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KittenTrix
Wings of a butterfly, eyes of a tiger
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2025
Looking out of the stables, Gwyn felt the steady creep of a realization, like the cold rain currently soaking her clothes. A betrothal did not mean love, she knew that, but she thought theirs was different. They had known each other since childhood, their families were friends despite the slight difference in station, and she thought he had at least some liking for her. He was kind to her in the past.
Today proved her wrong; the final sign in a long line of them that she had ignored.
Cassian did not love her. He didn’t respect her or care for her well-being. He’d left her waiting in the rain for hours. Forgotten her birthday, not just the date, but the pearls she’d hinted for months she wanted. Now he was delaying the final betrothal contract, as if she were some merchant’s daughter he could keep waiting. She had worked her whole life to be the best bride he could have ever wanted, and yet… He treated her as if she was nothing.
Her hands shook but not from the cold, and she clenched them into fists to hide the sign of her emotions. Gwyn felt her fury burning through whatever affection she’d had for him. Who was he to make a fool of her? He might be a duke, but he was a poor one, despite his family’s trade connections. However attractive he was, she was the one called the Jewel of the Capitol, considered the most beautiful young woman in the kingdom. She might ‘only’ be an Earl’s daughter, but her bloodline stretched back to the Conqueror-Kings and the great wars, her family loyal to the crown for generations, while her dowry could’ve bought Cassian’s crumbling manor ten times over, never mind the rest of her fortune and that of her family.
Her nails bit into her palms. The pain was sharp, helping Gwyndalise come back to herself. When her maid came to her side, warning her that a troop of soldiers was coming to lodge at the inn and they should leave, she nodded. Climbing atop her horse, she and her guards rode out of the stable yard, headed for the estate a few miles away.
The men were too weary, wet, and hungry to look up as the beautiful girl rode past, flanked by guards and a maid. But he noticed. A man in his position didn’t survive this long without learning to see what others missed. And she did not belong here.
Either she was very young, or he had become very old, slim and small on her expensive mare. That was what first caught his eye, a good horse was hard to ignore, and hers was a well bred cream colored palfrey. Excellent gait and a color that might have bordered on gold had it not been soaked with rain.
The horse matched the girl; even without the guards she was clearly nobility, with her head held high, her spine straight even as her hips rolled with the horse’s movement. Her hair looked to be blonde, but was pulled into some feminine style, with lots of braids and loops that must have looked better before she had been caught in the rain. Now it resembled a soggy tangle of rope, the scarf pulled over her head not doing much to save her. The quick glance of her face showed an impassive expression, her mouth flat and her eyes trained on the road ahead of her.
But then his scout barked across the yard, “Koss! We’re in!” The scent of stew hit him as they climbed off their own horses, his stomach cramped, and he forgot the girl, hurrying with his men to stable the horses. They would rinse off as well as they could outside, eat, and then collapse in whatever rooms were available to sleep. Despite his best efforts, he knew he would be awake in a few hours, thanks to the pain of his injuries and a habit of constantly checking his surroundings. Constantly under attack, it had been nearly seven years since he slept deeply. But his men deserved to sleep as long as they wanted. As long as they could. Even if he couldn’t.
Today proved her wrong; the final sign in a long line of them that she had ignored.
Cassian did not love her. He didn’t respect her or care for her well-being. He’d left her waiting in the rain for hours. Forgotten her birthday, not just the date, but the pearls she’d hinted for months she wanted. Now he was delaying the final betrothal contract, as if she were some merchant’s daughter he could keep waiting. She had worked her whole life to be the best bride he could have ever wanted, and yet… He treated her as if she was nothing.
Her hands shook but not from the cold, and she clenched them into fists to hide the sign of her emotions. Gwyn felt her fury burning through whatever affection she’d had for him. Who was he to make a fool of her? He might be a duke, but he was a poor one, despite his family’s trade connections. However attractive he was, she was the one called the Jewel of the Capitol, considered the most beautiful young woman in the kingdom. She might ‘only’ be an Earl’s daughter, but her bloodline stretched back to the Conqueror-Kings and the great wars, her family loyal to the crown for generations, while her dowry could’ve bought Cassian’s crumbling manor ten times over, never mind the rest of her fortune and that of her family.
Her nails bit into her palms. The pain was sharp, helping Gwyndalise come back to herself. When her maid came to her side, warning her that a troop of soldiers was coming to lodge at the inn and they should leave, she nodded. Climbing atop her horse, she and her guards rode out of the stable yard, headed for the estate a few miles away.
The men were too weary, wet, and hungry to look up as the beautiful girl rode past, flanked by guards and a maid. But he noticed. A man in his position didn’t survive this long without learning to see what others missed. And she did not belong here.
Either she was very young, or he had become very old, slim and small on her expensive mare. That was what first caught his eye, a good horse was hard to ignore, and hers was a well bred cream colored palfrey. Excellent gait and a color that might have bordered on gold had it not been soaked with rain.
The horse matched the girl; even without the guards she was clearly nobility, with her head held high, her spine straight even as her hips rolled with the horse’s movement. Her hair looked to be blonde, but was pulled into some feminine style, with lots of braids and loops that must have looked better before she had been caught in the rain. Now it resembled a soggy tangle of rope, the scarf pulled over her head not doing much to save her. The quick glance of her face showed an impassive expression, her mouth flat and her eyes trained on the road ahead of her.
But then his scout barked across the yard, “Koss! We’re in!” The scent of stew hit him as they climbed off their own horses, his stomach cramped, and he forgot the girl, hurrying with his men to stable the horses. They would rinse off as well as they could outside, eat, and then collapse in whatever rooms were available to sleep. Despite his best efforts, he knew he would be awake in a few hours, thanks to the pain of his injuries and a habit of constantly checking his surroundings. Constantly under attack, it had been nearly seven years since he slept deeply. But his men deserved to sleep as long as they wanted. As long as they could. Even if he couldn’t.