26. Royal Seal
Chapter 26
Royal Seal
SONGBIRD
T he summer break both flies by and drags on, weeks blurring together with studies and grueling shifts at the bibliotheca. Between helping patrons and shelving books, I comb through volumes for any mention of sirens, my thoughts constantly straying to Aidan.
“Ahem.” Papa clears his throat, pulling me from my reading at the breakfast table. I look up to see him holding a pile of letters, his brow raised expectantly. “I checked the mail,” he says, giving the stack a small shake. “Look what I found.”
He fans the letters over the table. In the middle of the pile, a folded piece of plain parchment causes my heart to skip a beat. The folded letter is sealed with a blank dot of wax, just like all the others Aidan sent me. A heavy blush taints my cheeks at the prospect of reading another of his sweet, passion-filled, and frankly erotic notes.
Guilt for not writing back creeps up my spine as I pick it up, but a high-pitched gasp shakes me out of my reverie.
“Is that a royal seal? By the spindle, that paper is so fancy. Who is it from?” Marge climbs to her knees on her chair, leaning over the table to look at another letter, this one glimmering with gold dust and adorning the royal Summer seal.
“Language, Marjorie,” Papa sighs.
She grips the side of the table and offers him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Uncle Paul.”
By Thanatos. The only other time I’d received such a fancy missive was when I got my official invitation to the academy’s admission trials.
What if they’d finally connected the dots? Worse, what if Aidan, tired of waiting for an answer, had done something rash?
Papa’s thumb lingers on the royal seal, rubbing over it with fascination. When he finally hands it over, my stomach sinks. There’s no escaping this. “Well, Lizzie? Tell us who it’s from.”
My fingers tremble as I tear open the seal, the crisp parchment wrinkling under my touch. My eyes dart to the signature at the bottom, and I exhale, the weight on my chest lifting. “Willow Summers,” I breathe, relief washing over me.
Papa’s eyes brighten at the name, and he settles back in his chair. “Well? Tell us more.”
I discreetly slip Aidan’s note between my thighs, hiding it from view.
“Yes, tell us,” Kiro chimes in, his voice lively with curiosity.
Marge nods quickly. “Please.”
I glance at the three of them, their focus unwavering, and carefully edit out a few details before reading a few curated sentences of the letter aloud.
Dearest Beth,
I have dreadful news to share. My father insists I marry before the next semester even starts.
These antiquated traditions are suffocating. I wish I had the power to simply refuse, to choose my own path, but instead, I’m bound by my father’s will. He doesn’t care about my happiness. All that matters to him is making the right political match and solidifying our family’s influence over the continent. It’s so unfair, Beth, and I feel trapped, but my parents have made it crystal clear that my emotions and feelings do not count.
If I have to suffer through this wedding, I want you to be my kindred.
Please, please, please, say yes. As my kindred, you will be my guest of honor. I’ll arrange for someone to escort you to Eterna, and we can return to the academy together after the celebrations.
Anxiously awaiting your answer,
Willow
P.S. Please burn this letter after reading.
Papa sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s such an honor, Lizzie. You have to go.”
I carefully fold Willow’s letter back, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. “Of course. Willow’s my best friend.”
His chair creaks as he stands, the motion abrupt. “I’ll get some paper so you can write your answer. I’ll send it through the royal courier to avoid any unnecessary delays.”
I force a smile, nodding, and wait for him to return with a pen and some of our finest paper. As I begin to write my response to Willow’s missive, affirming my support and pledging to be there for her, my cheeks flush with an uncomfortable heat. Papa’s right. I can’t tell anyone about my Sea Fae blood. I have to act as though nothing is wrong. No one else can know but Devi. And I will never sing again.
I’m in too deep to back out.
Once the trip is arranged, I retreat to my room and shut the door behind me, the wood cool against my back. Alone at last, I unfold Aidan’s letter.
Dearest Songbird,
I can’t express in words how much I miss you, or how desperately I long for a response. But I choose to believe that you are not yet free to send a letter. I hope you find some small comfort in receiving mine, and if I am wrong in that belief, please accept my sincerest apologies.
Ezra’s and Willow’s wedding is all set for the end of the week. The servants have already begun decorating the Eternal Halls. It’s shaping up to be the wedding of the century.
I wish with all my heart that you could attend. I burn for you.
Wonder Boy
Not real.
Deep wrinkles form on the letter as I press it to my chest, my heart hammering. I miss him, too, more than I care to admit, but I can’t be with him anymore—not after what I’ve learned. He doesn’t truly love me; he’s trapped under my spell, ensnared by an enchantment I never meant to weave.
I stole his right to choose, violated his consent, and it’s killing me.
I feared the whole kindred business might be a ploy to lure me there, using Willow as a cover. I thought Aidan might have confided in her about us, but from the sound of it, he doesn’t even know I’ll be attending. A Summer royal wedding might seem romantic, but it’s the worst possible place to try to convince him that we should walk away from each other.
How can I face him—or explain why we can’t be together—without spilling my most dangerous secret yet?