The kiss and gifts from Thuenia

In the wee hours two weeks after the eventful Gathering, huge beads of cold sweat trickled down the duchess' face and neck. She curled and twisted in bed, clutching her blanket. She let out short whimpers and cries, saying 'no,' but as if no one heard her, she screamed herself awoke.

Amelia lighted her lamp and looked around her room, panting heavily. Her heart beat furiously as she gasped for air. It took her some time to recollect herself enough to put on a robe, get out of bed, and pour herself a glass of water. It's been raining for days, much like that day, but it's been months since she had a nightmare.

'What could have brought it up again,' she wondered. Could it be the commotion at the imperial palace?

But it was a trivial commotion. It was bound to happen at some point in her rule. It's best to have a taste of it sooner than later.

'Trivial?' She asked herself, slowly tracing her lips.

Though days passed already, Amelia could still feel the subtle lips that took hers. It wasn't as soft as she thought it would be–well, the lips that brushed hers were indeed soft, but the way it happened was a little too sudden, a little too rough. There was a moment's feeling of longing that Amelia couldn't describe well enough. To say the least, it's the kind of longing when she was told to avoid eating pastries, and suddenly one day, she's allowed to—the sort of longing where one just wanted to sink into that sweet and chew it slowly to savor every bit of everything there was.

That was what she thought of the kiss.

Her youngest ladies-in-waiting, Laila Tull, and Arabella Whitt had mixed emotions. Laila was beyond ecstatic. She was hugging her pillow as Constance reiterated what happened at the banquet. There were some occasional short shrieks and reddened faces. They couldn't believe that something out of a romance novel occurred. On the other hand, Arabella was not as happy; she questioned what kind of ill-mannered Duke House Clement have—there have been endless rumors about him, of course, but they thought they were only rumors.

Laila asked the Duchess how she felt—was she up in the clouds? Was she filled with so much fuzziness that her heart felt like bursting? Did everything around her seem to sparkle? Did the music sound faint? Did she only see the duke and no one else?

It was an unending query, and Amelia wondered.

Was she up in the clouds? She didn't think so. Instead, she felt like she was being dragged into hell. Was she filled with the fuzziness that her heart felt like bursting? Well, her head felt like bursting from all the stress that evening and that surely made her feel fuzzy.

Because of what happened in the past, Amelia was forced to mature early to prepare herself to be the rightful Duchess of Osmea. She didn't have time for unproductive pastimes such as daydreaming or reading fictional books–though she often daydreamed of becoming as good of a swordsman as Duke Mulford and his sons were. So, the idea of even being afloat in the clouds or sparkles everywhere was foreign. How much more finding a husband?

Out of this world!

She thought of no need for one. It's not like she despised men; she just thought of being in a relationship as more of a burden than anything else. The idea came from the days she sat on her dresser listening to the never-ending rants of her ladies-in-waiting as they worry their hearts out for someone they fancied. Aside from them, the chatters of her servants have been one of her windows to what's happening in society, since—believe it or not—she hasn't hosted or attended any soirees or balls and alike.

Right then and there, Amelia thought that she'd never put herself in a position like that. Ever! —if that's possible. Oh, and she'd like to keep it that way. There's too much for her to think of than impressing would-be husbands.

'Should it have felt like that?' she found herself asking again. And before her mind wandered to that man, Amelia shook her head and went towards the water basin to wash her face, hoping to wash the thoughts too.

Strangely, as Amelia headed towards the divan by the window, she realized how she forgot about her nightmare the moment she remembered those—lips—things some night ago.

"All this nonsense dilemma is not going to help me," she murmured to no one as she scavenged her closet for a thick enough cloak to battle the intense winds the rain brought along.

***

House Florence's castle sat on a slightly higher ground than the rest of the duchy; the east wing, especially, overlooked the town of Osmea.

Amelia had been aimlessly watching the town even before the first ray of sun. She came to the office hoping to start work early, but her mind wandered to who knows what—or who. And much to her frustration, Amelia found herself often touching her lips.

'It has been days, for goodness' sake!' She grumbled, clenching her fists.

The duchess sighed as she leaned back on her chair. What happened wasn't her fault, but why was she more upset with herself than the person responsible for making her feel that way?

She wasn't born to tie herself to a man stranger to her—more so someone other people deemed to be uncivilized, a known womanizer, and a… rake! Well, maybe not a rake, but still. Someone who doesn't even act like a proper duke should not be wagging anything in front of her! Amelia could count all the things that that house might demand of her in exchange for theirs.

Land, for one. Thuenia isn't arable. Wealth, influence—her duchy is not a rich one, so no point marrying her for that. Title. They have the same status, so Amelia doesn't think that would be it. Prestige and the chance to be a part of the old Florence family… the influence—yes, could be; the undying loyalty of her people to her and her ideals are quite formidable.

Amelia sighed. If she was correct, then the duke would surely offer her more than she could resist—and with the state of her duchy now, she knows it would be hard to resist.

But then again, if that would truly be the case, Amelia would try to haggle more—no! She definitely will. She will demand, not haggle. Haggling is for people who didn't have much to give. It's a fifty-fifty chance. Not something that she should engage in while being the duchess for whatever her House and name could bring. And for all she knows, marrying her would bring even greater power to House Clement than it would do his.

Marriage between two Houses isn't something small like buying décor; Amelia could feel it in her guts—shuddered—that this would be big, and if she wanted to put her plans in motion, she needed to be smart enough to take advantage of it.

But what if it was only a petty whim? House Clement's duke is a young one with everything placed in front of him on a golden platter. He didn't have things to worry about and had plenty of women and whatever around him waiting to be plucked and get used. What if the duke saw her and thought that he wanted her simply because of whatever twisted reason he has? For heaven's sake, he even has a mansion called Gardenia, where he houses his pleasures whatever they might be. And if that wasn't news enough, it's also been a known fact that the young duke is going against the empire.

What if this was his way of rebelling? His way of telling the emperor, 'This is not permitted, but I'm doing it because I don't like to follow the rules.'

Amelia suddenly felt a jolt run to her head. She sighed and massaged her temples.

How many years of her life did she sigh away just because of a single man?

Before her thoughts wandered further, a knock interrupted Amelia's thought.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Amelia glanced over the clock at the mantle to see that it was already a few minutes past seven in the morning. She didn't think she'd literally stay awake for hours. She didn't even realize that the rays have already made their way over the mountains. She just sat there, dazed, and still.

"Duchess, it's me, Constance."

"Enter," Amelia said, pulling her chair closer to her writing table.

"You're up early. Did the rain bother you that much? Or maybe it's—" a growing grin plastered on her lady-in-waiting's face.

"Stop." Amelia held two hands, her palms facing Constance, up. "Don't utter another word—or names. For the love of Heavens, let me move on from that night."

"You mean to say, you haven't moved on from that night yet?"

Amelia glared at Constance and then groaned. She lowered her head in frustration, her hands smoothing her hair at the sides at the same time. After a while of staring at nothing but the lines of her wooden desk, the duchess lifted her gaze to see Constance organizing what needed to be organized.

It has been five years since Lady Constance Rosewall waited on Amelia, who was six years younger. She's the second daughter of Marquess Rosewall, who's in-charge of one of the largest farmland in the duchy.

"I'm ruined, aren't I?" Amelia suddenly voiced, getting the attention of her lay-in-waiting.

"How can you be ruined when you've got no intention to marry in the first place?"

"Well…" Amelia looked to the side and let out a breath, slowly lowering her head again on the table until her ear was against the chilly surface of her desk. "It's not as if I don't think about it." She heard Constance sigh and she did as well.

It's true. It's not as if she didn't think about marrying before. She'd thought about it countless times matter-of-factly. Surely, Amelia wouldn't want to leave the living knowing that someone sinister might take over her place—her aunt's dubious husband, for one. As a duchess, she needed an heir. She hates to admit it, but Earl Levi made a good point.

A really good one too.

Again, the duchess stared into nothingness. When Constance talked to her, she barely answered in full. Only the occasional grunts and light nods.

"Do you need help addressing the correspondence you received? I saw Laila bringing a bunch the other day."

Amelia nodded her head and then lazily pointed at the small round table with a drawer near the window. It is where she often wrote her response when she's too fed up with looking at a spread of different documents laid on her desk.

"Oh. This one has an eagle for a crest," Amelia's ears perked up immediately as soon as she heard her say the words 'eagle' and 'crest'. But little did the young duchess know that she was being played at. By the time she realized, her face turned red and warm in an instant.

Amelia was about to scold her lay-in-waiting when another knock interrupted them. Given permission, Constance twisted the knob.

"Duchess," the old advisor's voice emerged from the other side of the door. "I'm coming in…."

Vance is her father's trusted secretary and the one who took care of her since she was little. He didn't even marry, saying it would only hinder his work. The late Duke arranged a couple of marriage interviews for him but to no avail since he's like an impenetrable fortress.

"Uncle Vance," the Duchess smiled softly when she saw what was in his hands.

"I brought you warm milk and some leftover tarts and cookies from yesterday." He smiled back.

"I'm not a child anymore. Tea would've been fine," Amelia rose from her seat to take the cup from Vance's hands. "How did you know I was here?"

"How would I not know?" he reached out his hand to give her the plate of cookies. It had been her comfort food since forever. "I saw a light pass by from the gap between my door and the floor. Plus, it had been raining especially hard last night, so I know that you might be feeling a little uncomfortable," but in truth, Vance heard the duchess scream, and it was something that will wake him up no matter what, for it was the same screams all these years.

But knowing how prideful the duchess tends to be, the old advisor always delayed his visits and brought warm milk and biscuits.

"I shall take these correspondence and have the other ladies sort and answer it with me in the library." Constance stood from the couch and stepped towards the small drawer.

"Thank you, Constance," Amelia said when the lady faced her and did a little curtsy, then she turned her attention back to her advisor.

"I've been thinking, Uncle," Amelia's eyes narrowed at him.

And as if Mister Vance was expecting it already, he lowered his cup and looked straight back at her. At that moment, they were no longer Uncle and Miss Lia–they were master and subordinate.

Amelia went back to her seat and placed the cup next to the plate of cookies and tarts. Her eyes focused on her finger tracing the rim of the cup because she couldn't fathom what look her dear advisor would make once she voiced out her thoughts.

"I'm considering the–"

"Lia!" Vance's voice slightly echoed in the room. "Duchess! You can't. You're still young, and isn't it you that said that a woman doesn't need a man to rule? What happened to this?" his voice was pleading.

Amelia swallowed and her breathing hitched. She tried to calm her emotions after seeing her advisor's hurt expression. It was true that she said those, but everything's different.

"I am almost eighteen Uncle. I've known girls—ladies—married for less. I've had a long time to think. Thuenia is a rich duchy to the point that the empire considers them as economic capital. And a proposal from the duke—no matter how preposterous it was—is a chance for Osmea to rise back faster than we initially planned."

Right, it was not as if Amelia's admitting that she needed a man, after all. She just… needed all the help she could get to put her plans into action. Looking at it on the bright side, it wasn't such a bad idea. Duke Clement will be the financial answer to her prayers.

Vance only shook his head. "A few weeks is not a long time to think about… about marriage."

"Some even marry within a day or two after being announced!"

"Lia…"

"Though I haven't had the chance to meet the duke personally then, I am well aware that most of our merchants have dealings and businesses with and in Thuenia. Why not make it permanent through my marriage to him? Plus, if we finally have access to the ports, we can directly export our products across the sea. That way, our merchants with foreign businesses will pay lesser tax—or maybe none at all—on their goods."

Thuenia became a wealthy duchy under the reign of the Clements. It was just another unnoticed territory before because it was so close to the sea that only limited crops could grow within their land. When Sir Harvey Clement, a knight who saved the emperor's life during the Second Great War, was given by the emperor the title of Duke and Thuenia for him to rule over, he dismissed the plans of farming altogether. He focused on building the port and turned the once unnoticed Thuenia into a center of commerce with trading, local and foreign merchants and artisans, and a well-established mercenary guild known all over the empire and beyond.

In time, the Clements' complete monopoly of the port led them to be an untouchable—and a very wealthy—House.

"But Lia, you're still—" There was a hint of disappointment in the advisor's voice.

"I'm a duchess now, Uncle Vance. I'm not only living for myself. There are a lot of lives on my shoulder. I've left my people long enough when Duke Mulford took me in. It's high time to give back to them."

'But was it really?' A sly voice popped in Amelia's head that she tried to diminish.

"Speaking as your guardian, this is a lot to take in, Lia," Amelia's eyes welled as she looked up at Vance.

His gray hair and slightly drooping eyes looked even more apparent than before. The duchess knew it was tough on him too—all these years. He's been a significant support to her and thinking of leaving the comfort of his guidance once again broke Amelia's heart.

The clock sounded and broke the deafening silence in the room.

Vance straightened his eyeglasses and said, "It's time for your breakfast, Duchess. I advise you to change into more appropriate clothing," he bowed his head. "And I will try to ponder upon your decision," he said in a low voice before leaving the room.

"Yes…" the Duchess' voice trembled.

*****

Knock, knock, knock.

"Duchess, it's me again… Constance." Amelia looked back at her window before she stood up and headed out.

"Is my bath ready?" she asked as she wrapped her cloak tighter. She just realized that she was still in her nightclothes.

"Laila and Bella are preparing it now." Constance followed at the same pace as Amelia. And sensing that her lady was not in the mood for anything again today, the lady-in-waiting opted not to ask too much—and just when the sky's finally clear too.

When Amelia entered her room, she checked the blue-green laced dress with intricate embroidery and flowing bell-sleeved dress that her two other ladies-in-waiting picked for her. At the end of Amelia's sight, she could see Laila and Bella nervously standing by the door to her bath. They knew she rarely wore a dress with complicated structures like the one on her bed; it wasn't something practical to move in and about with. But she was too tired to decide for herself, so she gave an approving nod and went into the bathroom.

As the ladies-in-waiting wash Amelia's hair, her mind, yet again, wandered on its own. And with the small ounce of sleep, she got from the night before, the duchess' consciousness slowly drifted away.

"Ah, she looks so tired," Bella whispered when she finished washing Amelia's hair.

"Well, she must've had a lot in her mind, especially when Duke Clement took the duchess' first kiss," Laila answered, careful not to let Constance hear her.

"The duchess has a lot more to think about than just a mere pair of lips!" but the two younger ladies-in-waiting weren't careful enough. They both looked up to Constance with a half-smile and apologized.

'Young ones these days,' Constance shook her head as she handed Bella the lavender hair oil Amelia loves to use when she's stressed. She let the duchess soak for a while longer before waking her up.

"Are you planning on looking around today?" Constance asked the still groggy duchess as she was about to help her with the corset.

"It's been a while since I had a proper sleep because of the rain, so I'll roam around tomorrow. I just want to rest today. No papers too—and definitely no corset!"

"Understood, duchess." Constance folded the corset and laid it back on the bed. "Then, I will take Laila and Arabella and teach them how to do some of the paperwork in case of my absence."

Amelia nodded as she followed her lady-in-waiting's movements as she was busy looking for hair accessories and jewelry to match her dress. With a deep breath, she asked, "What do you think about Sir Whytton, Constance?" the lady-in-waiting looked back confused but understood quickly where the question came from.

Constance recently got engaged to Sir Ralphe Whytton, one of Duke Mulford's excellent knights. A month ago, he was a carefree knight, but his older brother's unexpected death forced him to take the role of the next Marquess Whytton.

"Well, it was thanks to the duchess that we even got to meet each other," Constance smiled softly. "He's kind, though his manner of speaking can be rough. I don't know how to describe him exactly, but… I like him."

"Hmm… I see." Amelia sounded, her eyes in the distance.

Even before she came back from Aclador, Duke Mulford's duchy, Constance had been by her side and acted like an older sister who corrected and scolded her but also spoiled her at times. The lady became a part of her new family aside from Mr. Vance.

Her family grew even more when Laila and Arabella arrived. Though she missed her parents greatly, the ones close to her now were just as precious. And Amelia would do anything to protect them this time.

"I'm happy for you, Constance…." Amelia came up to her lady-in-waiting and hugged her, much to Constance's surprise.

Holding her tears back as she hugged the duchess back. Amelia learned that Constance discussed with Sir Whytton that she would serve her even after getting married and wished not to have children early. It was a decision that, though Sir Whytton could completely ignore, he understood and respected.

**********

When she was ready, Amelia followed Constance to the dining hall. The revitalizing and relaxing bath gave her a sudden appetite.

Her ladies-in-waiting and Vance always dined with her in her private meals, and they always ate while talking—whether it was discussing current trends, future business ventures, or the latest gossip in town, there was always something to talk about.

But Amelia's too tired for all of that.

Constance and the others exchanged looks, one signaled to another to start a conversation. And just when Laila was about to finally say something, the doors opened, and a footman entered, lightly bowing her head. She then quietly went to whisper something to the old advisor.

Vance cleared his throat, "I will have to excuse myself for a moment." He wiped his mouth and placed the napkin beside his plate.

"Is something the matter?" Amelia asked worriedly.

"It is nothing to be concerned about, duchess." He placed a hand on hers before leaving the dining hall.

Some time passed since her advisor left the table, and Amelia heard a slight commotion in the courtyard. It didn't seem like the kind that she needed to mediate, but the voices outside were getting louder by the minute. Still, she chose to let her advisor sort it out. Even her ladies-in-waiting arched their brows in curiosity.

After breakfast, Laila and Arabella hurriedly excused themselves to witness what the fuss was all about. When they arrived at the entrance, both their eyes and mouth widened. Waiting at the courtyard were three carriages full of boxes meant as gifts being ushered inside by the servants.

"An Eagle," the two young ladies-in-waiting said in unison. "Yellow and black? It's Du—" They weren't able to continue who it was when a bitter voice rose from behind them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Amelia's demeanor suddenly changed at the sight of the carriage's crest. "Where is your master?" she demanded.

"Greetings, Duchess Florence," a man dressed in a steel gray coat with the golden pin of House Clement's crest came forward. "I am Duke Alexander Clement's secretary, Symon Costen. I have come here bearing gifts from Thuenia. The duke picked them himself, hoping that it would you would love them."

Love them? Amelia threw a wild glare at her advisor. More than love them, it's like he's paying her in advance for her hand. It bemused Amelia. She knew that House Clement's wealth was deeper than any well, but to bring her gifts worth three carriages full was outrageous!

As if not satisfied with the duchess' silent reply, Symon Costen waved at one servant standing expectantly near the door of the first carriage. On his hand was a long red rectangular velvet box with golden linings. He took the box and opened it himself, and seeing Amelia's widened eyes made it difficult for him to hide his triumphant grin.

"The duke took significant consideration your disinterest in jewelry and ordered our best blacksmith to make this for you."

Laying inside the cushioned box was a double-edged dagger made entirely of black iron. It's fixed on a beautiful hilt in the shape of a rose studded in ruby. The scabbard beside it was adorned with intricate gold rose outline with the tip, as Amelia noted, a subtle outline of an eagle's head.

It was stunning. Majestic even. There's nothing she wanted to do more than trace the length of it with her finger. She discreetly swallowed some air, after all, black iron was a rare find. Only one mine in a foreign country has it, and it's worth more than all the gifts combined—even more!

Vance cleared his throat loud enough behind her to get her attention.

"Wha-what does your master want? Does your master think that by sending me all these gifts, I would just agree with his scandalous proposal? " Amelia closed the box with resolution. "Does he even know the weight of what he did to me? And in front of all those people too."

"I did tell you I'm going to marry you," A familiar voice sent shivers down the duchess spine. "There's nothing wrong with kissing the woman I'm about to marry. " A pair of striking amber eyes unmounted his horse and approached her. "And these gifts? I chose them with you in mind. It hurts me that you think of my gifts that way." Alexander Clement bowed his head with his palm against his chest. "I've been aching to see you, Duchess Florence, my love."