In Peter and Rosalyn's chamber…
Rosalyn sat before the mirror, running her fingers slowly through her hair, her features radiant in a way they rarely were.
A sweeping sense of contentment seemed to possess her. Just then, Peter entered, shrugging off his jacket and straightening the collar of his shirt.
Peter, gazing into the mirror:
"What makes your cheeks so flushed? Are you truly happy?"
She met his eyes with a wide smile:
"I feel an immense joy… as though something important is about to happen. No something will happen."
He looked at her with indifference:
"Is that so? Well then, I'll be off to bed. Tomorrow is going to be busy, as always."
Stretching herself across the bed, Rosalyn murmured:
"Go on and sleep. As for me, I doubt I'll close my eyes tonight—my happiness won't let me."
Peter chuckled as he extinguished the lamp:
"Well then… you've certainly sparked my curiosity. What is it?"
Rosalyn closed her eyes, a secretive smile lingering on her lips:
"You'll know soon enough… Let it be a surprise. Isn't that far more delightful?"
She rested her head against the pillow, while her mind replayed a fleeting scene from the hours of daylight past.
Flashback a few hours earlier, late afternoon…
Rosalyn had trailed after Aron down the narrow back corridor leading toward the servants' wing. Concealed in the shadows, she watched as he slipped swiftly into Erik's chamber, only to emerge moments later, glancing furtively in every direction.
She lingered until he had gone, then advanced with careful steps.
A sly smile tugged at her lips: "Let's make this interesting."
She pressed the door it opened quickly. Inside, she moved toward the table, scanning its surface.
There it was a folded note. She unfolded it, her eyes skimming the words. A mocking smile played upon her face:
"Ah… sweet little Amber, a secret tryst, is it?"
Casting her gaze about the room, she whispered to herself:
"This mustn't stay hidden. But better that it reaches someone who will truly fan the flames."
She slipped out of the chamber, and instead of hiding the letter elsewhere, made her way straight to Claudion and Margaret's room.
With the lightest push, she eased the door open, then carefully tucked the note beneath one of the books on the edge of the table, letting it appear as though it had slipped there by accident.
A slow, venomous smile curved her lips:
"I wonder… when will the fire catch?"
She closed the door softly behind her and drifted down the corridor with graceful, almost weightless steps.
Back to the present…
Rosalyn smiled against her pillow; her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she whispered to herself:
"Everything is unfolding just as it should…"
The next morning, golden rays of sunlight crept through the palace windows, heralding the start of a new day. The air was thick with the stillness before a storm; everyone knew that tonight's gathering would be the grandest of events every glance, every gesture, would be weighed and watched.
In the eastern salon overlooking the garden, the family sat together for their morning tea. The table was set with aristocratic restraint, and the faint chime of silver spoons against porcelain cups was the only sound that dared disturb the hush.
Claudion sat at the head of the table, his wife Margaret at his side. Across from them were Amber and Kate, while Erik stood near the door, calm and composed as ever, awaiting his master's orders.
Claudion placed his cup down with deliberate care, then turned to Erik:
"Erik, make certain everything proceeds exactly as planned. I will not tolerate unpleasant surprises tonight."
Erik gave a slight bow.
"As you command, my lord… everything is proceeding flawlessly."
When he lifted his gaze, it landed directly on Amber. He had not meant to stare, yet his eyes lingered against his will. Amber, too, raised her gaze toward him and offered a gentle, bashful smile one that seemed to whisper: I understand you.
From the far side of the table, Margaret watched in silence. Her eyes moved between Erik and Amber, back and forth, before she let out a quiet sigh within herself.
Margaret's inner voice, taut with worry:
"If this continues… scandal will be inevitable. Neither society nor her uncle would forgive it.
Better she wed the baron's son at least that would preserve her dignity and the family's name…"
Suddenly, Claudion rose, fastening the buttons of his jacket.
"I will leave now… there are urgent matters to attend to before the evening. I am not to be disturbed until noon."
The family inclined their heads respectfully as he strode out with steady confidence.
But Erik remained still, his gaze clinging stubbornly to Amber, as though some part of him wished to prolong this fragile morning.
Margaret noticed his hesitation.
Tilting her head slightly, she spoke in a sharp, commanding tone:
"Erik. What are you doing here? Did you not hear the master? Go at once and see to your duties!"
Startled, Erik shook himself free of his daze, bowing quickly.
"Forgive me, my lady… As you command."
He left in haste, while Margaret's eyes followed him, shadowed with unease.
Amber, meanwhile, lowered her gaze to her lap, struggling to hide the flutter of nerves in her chest… yet despite herself, a faint smile bloomed once more upon her lips.