𝙋𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙇𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨 || 𝘼𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙤𝙣

Chapter 13

A/N: holy cow, this took way too long to do!

I've been working on many original works *cough cough check them out if you enjoy my writing* and with exams and school on top of that I am barely making it. honestly, I'm surprised i haven't exploded like a hampster in the microwave
anyways! enjoy this chapter and i apologize for how short it is, i promise longer updates in the future :)

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At 2 o'clock this afternoon Rosheen would go down to the garden and entertain her guests like she had done plenty of times before, and now it seemed torturous. She sat on the floor, knees pressed to her chest as she counted the ticks of the clock and heard the soft pattering of maidservants passing by her door.

Facing Edwina would be hell, and it was her fault, she had broken something that hadn't been found yet. The cut-and-dry reality was laid back into her, and that passionate moment she swore off was pure fantasy now.

Rosheen got up, paced around, and then sat on the foot of her bed in complete hopelessness. Not many women had become her friends over the passing years, and the kindest of them was Edwina. It wasn't like she could blame it on Anthony either, she let part of it happen, and tomorrow she would sin again. Rosheen rose off the bed, her nightgown clinging to her cold, clammy legs as she walked carefully to the window.

She clutched onto the taupe curtain, pushing it away gently to look out into the green, billowy structures she took such pride in. In its live walls with lilac and sweet-smelling flowers that would put you to sleep like a tale older than her, she watched the finance of the viscount. Edwina was clutching her blossom pink shawl as the wind skirted past her, and she smiled in conversation with a lady in light purple.

She deserved better, she deserved a better fiance, a better friend, a better everything.

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Rosheen returned the attack with a furious beginning and blocked his blade once again, but could not push it away. Her planted feet could only stay so for so long, and she had grown tired. The endless slashing motions were pulling at her already tired muscles and it wouldn't be too long before she had to do something, a last resort to win this. The agreement was simple, if she won they would never speak to each other in personal company, and if he won, that reward had not been said.

In the back of her mind, she knew what he wanted, and thought it completely foolish, and as much as she yearned for it back, it was stupid to dwell on it. Rosheen had already spent hours trying to scrub the man out of her memory, to forget every slight touch and lingering gaze. It was impossible now, from the first time they dueled it was stuck in her mind, and marked on his skin.

So there she was, her blade digging into his as they leaned forward to clash. Rosheen's grip tightened enough to cut at her inner hand, and she pushed it to do so. Her eyes were glued to the point at which the swords intersected, and she could not for the life of herself divulge the next move.

All she could do was let her eyes flick back up to Anthony's, the eyes that never left her. With an odd turn of events, she pressed with all her might and gained on him with her rapier falling to gash the shoulder of her opponent with a sharp tear of a noise. The viscount stumbled backward and groped the wound that had begun to bleed from his clenched hold on it.

He cursed out something harsh as the woman still stood her ground, panting with exhaustion but holding her bloodied blade ready. Though, before she could get a word out of the first blood, a shout could be heard in the distance.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could make out silhouettes coming closer, all clad in red jackets. ' Queen's men, oh god... ' She almost had the idea to slash them down too if they were not armed, but this situation was more than doomed now. She whipped her head back to Anthony, who stood equally astonished and injured. "You–you lied about me?!" She shrieked at him, tempted to strike him down once more.