The King’s Lover

Rose's voice rang in Thomas's ears. Her tone was softer than usual, and she was clearly apologetic about her reaction. He didn't understand what was going on with the man who had run off, but Rose was clearly uncomfortable.

He also didn't fail to notice that she had said the man was married, even though she was supposed to marry him. Thomas rubbed his hand across his face. Not many things intrigued him, but this one did.

Her outburst had caught him off guard, especially when she blurted those words, and he had found himself trying to explain and de-escalate the situation before he thought about it. He didn't like that.

Thomas took his hand from his face and looked at Rose, who still kept her head bowed. It was freezing, and she was out here in nothing but a simple dress and no gloves. He frowned; she was always dressed too lightly in outrageous weather. He couldn't keep her out here for too long.

It wasn't like the inside of the house was any better. It was barely warm and Thomas had never seen such a small and cramped space in all his life. As soon as he walked in, he wanted to leave. He didn't believe anyone lived in these conditions. He was worried how any of them would survive through winter like that.

Rose peeked at him by tilting her head to the side a little when he took too long to respond. "Lord Thomas," she called.

Thomas narrowed his eyes again. He didn't like how self-conscious she made him. "We are leaving by dawn."

Rose jerked upright, her eyes wide. "But you only just got here. To embark on another journey so soon— isn't that a little dangerous?"

"We will be fine," Thomas replied curtly.

"What about Lord Paul? I don't think he has gotten enough rest. He can't leave immedia—"

"Paul can handle it," Thomas replied.

After all, this was Paul's idea. Thomas had wanted to stay longer, but Paul thought it was pointless as he couldn't help Rose's mother, his presence would make no difference.

Thomas understood when Rose said she had a rough day. He would say that she was grossly understating the situation.

"Oh," Rose replied, realizing she didn't have more to say to this. "I wish you both a safe trip back to Furtherfield, and I hope His Majesty recovers quickly."

"Okay," Thomas said and took a step back. "If you need anything, ask the baron. He has been instructed to provide you with all you need, including the herbs for your mother."

Rose nodded, even though she had no intention of doing so. It was a different case if Thomas was in the baron's mansion, but for her to ask the baron was laughable. Whether she had the favor of the crown prince or not, she was still just a peasant. Besides, that only made her a harlot in the eyes of the villagers.

Thomas stared at Rose one last time, resisting the urge to toss his jacket at her. She smiled at him and waved. Thomas narrowed his eyes; it was either that or he would do something egregious like smile back.

Thomas marched towards his horse and got on it. He looked at Rose, who still stood by the door but was vigorously waving. "Give my thanks to Lord Paul."

Thomas scoffed as he pulled on the reins of the horse. He was not a messenger. He rode off with the guard behind him without a backward glance.

As soon as the horses turned away, Rose slipped back into the house. Her father was still where she left him, on the bench, staring at his sleeping wife.

"That took some time," he mumbled without turning to look at her.

Rose nodded, even though her father couldn't see her. "Sorry, Lord Thomas stopped by. They are leaving Edenville tomorrow," she whispered as she stopped behind her father.

Vallyn froze for a bit, then slowly nodded. "Okay."

Rose wanted to explain that Paul had important matters to attend to and that the crown prince's life was at stake, but she knew that was not something that should slip out of her lips even by accident. No one should know. Thomas and Paul had told her to be silent about it on several occasions.

"The herbs will last a week. I only have to give her morning and night. I also recognize them and can get them from Madame Carol," she explained to her father.

Rose cautiously stared at the back of her father's head as she spoke. She didn't want him to think the physician abandoned them and rushed away, even though that was clearly what happened— but there was a good reason for it.

Her father scoffed. "We don't even know if it would make a difference," he said.

Rose went around and sat on the bench next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Fat'er, don't say that. Lord Paul wouldn't do anything to make Mot'er's condition worse. I trust him."

Her father looked at her from the corner of his eye, then sighed. "Go to sleep," he said instead.

"What about you, Fat'er?" she asked, relieved that he didn't ask why she trusted the Lord. Rose didn't want to recount more sad memories.

"I'll be 'ere for a while. Don't worry about me," he said.

Rose wanted to argue, but a yawn ripped out of her lips. She was tired, and all she wanted to do now was sleep, especially with everything that had happened.

"Okay, Fat'er," she said through the yawn.

Rose stood to her feet and walked to the bed on the ground. It was warmer by her bed, having gotten ample time to be warmed up by the fireplace. Rose did notice that the wood was running out. She hoped it would at least last until morning.

Rose curled into a ball as she lay down to make herself warmer. Without even thinking about it, the events of the day began to replay in her head.

It was hard not to think about her dying mother when Rose could clearly hear the sound of her mother's shallow breaths by the fire. Rose would be lying if she said she had never thought about it before now.

Her mother had always been sick for as long as Rose could remember, and in recent years, she had gotten bedridden. She knew it would come eventually, but that still wasn't enough to prepare her for it.

Rose wiped the corner of her eyes and folded up some more. Her thoughts drifted to someone else who was also sick— the crown prince. Rose was worried about him. Other than the fact that his death would put her in danger, she didn't want him to die. She told herself, it was simply because it was the right thoughts to have. It would be bad luck to wish death on anyone.

She had tried to keep the crown prince out of her thoughts several times, but he had appeared more often than she would like and once again he was invading her mind. Sleep claimed her at last, the crown prince still lingering in her thoughts.