Damned by Him

Rosaline woke slowly to the steady movement of the carriage, her consciousness returning in fragments as the rhythmic sound of wheels rolling against the uneven road reached her ears and the gentle sway of the vehicle reminded her that they were still travelling, although for several moments she remained perfectly still with her eyes closed, unwilling to immediately acknowledge the embarrassing position she had fallen asleep in.

Her head was resting somewhere warm.

Somewhere far softer than the cold carriage window she remembered leaning against.

And unfortunately, she knew exactly where that somewhere was.

Rosaline’s lashes fluttered.

Her heartbeat immediately began to betray her.

Xandros.

She could still remember his voice near her ear.

You know I can hear your heartbeat, don’t you?

The memory alone was enough to make warmth creep into her cheeks.

Rosaline remained perfectly still for another moment, pretending that she had not yet awakened, but the longer she lay there, the more ridiculous she began to feel, and eventually she slowly opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the dark interior of the carriage.

The second thing she saw was Xandros looking down at her.

Rosaline froze.

His gaze was already on her.

There was no surprise in his expression, no indication that she had caught him watching her because, judging from the faint amusement resting in his eyes, Xandros had apparently been aware of the exact moment she woke up.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Rosaline stared at him.

Xandros stared back.

Then one corner of his lips slowly lifted. "Good morning." He told her even though it was already evening but then she just woke up.

Rosaline’s face immediately warmed.

She pushed herself upright so quickly that she nearly struck her head against the side of the carriage, and Xandros’ hand moved instinctively toward her back, steadying her before she could embarrass herself further.

"I’m awake," she announced unnecessarily.

"I noticed."

Rosaline cleared her throat and quickly moved away from him, sitting properly on the opposite side of the carriage as she lifted both hands to her face and rubbed at her cheeks, hoping the gesture would somehow erase the warmth that had already spread there.

Xandros continued watching her.

Rosaline could feel it.

She lowered her hands.

"What?"

His brows lifted slightly.

"What?"

"Why are you looking at me?"

"I’m not."

Rosaline gave him a flat look.

"You are."

Xandros leaned back against his seat, looking entirely too comfortable with himself.

"Perhaps I’m simply making sure you’re well."

Rosaline narrowed her eyes.

"You were staring at me."

"I was observing you."

"That’s the same thing."

"I don’t think it is."

"I know it is."

Xandros’ lips twitched.

Rosaline folded her arms across her chest and turned toward the window, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her embarrassed again, although the attempt lasted only a few moments before she stretched her arms above her head, her body still stiff from sleeping during the journey.

A quiet sound escaped her as she stretched.

Xandros glanced toward her.

Rosaline immediately stopped.

"What?"

"You make too many noises."

She slowly turned toward him.

"I was stretching."

"I know."

"Then why are you complaining?"

"I’m not complaining."

Rosaline stared at him suspiciously.

Xandros looked away.

That only made her more suspicious.

Before she could continue the argument, however, the movement of the carriage began to slow.

Rosaline immediately turned toward the window again.

The forest that had surrounded them for most of the journey was beginning to disappear.

The trees gradually gave way to a wider road, and beyond it stood enormous stone walls stretching across the horizon.

Rosaline straightened.

"What is that?"

Xandros followed her gaze.

"The western boundary."

Her eyes widened slightly.

They had arrived.

The Western District.

Rosaline leaned closer to the window as the carriage continued forward, and what she saw immediately caught her attention because the entrance to the district was unlike anything she had seen surrounding central of Dagon or the roads near Everbloom.

Several guards stood before the enormous gates, dressed in dark uniforms marked with the crest of the western territories, while travellers, merchants, and riders moved slowly through different sections of the entrance as their belongings were inspected.

There were horses.

Carriages.

Merchants carrying goods.

Families travelling with carts.

And soldiers standing watch from above the stone walls.

The entire district appeared busy.

Rosaline watched everything with growing curiosity.

"So this is the West?"

"Only the entrance," Xandros replied.

Rosaline turned toward him.

"The entrance is already this crowded."

Xandros nodded slightly.

"The western territories connect several important roads. Anyone travelling between the southern regions, the central kingdoms, and parts of the northern territories eventually passes through here."

Rosaline looked outside again.

"So this place is important."

"Very."

The carriage slowed completely as they approached the gates.

Outside, several guards immediately began moving toward them.

Rosaline noticed the change in their expressions the moment they saw the crest decorating the carriage.

They recognized it.

One of the guards quickly raised his hand.

The carriage came to a complete stop.

Xandros’ expression changed almost immediately.

The amusement that had been present only moments earlier disappeared, replaced by the calm and distant authority Rosaline had seen him wear whenever he was dealing with matters concerning his position.

Rosaline watched him quietly.

It was always strange seeing the difference.

The man who had been teasing her about her heartbeat moments ago now looked like someone entirely different.

The carriage door opened.

A guard lowered his head respectfully.

"Your Grace."

Xandros stepped down first.

Rosaline followed after him, gathering her travelling cloak around herself as she stepped onto the ground, and the cool air immediately touched her face.

Behind them, the second carriage stopped.

Seth climbed down first, stretching his arms dramatically as though he had been imprisoned for several days.

"Finally," he muttered. "I was beginning to believe that carriage would become my permanent home."

Christophine stepped down after him.

"You complained less than usual."

Seth looked at her.

"I was sleeping."

"You snore."

"I do not."

Christophine turned toward Rosaline.

"He does."

"I do not," Seth repeated.

Rosaline covered her mouth, attempting to hide her smile.

Xandros glanced briefly toward them.

"Can the two of you survive five minutes without arguing?"

Christophine smiled innocently.

"No."

Seth sighed.

"I agree with her for once."

Before the argument could continue, movement near the gates drew everyone’s attention.

A group of men was approaching them.

The man walking at the front immediately stood out.

He appeared to be somewhere in his late forties, dressed in dark formal clothing beneath a heavy travelling coat, and although he carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to authority, Rosaline noticed the slight nervousness hidden beneath his movements the moment his eyes landed on Xandros.

Several guards followed behind him.

So did a younger man.

The older man stopped before Xandros and immediately bowed.

"Your Grace."

Xandros did not return the bow.

He simply looked at him.

The man straightened slowly.

"I am Lord Warden Alistair Valecrest," he introduced himself politely. "The appointed Warden of the Western District."

Rosaline’s eyes widened slightly.

So that was what the person ruling the district was called.

A Warden.

Alistair’s attention moved briefly toward her before returning to Xandros.

"I must admit," he continued carefully, "your arrival was unexpected."

Xandros’ expression remained unreadable.

"It was not intended to be announced."

The Warden immediately nodded.

"Of course."

There was something almost overly respectful in his voice now.

Rosaline glanced at Xandros.

The Duke, however, appeared completely uninterested in making the man comfortable.

Alistair cleared his throat.

"Had we known that the Duke of Dagon would be travelling through the district, preparations would have been made much earlier."

"We don’t require preparations."

The answer came so quickly that Rosaline almost looked at him.

Alistair paused.

"Naturally."

Xandros looked toward the gates.

"We require somewhere to stay."

The Warden immediately brightened.

"Of course. Absolutely. The residence will be prepared immediately."

He gestured toward the guards standing behind him.

"You will all be welcomed as honoured guests."

Christophine raised her brows.

Seth leaned slightly toward her.

"He’s terrified."

"I noticed."

Rosaline tried not to smile.

Alistair continued speaking as though he had not heard them.

"And naturally, a feast will be prepared in your honour."

Xandros finally looked directly at him.

"We didn’t come here for a feast."

Alistair’s smile became slightly strained.

"Of course not, Your Grace. But you cannot possibly arrive in the Western District without allowing us the privilege of properly welcoming you."

Xandros remained silent.

The Warden seemed to become even more nervous.

Rosaline watched the interaction for several seconds before quietly stepping closer to Xandros.

"It would be rude to refuse."

Xandros turned toward her.

Rosaline gave him a small look.

He stared at her.

Alistair stared between them nervously.

Then, to Rosaline’s surprise, Xandros finally sighed.

"Okay."

The Warden’s entire expression brightened.

"Wonderful."

Xandros looked at him coldly.

"Don’t make me regret it."

Alistair immediately straightened.

"You won’t."

The younger man standing beside him finally stepped forward.

Rosaline noticed him properly for the first time.

He was tall, with dark brown hair and an appearance considerably more relaxed than his father, and unlike Alistair, who seemed terrified of saying the wrong thing to the Duke of Dagon, the younger man appeared openly curious.

Alistair placed a hand lightly against his shoulder.

"My son," he said. "Lucien Valecrest."

Lucien bowed respectfully toward Xandros.

"Your Grace."

Xandros gave him a brief nod.

Then Lucien turned toward Rosaline.

His expression softened into an easy smile.

"And you must be Lady Rosaline."

Rosaline returned the smile politely.

"I am."

"I have heard a great deal about you."

Rosaline blinked.

"Have you?"

Lucien smiled slightly wider.

"Not enough, apparently."

A strange silence followed.

Rosaline wasn’t entirely sure what he meant.

Seth, however, immediately looked between them.

Christophine’s lips twitched.

And Xandros’ expression became noticeably colder.

Rosaline glanced toward him but he was already staring at Lucien.

Lucien appeared completely unaffected.

Alistair quickly cleared his throat.

"The residence is not far from here. My son will accompany you."

Xandros finally spoke.

"That won’t be necessary."

Lucien looked toward him.

"I know the roads better than most of the guards."

"We have guards."

Rosaline looked at Xandros.

The response had come unnecessarily quickly.

Lucien’s smile remained.

"Of course you do, Your Grace."

Christophine leaned toward Seth.

"Is he jealous?"

Seth’s eyes widened.

"Don’t say that aloud."

"I whispered."

"Not quietly enough."

Xandros turned his head.

Christophine immediately smiled.

"Nothing."

Rosaline shook her head slightly.

The group eventually began moving through the gates, and as they entered the Western District, Rosaline found herself looking around with increasing fascination.

The district was beautiful in a completely different way from the places she had seen before.

The architecture was older.

The stone buildings were built closely together, their balconies decorated with climbing plants and banners bearing the crest of the West, while merchants filled the streets and people moved through the busy roads with an energy that made the entire place feel alive.

Lucien walked near Rosaline.

"Is this your first time here?"

Rosaline nodded.

"Yes."

"Then you’ll find plenty to see."

Xandros glanced toward him.

Rosaline noticed.

She continued walking.

"I’m sure I will."

Lucien smiled.

"The western markets are particularly beautiful at night."

Rosaline’s eyes brightened.

"Really?"

"Perhaps I could show you."

Xandros stopped walking.

Rosaline stopped too.

Everyone else gradually realized that the Duke was no longer moving.

Lucien turned.

Xandros looked at him.

"No."

Lucien blinked.

Rosaline stared at Xandros.

Lucien slowly looked toward her.

"I believe I was asking Lady Rosaline."

"I heard you."

Rosaline pressed her lips together.

Alistair looked as though he might faint.

Christophine turned away, clearly attempting not to laugh.

Seth coughed into his hand.

Lucien’s expression remained calm.

"Your Grace," he said politely, "I meant no disrespect."

Xandros stepped closer.

"I know."

The answer was somehow worse.

Rosaline quickly moved between the growing tension.

"Perhaps we should continue to the residence."

Xandros looked at her.

Rosaline gave him a meaningful look.

After several seconds, he finally began walking again.

Lucien followed.

But this time, Rosaline noticed that Xandros remained considerably closer to her than he had before.

The western residence was even more impressive than she expected.

It stood near the centre of the district, surrounded by high walls and extensive gardens, and servants were already waiting outside when their carriages arrived.

Alistair personally led them inside.

Rooms were prepared.

Their belongings were taken away.

Food was arranged.

And despite Xandros repeatedly insisting that none of the elaborate preparations were necessary, the Warden continued treating their arrival as though the Emperor himself had entered the Western District.

By night, a large feast had been arranged.

Rosaline sat at one side of the long dining table beside Xandros, while Seth and Christophine sat nearby and Lord Alistair occupied the opposite end of the table.

Lucien sat not far from Rosaline.

The conversation moved between discussions of the Western District and the purpose of Xandros’ journey, although the Duke revealed very little.

Alistair tried.

Rosaline noticed that.

Every attempt to begin a conversation about politics, military matters, or the reason for Xandros’ arrival was met with short responses.

"Perhaps."

"I’ll consider it."

"That’s unnecessary."

"No."

Eventually, even Alistair seemed to understand that the Duke of Dagon had no interest in becoming friendly.

Christophine, however, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

She sampled nearly every dish placed before her.

Seth watched her.

"Are you planning to eat all of that?"

Christophine looked offended.

"Are you planning to stop me?"

"I wouldn’t dare."

"Good."

Rosaline laughed softly.

Lucien turned toward her.

"You seem happier than I expected."

Rosaline looked at him.

"What did you expect?"

Lucien hesitated slightly.

"I suppose I expected someone who had spent so much time away from her kingdom to appear...more serious."

Rosaline smiled faintly.

"I’ve had enough seriousness recently."

Lucien studied her for a moment.

Then he smiled.

"I can understand that."

Xandros’ fingers slowly tightened around his glass.

Rosaline noticed.

Again.

She decided not to mention it.

Lucien leaned slightly closer.

"Actually, Lady Rosaline, there is something I’ve been wondering."

Rosaline looked at him.

"What?"

The conversation around the table seemed to quiet slightly.

Lucien rested one arm against the table.

"You truly don’t remember anything about this place, do you?"

Rosaline’s smile faded.

Xandros immediately looked toward Lucien.

"What do you mean?"

Lucien’s eyes remained on Rosaline.

"I’ve seen you before."

Rosaline froze.

The entire table became silent.

Alistair slowly turned toward his son.

"Lucien."

But Lucien didn’t look away from Rosaline.

Rosaline’s brows slowly drew together.

"You’ve seen me before?"

Lucien smiled faintly.

"Not here."

A strange expression crossed Rosaline’s face.

"Then where?"

Lucien’s smile became difficult to interpret.

"That’s what I was hoping you would tell me."

Xandros’ gaze darkened.

Rosaline stared at Lucien.

Her heart suddenly felt strangely unsettled.

Because there was something about the way he was looking at her.

Something that suggested he knew more than he should.

And as silence settled heavily over the dining table, Xandros slowly turned his gaze toward Lucien.

For the first time since they had entered the Western District, the Duke’s jealousy was no longer the most dangerous thing sitting between them.

It was the question Lucien had just asked.

Because Rosaline had never been to the West.

At least...

Not that she remembered.

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