Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“So,” Mariselle said, leaning forward with the particular gleam in her eyes that always preceded an inquiry of the most inappropriate variety, “has Prince Ryden attempted to kiss you yet?”
Aurelise nearly choked on her tea—sugarplum whimsy, her childhood favorite, which the tea house had decided was precisely the blend she needed today—before setting the delicate porcelain cup down on its saucer. “Mariselle!”
“What?” Her sister-in-law’s expression was all innocence, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the mischievous curl at the corner of her lips. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question, given that he selected you for the opening dance at the Crown Court Ball.”
“An entirely reasonable inquiry,” Rosavyn agreed, regarding Aurelise with avid curiosity. “One might even say essential to our understanding of current events.”
If only they knew how alarmingly close their teasing strayed to the truth. The prince had, after all, offered his assistance with dare number twelve.
The three of them were seated at one of the coveted window tables at The Charmed Leaf Tea House, afternoon sunlight filtering through the vines that framed the glass, casting dancing shadows across their tea service.
The scents of exotic teas, warm scones and delicate pastries wrapped around Aurelise like a cherished memory made tangible.
She had specifically requested they come here today.
This was her first Season properly out in society, her first opportunity to sit at these elegant tables as a lady in her own right rather than merely Lady Rivenna’s granddaughter permitted to lurk in the kitchen or scurry through the garden and the rooms upstairs.
Previously, she had only been allowed to visit as a true patron when she was seated demurely beside her mother on quiet afternoons when the tea house was nearly empty.
How ironically fitting that she, despite her new title, should feel like somewhat of an imposter in these elegant surroundings, while Rosavyn—who had yet to make her formal debut—sat beside her as comfortably as though she’d been taking tea at The Charmed Leaf for years.
“It’s all the gossip birds have been squawking about since the Crown Court Ball,” Rosavyn continued. “He chose you to dance with first, after all.”
“The gossip birds are full of nonsense,” Aurelise said, “as you well know. And I’ve already explained to you—and Evryn, who seemed for some reason to be particularly upset about it—why he selected me first.”
“Oh yes, that remarkably contradictory explanation about him having absolutely no interest in you whatsoever, yet finding you so utterly fascinating that he craves genuine conversation with you instead of the pretense he allegedly maintains with everyone else.”
Aurelise sighed. She did not feel comfortable revealing the true reason, which she’d overheard whispered between her mother and grandmother upon her return home.
That the prince’s choice had been a calculated kindness, meant to further soften the rumors clinging to the Rowanwood name and improve how society regarded her sister.
“You’re clearly doing a terrible job of convincing him you’re boring, Lise,” Rosavyn added.
“Indeed, your grandmother is quite convinced he’s plotting to lure you into some shadowed alcove and make off with your virtue before the Season is out,” Mariselle added.
“Mariselle!” Aurelise exclaimed yet again, her face burning now, though she could hardly claim to be surprised by her grandmother’s opinion. Not after the interrogation she had endured on the matter the previous evening.
She had sought her grandmother’s advice about her upcoming tea at Solstice Hall.
After all, who better to help her organize her thoughts and create a practical list of everything that needed to be accomplished than the woman who’d been masterfully running the renowned and cherished Charmed Leaf Tea House for decades?
But apparently, that discussion could only begin after a full inquest into her interactions with the prince.
“He has not made you feel uncomfortable, I hope?”
Only to the point of near cardiac arrest when I fell into a flowerbed in front of him.
Instead, she’d managed a serene smile and said, “No, Grandmother.”
“He hasn’t attempted anything … improper?”
Does spending half an hour alone together in the music room count?
“Of course not, Grandmother.”
“Good. He is a dreadful specimen—spends his days and nights flirting his way about the United Fae Isles. Stars help us all when he ascends the throne.”
Aurelise had nodded dutifully, though her mind was already wandering—to the memory of him beneath the starlight, his voice low and thoughtful as he spoke of the Shaded Lands, and to the sight of him outside the palace kitchens, sleeves rolled up as he helped the herb master lift a heavy planter, sunlight glinting in his hair. That easy, unstudied smile.
“I think perhaps you might be wrong, Grandmother,” she had mused.
Lady Rivenna’s head had snapped around, her gaze sharp as always. “What was that, young lady?”
Oh, stars, had she said that out loud? “Oh—I simply said—yes, you are right, Grandmother.”
“Did he not find the historical evolution of spoon design dull enough?” Rosavyn asked, drawing Aurelise’s attention back to the present.
“Oh, I haven’t attempted that particular topic yet, but I did ramble about opinionated plants and he quite literally fled in the opposite direction, so I thought my efforts had succeeded.
But then he selected me to open the dancing at the ball, and he told me he found my comments charming, so I’m genuinely perplexed about what qualifies as ‘dull’ these days. ”
She directed a frown at her teacup as she lifted it. “You needn’t concern yourselves, though,” she added as she lifted the cup toward her lips. “He’s assured me he won’t be choosing me. And now that that particular worry is resolved, I find I actually … don’t particularly mind his company.”
Mariselle gave her a knowing smile. “Did I not suggest he might possesses slightly more depth than his reputation would indicate?”
“Well, whether he possesses hidden qualities or not,” Rosavyn said, reaching across the table for Aurelise’s hand, “the fact remains that you have survived a full fortnight of this Crown Court with remarkable fortitude. I am exceedingly proud of you, little Lise.”
A fortnight. Had it truly been so short a time?
In the ten days since she’d completed dare number two on R’s list—explore somewhere new and bring back evidence—Aurelise had barely had a moment to contemplate which challenge might be feasible to attempt next.
She’d skipped firmly over number three (the mere thought of deliberately flirting with someone still made her stomach perform uncomfortable acrobatics), and before she could properly evaluate the remaining options, she’d been swept into the relentless current of Crown Court obligations.
There had been an afternoon of lawn games where she’d desperately tried to fade into the background while Lady Bernelle demonstrated her superior croquet skills with enthusiasm that bordered on aggression.
A musicale the following evening where each Crown Court lady had been expected to perform—Aurelise’s magical music had at least spared her the mortification of conversation afterward, as everyone seemed rather stunned into silence.
The remainder of the evening had passed in an unusually peaceful manner, with tempers and rivalries apparently subdued.
Then came the first of the afternoon teas, hosted by Lady Ellowa with such rigid perfection that Aurelise had been afraid to breathe wrong lest she disturb the militant symmetry of the table settings.
Each evening, she’d collapsed onto her bed once Marta had unpinned her hair, loosened her gown, and bid her a fond goodnight, too weary for anything else. Well, nearly too weary. She always found energy enough to write to R.
Their correspondence remained the most cherished part of her day.
A delicious warmth unfurled in her chest each time she opened the box and found one of his letters waiting within.
When she paused long enough to think about it, she realized her reactions—the fluttering pulse, the breath she forgot to take, the heat that rose to her cheeks—had only grown more intense since their exchange had resumed.
It was alarming, really. But fortunately, she’d been far too busy (and far too tired) to dwell on the matter for long.
And suddenly, though it had seemed a lifetime away when she’d arrived at Solstice Hall, her first fortnight was complete.
She’d found herself climbing into a carriage with surprisingly mixed feelings, eager to see her family but also realizing she would miss Thimble and Spark—and that beautiful pianoforte she had played twice more since the prince first introduced her to it.
“I do apologize for my tardiness,” a familiar voice announced, and Kazrian appeared at their table, carrying the distinct aroma of the kitchen about him—cinnamon and butter and something wonderfully sweet.
“Finally!” Rosavyn exclaimed, straightening as Kazrian slipped into the chair directly beside Aurelise. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten us entirely.”
“Never. I was merely detained in conversation.”
“Oh?” Aurelise studied her twin, who had yet to meet her gaze. “With Grandmother?”
“With Lucie,” he said, still not looking at her. “Grandmother’s set her to enchanting the most dangerously delicious lemon drops in the kitchen. Positively addictive. I swear she’s better at that than most fae confectioners, and the magic isn’t even hers.”