restraint he had left slipped as his hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.