Tonight, Amalia has a clear plan.
She dresses into her most revealing and uncomfortable nightdress, showing the curves that usually are not there, and awaits for the duke. She almost laughs at herself as she waited for hours, as if she is a faithful wife when she is only doing what the contract states.
Now that the duke is back, the marble floors of the Keep feel like eggshells. She hasn't eaten properly, and she is conscious around the house. She has avoided the duke all throughout the day, except when they were at the stables.
She has always known that the duke is fond of her. Now she thinks that fondness never cease even after the war.
It is because of this, along with the knowledge that the duke needs an heir, that she is sure the duke would visit her tonight. Hours have passed, and soon the sun starts to show its first light, but no Henrick in sight.
Sighing, she gets up and writes to his brother, and then calls for Jane and her servants so she can get ready. Jane greets her good morning when she enters, and then helps her with dressing herself. When they are done, they go to the mess hall to break the fast.
As if waiting for her, there sits the duke.
"Your Grace," Amalia curtsies and waits for Henrick's greeting before sitting across from him. It is curious that family tradition dictates for them to dine in the same place, but Amalia never bothered asking. She just does, as it was none of her concern, but now she regrets not asking about it and trying to change it.
"Eat," His Grace tells her when the food comes. Amalia tries to appear eating, but Henrick sees through her act. He sighs as he sees Amalia's plate still full. "Is the food not to your liking?"
Amalia smiles. "It tastes alright."
"You are yet to take a bite," frowning, he places his fork back to his plate.
Amalia sighs. Of course, she would not be able to trick the duke twice. But then, the fear of poisoning is as great as the duke discovering her little act and killing her because of it.
She can trust the head cook as he is to her own choosing, but the ones under Henrick and the maids who serve them are out of the question. When the duke was far in the south, she personally asked the head cook to prepare and personally deliver her meals to her. But now that the duke is here, too many hands handle her food, and most of those hands are under the duke's command and she cannot request for the cook as she doesn't want to appear too needy or arrogant.
Appeasing him should be her priority, but it is too much work and effort to look amiable.
"I am sorry, my lord, but I have lost my appetite," she says in the end. Henrick is about to say something, but she hurriedly stands up and makes her way to the stables.
It is rather early for a ride, but Amalia badly needs it. The duke tells her to get a guard anyway, and so she feels the need to do it now.
She makes her way to Kilhen, a bustling village southwest outside of the castle walls. It is in between Adendiff and Crane, and travelling by horse will take a day, and so she usually uses a device for transport to conserve time. While she wants to get away from Adendiff as much as possible, she doubts the duke would allow her such freedom. And so she uses the device once more when she is out of the castle walls.
She owns a store named Seafrost in Kilhen, managing it for two years now. It is a banking store of sorts, where they help their client keep any valuable item they have for a price. As it is sought after by those both who need it and want to rob it, Amalia has hired mercenaries of Crane that can double as men of the store. One of them is her most trusted man, Damien, who was with her ever since before she was married.
Damien's head is resting on the receiving desk when Amalia enters the small shop. She knocks at the wooden desk and Damien rises from his slumber.
"Milady," his hair like the color of red clay is tousled and his gray eyes look sleepy, but still he smiles widely, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Where is Eve?" She asks, pertaining to their manager. Damien shrugs. "Well, I am here to retrieve you," she says. Damien rubs his eyes and looks back at her.
"Retrieve me? To where?"
"Back to the castle."
"A threat once more?"
"No." Amalia bites her lip and then confesses, "the duke wants me to have a guard during my time away from the walls, and… well, I do not trust any of his people to guard me."
Damien scoffs. "I didn't know you were an obedient wife, Your Grace."
"I am not here to be mocked," she says. Damien laughs. "This is a compromise on my end."
"My, my. I apologize," he says, resting his elbows on the desk. He reaches for his chin and scratches it. "I am happy that you thought of me but why not Timothy? He has been with you all those years in the castle. Even if he is His Grace's knight, the boy helped you the most during the duke's absence."
"Exactly why I did not want to choose him. He helped me because I acted as the lord of Adendiff. In the end, his fealty resides with the lord of the land and not me."
"Fine," he says in the end, hands in the air as if in surrender. "Since there is no threat to my life, I offer to reduce my payment. I don't want all your allowances to be spent on me."
Amalia laughs. Damien doesn't know that whatever she spends, she spends it with no regrets.
The ride to the castle walls is now shorter with company. This time too, rather than the duke, it is Jane who receives them. Her face is blank, but her green eyes are staring into Amalia as if there is urgent news to share.
When Cielo is at place, she thanks Gilda and walks with Jane to the castle. Damien is already nowhere to found—he knows his way around the castle anyway, as he already stayed inside two years ago.
"Your Grace," Jane starts, her steps quick. She drags Amalia to the hall and then continues in her hushed tone, "the head cook was fired by the duke. Has he discussed this to you?"
"No," Amalia replies. She cannot fathom what may be the cause of this decision, and she is sure she will have a word with the duke.
If the head cook is fired, then she doesn't know how any of her meals will go. And she couldn't eat anything the head cook didn't prepare.
And if poison will not kill her, surely starvation will.
"I spoke with the head cook and he said the duke fired him because the food he makes is not to your taste. The cook argued that he knows all your favorites and thus cooks them for you, and you never told of your dislike otherwise. I have seen you dine with the duke for two mornings already, but is it true that you are not eating?
"But you were eating breakfasts even before. It always has been your most important meal of the day," Jane continues, each word heavier than the last as she tries to catch her breath. "And the head cook has always prepared your meals, and you ate all of them!"
"Indeed." Amalia sighs, her hands clutching her skirt. "I will need an audience with the duke."
"As you should, Your Grace."
Jane is diligent when it comes to Amalia. In time just after lunch, Amalia already is inside Henrick's study. The duke invites her for tea, but she refuses and immediately gets to the point.
"I heard you have fired the head cook."
"Not wasting time, are we?"
"Your Grace is much too busy with the affairs of the land, as I am within the castle. I asked for a little time and a little time I shall use."
Henrick sighs. "The head cook is not doing his job well if you cannot eat the food he makes."
"It is not the fault of the head cook. It is entirely mine. I ask you to reinstate him, as he was with me in all my years of stay in this castle."
"Why are you so adamant in defending him as to say it is your fault?"
"Because it is true. I can eat his food, but eating with you is quite uncomfortable."
"And now the fault is mine?"
"My lord," Amalia says, now annoyed, "let me remind you that I am the current lady of the house, and it is within my power to hire or fire staff."
"And yet you never settled in the duchess's chambers," Henrick counters. Amalia purses her lips, anger settling in her nerves. She doesn't know why the duke is set on calling her the duchess—his wife—when they both know she will not stay in this place forever.
"I should not taint the chambers, Your Grace," she replies. "Your future duchess might not be happy if I am to use it."
"Amalia—"
"I shall find a new cook if you do not want to reinstate the man." She exhales, and then turns to her heel.
It is in her nature to always argue with men, as she was in the Crane household where two men of power are always beside her. But with the duke, she has to step back. She might apologize later, when she is less angry.
Her anger hasn't subsided when she is again called by the duke.
"You called for me?" she asks once she is inside his husband's study. Henrick raises his head to look up at Amalia.
"Wife," he greets.
Amalia's lips tremble. She bites her lower lip to stop them from shaking, but she can only do much. A vision of her dream flashes before her—blood sticky on the floor, her eyes staring at her killer's knife as he say the word that makes her throw up. Wife.
My wife.
"Amalia?" Amalia's glances up at the duke, heart still pounding against her chest. The man looks at her with worry, but Amalia doesn't recognize, nor she cared, as she can only see him with contempt.
"Please tell me why you called me here," she says, those supposed polite words are coming stronger than she intended. Henrick glances at her for a moment longer before sighing.
"You don't need to look for a new head cook. I reinstated him as you wished," he pauses. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, thank you," she says, gluing her eyes on the floor.
"Are you, really?"
"Yes," Amalia repeats. "Is that all? May I go now?" she asks, her feet ready to bolt at the duke's word.
"Let me ask a question before you leave," he says. Amalia has no choice but to let him, so she breathes deep and nods. "Can you sleep in the duchess's chamber?"
She gulps, a new kind of fear forming in her throat. "You know very well that my stay here is temporary, so why do you insist in me sleeping there?"
"I thought you want to keep appearances as my wi—the duchess, so I asked you to sleep there."
Amalia scoffs. The duke, quite quick to catch up, frowns at her.
"I made sure that the Keep is managed by tight-lipped servants, my lord. Nothing will be found as long as I keep sleeping in my chamber."
"So, are you saying that your mind is already made up?" His tone is questioning, but there is something more that she couldn't place. "Is there no convincing you?"
Ah, she thinks. Maybe he needs me there so sleeping together will not be a nuisance.
She fears her place so much that she is willing to sleep with him. This is the contract she made, and thus she will have go through with it.
"Alright," she says after a thought. "I will use the duchess's chambers as you wish."