Page 7 of Maid For The Dark Elf

ROSALIE

The royal messenger arrives at midday, when the household has settled into the restless rhythm of waiting that follows sleepless nights. I'm folding linens in the main hall when his boots echo against marble, each step announcing importance with military precision.

"Lady Ardyn." His voice carries the formal cadence of palace protocol. "By order of His Majesty King Grymlock, you are summoned to appear before the Crown at the seventh hour this evening."

Lady Ardyn emerges from the morning room like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her hair catches the light streaming through tall windows, and genuine excitement animates her sharp features.

"The King wishes to see me personally?" Her lavender eyes brighten with hope that makes my heart ache. "About my husband?"

The messenger's expression remains diplomatically neutral. "I am instructed only to deliver the summons, my lady."

She accepts the sealed parchment with hands that tremble slightly—whether from anticipation or anxiety, I can't determine. The royal seal gleams like captured starlight against the cream-colored paper.

"Of course His Majesty would want to discuss Aethan's absence directly with me." Lady Ardyn's voice grows stronger as she speaks, as though convincing herself.

I continue folding linens, but my attention focuses entirely on this exchange. Something about the messenger's careful phrasing feels wrong, though I can't identify exactly what troubles me.

"The summons indicates you may bring a single attendant," the messenger adds. "Should you require assistance with court protocols."

"Naturally." Lady Ardyn turns toward me with sudden decision. "Rosalie will accompany me."

The folded sheet slips from my fingers. "My lady?"

"Don't look so surprised. You've attended more royal functions than anyone else in this household." Her tone carries the brisk efficiency she uses when organizing social events. "All those times my husband brought you along to palace meetings—surely you observed proper etiquette?"

Heat blooms in my cheeks. Those occasions weren't social visits where I studied ceremonial behavior. Aethan brought me because he valued my observations about people's reactions during political discussions. I spent those hours listening rather than learning curtsy protocols.

"I'm honored by your confidence, but perhaps⁠—"

"Nonsense." Lady Ardyn waves away my protest. "You know the palace layout better than I do. Besides, who else would I bring? The cook? One of the stable boys?"

The messenger shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable with our domestic arrangements but unwilling to comment on noble household decisions.

"The audience will be held in the palace," he continues. "Formal court dress is required."

"Of course." Lady Ardyn's smile could illuminate the entire hall. "Rosalie, you'll need something appropriate. Perhaps that blue gown from last winter's formal occasions?"

My stomach clenches. The blue gown hangs in my wardrobe like evidence of privileges that other servants resent. Aethan commissioned it specifically for palace visits, insisting I shouldn't appear shabby when accompanying him to important meetings.

"I'll make the necessary preparations, my lady."

"Excellent." She turns back to the messenger with renewed authority. "Please inform His Majesty that Lady Ardyn will attend as requested, accompanied by her personal attendant."

The messenger bows respectfully. "I shall convey your acceptance immediately."

After he departs, Lady Ardyn examines the summons again, her fingers tracing the royal seal with reverent care.

"Finally, some news about Aethan." Relief floods her voice.

I watch her retreat toward her chambers, already planning which jewelry will complement her finest court gown. Her excitement radiates like warmth from a hearth, but something cold settles in my stomach.

Royal summons don't typically include provisions for attendants unless the matter requires witnesses.

The palace rises before us like a monument to centuries of Dark Elf supremacy, its obsidian towers catching moonlight and throwing it back in sharp fragments. Enchanted flames dance in crystalline sconces along the main entrance, casting shifting shadows that make the carved gargoyles appear to writhe against the stone. Even after all my visits with Aethan, the sheer scale of the place makes me feel impossibly small.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Lady Ardyn's voice carries the breathless quality of someone trying to convince herself she belongs here. "I should visit more often."

The guards recognize me—a small mercy that spares us awkward explanations. Their nods are professionally neutral, though I catch the brief flicker of curiosity in their eyes. They've seen me with Aethan countless times, but never walking beside Lady Ardyn.