Page 11 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he next thing Rose knew, she was in her room, safe in bed. She blinked several times to confirm she wasn’t dreaming, unaware of what had happened until pain stemmed from her neck.

Her hand went to the wound, finding a thick bandage covering it. The blood that once stained her hair had been washed away, and her dress had been swapped for a fresh clean nightgown.

Her mother sat by her bedside, her creased forehead relaxing into relief. “Oh, honey.” She took Rose’s hand, still in her purple ballgown. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“Mum?” She lifted her head off the pillow, still a bit disoriented. “What happened?”

“Tristan found you down at the beach. What in the world were you doing down there so late?”

Memories of Xavier flooded back. She reclined back onto the pillow. How she wished it was all a fleeting nightmare.

“I just needed fresh air… I was hot from dancing,” she lied.

As her senses sharpened, muted voices drifted from across the room. The healer, the guard captain, and Queen Lenna were gathered in the far corner, their heads huddled together, speaking in hushed voices.

“She’s awake!” her mother called to the healer.

Their conversation halted, and the healer immediately came over, placing his cold, clammy hands on her forehead. “How are you, my dear?”

“I’m fine.” It was true enough.

The healer nodded, satisfied. “That’s quite the cut you’ve got.

But fortunately, it looks worse than it is.

It’s a clean slice, and it missed your artery by a few good inches, so there wasn’t too much blood lost. I took the liberty of sterilizing and bandaging it.

You have a few stitches, so I’ve instructed your maid to change your bandage twice daily until it heals.

With the healing oil I’ve provided, you should recover quickly. ”

Rose gave a small, relieved nod, careful not to rip her stitches. “Thank you.”

“Here.” He took a glass of tea off her night table. “Drink this.”

The queen glided across the room, stopping at the foot of the bed to inspect Rose for herself. Her worried eyes roved over her as she gripped the footboard with white knuckles. “What happened, Rose? Tristan said you fell onto the rocks?”

Rose took a sip of her tea, giving her time to scramble for a response. “Yes. I’m so clumsy. I must’ve tripped on my dress and fallen.”

The queen nodded, glancing at her mother and sharing a skeptical glance, but the queen didn’t pursue the matter further. “Well, my dear, now I know you are well. I must attend to the watch and give them instructions.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Queen Lenna gave a tight smile and exited the room, looking to be on a mission.

“Thank you so much for your efforts,” her mother said to the healer, “but now I think my daughter requires rest.”

The healer understood. “Of course, quite right. Please let me know if you need anything else.” Without another word, he picked up his bag and left, closing the door behind him.

“Where’s Tristan?” Rose asked, extending the teacup to her mother.

Her mother placed it back on the nightstand. “He was insistent about not leaving you. The guards practically had to force him out.” Her face must’ve fallen because her mother added, “Oh, don’t look so worried. I’m sure he’s just outside the door waiting to see you.”

Just then, a knock sounded, and Tristan poked his head around the door. His eyes went straight to Rose. “I’m sorry, but they said you were awake, and I had to see you myself.”

Her mother threw her a knowing look before turning to Tristan. “Yes, of course.” She stood, smoothing her dress. “I was just about to have a word with the guards. Would you stay with Rose for a moment?”

“Of course,” he agreed, entering the room. He waited until her mother closed the door before he slouched into the chair next to her bed. “Are you alright?” He put a soft hand on her cheek.

“I’m fine, Tristan, really.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist to hold it there.

His thumb glided over her skin. “I’m so sorry I took so long. I should’ve left as soon as I saw you leave.”

She didn’t want him blaming himself. “It’s not your fault I’m clumsy.”

He withdrew his hand. “You know I don’t buy your story. My mother told me the guards scoured the beach and found a broken bottle covered in blood. The healer said the gash was too clean to come from a rock. He says it had to be from something sharp… like glass.”

She lowered her eyes for a split second, fear striking as Xavier’s drunken face came into her mind. “Yes, um, I was drinking,” she said, struggling to get around it. “I must’ve tripped and broken the bottle when I fell.”

He folded his arms, leaning back into his seat. “I’ve never seen you drink a drop of alcohol in your life, let alone a bottle. Did someone hurt you? Did you see who it was?”

“No.” She shifted her gaze downward, attempting to hide her lie. “No one did anything.”

“Rosalie Versalles, look at me.” His fierce eyes burned into hers. “Don’t you dare lie to me again.”

She avoided his gaze, playing with the hem of her sheets, still wishing she was a better liar.

Tristan’s face grew stern as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Answer me.”

She let go of the fabric, knowing she couldn’t lie again if she wished to keep his trust. “There was someone…”

His body stiffened. “Who?”

She closed her eyes, mustering the courage to say his name before she opened them again. “Xavier.”

Tristan’s arms dropped to his sides as the realization sunk in. His gaze slipped away from hers, his eyes darting back and forth like he was piecing a puzzle together.

“I don’t think he was in his right mind,” she explained, filling the silence. “He was drunk and upset by your father’s public display of rejection. I spoke foolishly; I provoked him.”

Excuses didn’t matter. Tristan stood so quickly that he toppled the chair.

She jumped at the noise as he strode toward the door.

When she realized that he was going to take matters into his own hands, she tossed the sheets aside, standing up to follow.

But she must’ve stood up too fast because black spots threatened to blur her vision, and she grabbed the bed frame for balance.

“Tristan, wait.”

He didn’t even turn around. “Get back into bed,” he commanded, chiding her failed attempt.

Her body demanded she sit back on the bed, but she called after him, “Tristan, please don’t. He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t provoked him.”

He whirled back around. “That’s your defense for him? What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t come? For all I know, you would’ve passed out and drowned. I’m not protecting him anymore. He’s crossed the line this time.”

Tristan flung the door open and marched through, shouting for the guards. He spoke to the two men in uniform, pointing down the corridor. They both bowed and departed at once.

He came straight back in, wearing a treacherous scowl. “He knew. He knew you’d be down at the beach. Why else would he be at our spot?”

“I don’t think he intended to hurt me.”

“Of course he did.”

She didn’t let herself consider the possibility of it being premeditated. But she’d also witnessed the look in his eyes. It had been so estranged, so wild, so… unlike him.

Tristan’s face softened at her fallen expression. He sat on the bed with her this time, his weight sinking into the duvet as he reached for her hand. In a firm motion, he drew her into his chest. She molded into him, his touch relieving the pain more than any medicine could.

“I just got you back. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he whispered into her hair as he gripped it. “I thought when you passed out…”

She squashed those thoughts before they could spiral. “I’m fine.”

“I kept trying to come back to you during the ball. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“You were busy.” It took everything in her to pretend she didn’t have to fight the urge to pry him from every dance partner.

He reached out through the moonlight streaming in from the window, cupping her cheek. “It nearly ripped me to shreds to see you dance with Grant.”

She gifted him a subtle smile, secretly reveling in his jealousy. “Don’t be mad. My mother insisted.”

“I’m not mad at you.” He slipped his hand to the back of her neck, bringing her close so she could feel his breath on her lips. “I’m angry I can’t just marry you.”

Her mouth grew into a smile. “After all this time, you’d marry me just like that, huh?”

“Just like that,” he said in a heartbeat.

Her heart raced, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. “I was so scared you’d hate me,” she confessed, peering back up into his eyes.

Tristan knew what she meant. “I could never hate you. I’ll admit, I tried hard to after you left.

But as soon as I saw you walk back through those doors, hate was the furthest thing from how I felt.

” His lips went to her ear, his cheek brushing hers as he did.

“I don’t care how many come and try to steal you from me… I will have you, Rosalie Versalles.”

Her thoughts became increasingly irresponsible as she leaned instinctually closer to his lips. But before they could meet, her mother reentered, saving her from herself.

Her mother stopped abruptly, taking in the scene and raising a discreet eyebrow at Rose. “Forgive me, Tristan, but I think it’s time for Rose to get some rest.”

“Of course.” He stood from the bed as he reluctantly released Rose from his embrace.

“I’ll make sure two guards are at your door tonight.

Don’t hesitate to ask them for anything.

” He bent down, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

“If you want me to come back, just snap your fingers and I’ll be here.

” He kissed her forehead before saying his goodbyes to her mother.

The door had barely clicked shut when her mother’s astounded eyes shifted to her. Still, a glint of triumph rested in them. “I highly underestimated his attachment to you.” After a moment of silence, her mother’s tone grew serious. “I heard what Tristan told the guards… Was it truly Xavier?”

Rose stared at the dying fire, wishing she could say it wasn’t true, but—“It was.”

Her mother’s face fell with pity as she gazed into the air. “Goodness, how the mighty have fallen.”

“What will happen to him?”

“I’m sure they’ll figure that out tomorrow.” Her mother came and helped her back into bed before covering her up with the sheets. “But let’s not worry about that tonight. Right now, you need to rest.”

She wanted to protest, but she could already feel her eyes drooping. She laid back down as her mother tucked her in, planting a kiss on her head as she played with her hair.

Within a matter of minutes, her exhaustion after the events of the last twelve hours and the chamomile tea lulled her into a dreamless sleep.