Rosie's Games

Chapter 409: Resemblance

Rosalind's eyes fluttered open, her groggy mind still tangled in the remnants of a restless night. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily upon her limbs as if each muscle had been infused with lead while she slept. With a sigh, she begrudgingly parted from the comfort of her disheveled sheets, the cold touch of the morning air sending a shiver down her weary spine.

As her feet met the floor, a wave of weariness washed over her, threatening to pull her back into the enticing embrace of slumber. Her eyelids drooped, heavy with the weight of her sleep-deprived hours, and she longed to retreat beneath the covers for a few more precious moments of rest. But duty called, and she knew that she had no choice but to rise and face the challenges that awaited her.

This formidable challenge standing before her was none other than Martin Lux.

To be perfectly honest, Rosalind had hoped that after witnessing the chaos that had unfolded in the infirmary, Martin would take the hint and leave her be. But, alas, her expectations were dashed as he persisted in his pursuit, undeterred by the mayhem that had ensued.

As she stood in the room, contemplating her next move, her gaze turned to Magda, who had positioned herself near the doorway. Magda, ever the composed and resolute warrior, met Rosalind's glance with a knowing look.

"You mentioned that he has been here since sunrise?" Rosalind inquired, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and resignation.

"Yes," Magda confirmed, her voice steady. "I informed him that you were still resting, but he adamantly refused to depart."

Rosalind released a weary sigh, a hint of frustration evident in her expression. She had hoped for some respite, a moment of solitude to gather her thoughts, but it seemed that fate had conspired against her desires.

"Do you need my help in changing your clothes?" Magda offered, concern etched upon her features.

"Water will suffice," Rosalind replied, her voice tinged with fatigue. Magda promptly fetched a small basin of water, allowing Rosalind to refresh her weary countenance. She splashed the cool liquid onto her face, relishing the brief sensation of rejuvenation it provided. Following this brief respite, Rosalind opted for a change into more comfortable clothing, shedding the sleeping wear that she had.

"I have already prepared breakfast. Shall I bring it here?" Magda offered, her voice filled with a sense of duty.

Rosalind paused for a moment, contemplating her response. "No," she finally replied, her tone carrying a hint of determination. "Bring it to the drawing room."

Magda nodded, acknowledging her orders, but a question lingered in her eyes. "Should I bring an additional serving for him?" she inquired cautiously.

Rosalind's footsteps echoed as she walked out of her room, Magda trailed closely behind, awaiting her answer.

"No," Rosalind declared, her voice firm yet tinged with a touch of finality. "There is no need for such gestures."

Before long, Rosalind entered the small drawing room, her gaze immediately drawn to Martin's figure standing near the expansive window, his attention seemingly lost in the vast expanse of snow outside.

"You did not have to wait," she addressed him, her tone carrying a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Her eyes briefly flickered over her father's fatigued countenance, wondering if he had spent the entire night attending to the needs of others or if there was something else brewing beneath the surface. What was this man scheming? "I would have asked someone to call you once I am ready."

"I had nothing else to occupy my time. Dorothy is still resting," Martin responded, his voice lacking the usual reproach that often accompanied their encounters.

Rosalind nodded, absorbing his words. She gracefully took a seat at the circular table that occupied the center of the room. As she settled into her chair, a hint of wry amusement danced in her eyes.

"I must admit, Your Blessedness, I had assumed that our paths would never cross again," she remarked, her words laced with a touch of irony. "After all, as a sorcerer, I am well aware of the disdain that blessed individuals hold for our kind." The truth of their prejudice lingered. It was one of the reasons why she decided to reveal her abilities, hoping to dissuade them from obstructing her path.

Inwardly, she acknowledged the growing realization that her plans had not unfolded as intended. The thought tugged at her, a flicker of disappointment flashed in her eyes.

She wanted this man gone from this place.

"I came here to express my gratitude for what you did back there," Martin spoke softly, taking a seat opposite Rosalind. A flicker of anticipation danced in his eyes as he awaited her invitation to sit, but when none came, he took the initiative and settled himself in the chair.

His gaze lingered upon Rosalind's face, studying her features intently. "You bear a striking resemblance to my late daughter," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow.

Rosalind's response was quick and sharp. "I was unaware that His Blessedness had another daughter," she replied, her words tinged with a hint of skepticism. She chose to hide her irritation.

A veil of sadness descended over Martin's expression as he continued, his voice heavy with the weight of his loss. "She passed away long ago. She would have turned eighteen in a matter of days."

"So, she was of the same age as I am now," Rosalind mused.

"I had no idea the Duchess was so young," Martin commented, a tinge of surprise coloring his words.

Rosalind remained silent, her gaze unwavering as she stared at the man she had once called her father. Questions swirled within her mind, threatening to break free from the confines of her restrained tongue.

"How did she die?" Her voice was steady, though a trace of restrained anger flickered beneath the surface.

Martin's response was measured, his words laden with grief. "It was an accident. She... she fell from a cliff."

Rosalind's sneer threatened to surface, her disbelief and anger mingling within her. Fell from a cliff? Is that the tale they spun, the fabricated account of her supposed demise? Did Victoria and Dorothy, her manipulative half-sister, feed Martin this distorted narrative? Was he even aware that it was Victoria who had orchestrated his daughter's "supposed" death?

The truth simmered beneath Rosalind's composed facade. Yet she had no time to confront him about the past.

"I merely did what was necessary," Rosalind asserted, her voice filled with quiet resolve. "There is no need for thanks. Instead, gratitude should be extended to those who fought against the beasts, to the wounded warriors and the brave souls who risked their lives to ensure your safety."

Martin's nod carried a weight of acknowledgment, his demeanor reflecting the gravity of her words.

Witnessing his somber response, a subtle smile tugged at the corners of Rosalind's lips. How amusing it was to see someone like Martin Lux, someone who held himself as superior by virtue of his blessed status, acknowledging and considering the efforts of those whom he deemed beneath him. Sadly, she was almost certain that something like this would never happen.

How could he lower himself to those people who were only doing their duties?

She knew that this man came here with a purpose and apologizing or thanking her was not one of those.

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted as Magda entered the room carrying a tray laden with food. Rosalind's smile widened as she motioned for Magda to place the tray before her.

As Magda attended to her duties, Rosalind turned her attention back to Martin, her gaze steady. "Is there something else you wish to discuss, Your Blessedness?" she inquired.

"Well..." Martin's eyes wandered toward the tantalizing spread of food. "The mansion still lies in ruins. Our people are working diligently to repair the damages caused by the beasts. However, the scarcity of materials means that it will take a few weeks before the mansion can be fully restored. I was wondering if the Duchess could provide us with an alternative solution."

Rosalind considered his request, her mind already formulating a plan to address the predicament at hand. The wheels turned, and she responded with measured determination. "Rest assured, Your Blessedness, I shall explore every possible avenue to aid in the restoration efforts. We will find a solution to accommodate your needs."

Rosalind's gaze lingered upon the delectable dish before her, her eyes tracing the intricate details of the presentation. A silent appreciation filled her thoughts as she found herself glancing toward Magda, contemplating whether she had personally prepared the appetizing meal. The hunger that gnawed at her stomach seemed to agree, its presence made known by a sudden grumble.

With a slight smile, Rosalind redirected her attention to Martin, her tone composed yet tinged with a hint of subtle intent. "As for your accommodations, I am confident that the King will be able to assist you in that matter," she stated, a veiled desire evident in her words. Deep down, she wished for nothing more than to see Martin's departure from this kingdom. She could only hope that the King shared the same sentiment, though she acknowledged the constraints imposed by Martin's blessed status. Blatantly disrespecting him would not be good for the King's reputation.

Inwardly, Rosalind accepted the reality of the situation, knowing that her hopes might not align with what was realistic. After all, Martin remained one who had received the blessing of the goddess, and the boundaries of respect and diplomacy must be upheld, even in the face of Rosalind's desire to punish them.

....

A/N: I will lower the cost of Priv for July. It's now 699 for 40 chapters from 799 for 35 chapters. I hope you will buy to show your support. Thanks!