Chapter 22 #2
“Goodness, Kazrian,” she gasped between giggles. “Who knew you possessed such romantic sensibilities?”
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone—”
“I won’t,” she assured him quickly.
And she wouldn’t. She knew it wasn’t embarrassment over admitting the depth of his feelings that concerned him. It was precisely whom Kazrian seemed to hope he might drown himself in, and the fact that she was decidedly not someone he should be harboring such feelings for.
After another stretch of quiet, Kazrian spoke again. “What of him?”
“Him? Which him?”
“Well … either of them, I suppose. Though particularly this fellow who appears to have been entirely besotted with you for almost a full year at this point. Have you considered that if he truly loves you, you’ll leave him utterly broken by rejecting him?
By retreating to your safe, unremarkable corner of the world? ”
Oh no. That dreadful thought hadn’t even occurred to her. R had always seemed so … resilient. But all she could see now were those words that had sent her into another spiraling panic:
There is nothing left for any enchantress to steal—you already have it all.
She had his heart, his hopes, his devotion. And if she said no to him a second time, she suspected there would be no going back to what they had before. This would be it. She would lose him, and he would be crushed.
As if her own tumult of feeling weren’t enough, she was suddenly burdened with the imagined ache of someone else’s heartbreak, a wave of secondhand sorrow she could neither soothe nor escape.
“I’m not attempting to make you feel worse,” Kazrian said quickly, apparently reading her distress.
“I’m only trying to remind you that there is another person in this equation.
Well—two, which does make the arithmetic rather untidy.
But for simplicity’s sake, let us consider just one.
Suppose he—either of them; both of them—truly is all that you’ve said.
Caring, patient, witty, wonderful. Do you honestly believe such a man would stand by and let you drown? ”
The words rose unbidden in her mind, R’s careful script seeming to shimmer before her eyes:
I swear to you that I would never let you drown.
Let me be your anchor.
You will not be swept away.
And the prince, whom she had not spelled out her exact fears to, but who had guessed the essence of them nonetheless:
You were perfectly safe. I would never allow you to come to harm.
“No,” Kazrian continued. “Of course he would not permit such a thing. You’re frightened, Lise.
I understand that. I know you experience everything with far greater intensity than most. But you need only do what you’ve always done.
Retreat when necessary. Take time to restore yourself through your music.
Then face your feelings again when you are ready.
If this gentleman—we’re still pretending there’s only one—truly loves you, he will understand.
He’ll grant you whatever time and space you require. ”
And she nearly began crying again, because hadn’t R written almost exactly that?
I have patience enough for both of us.
Take your time.
But if she did decide to take this leap … if she decided it was worth the risk of seeing whether she could survive the wave crashing over her … whom would she choose?
The world carried on quietly around them while Aurelise attempted to sort through the tangle of her thoughts.
R versus the prince. The prince had awakened feelings in her she’d never experienced—had desperately hoped never to experience, though now that she’d felt a hint of them and survived the encounter, perhaps she could survive more?
He was the one who had shared every reckless dare with her, the one beside whom she’d truly lived—not merely existed. With him, the world had felt vivid and immediate, not a thing to be observed from a safe and careful distance, but something to be touched, breathed, and wholly experienced.
But surely R knew her better? He was the one who’d penned the dare list in the first place.
The one who knew precisely how to challenge her.
He knew her heart, her soul, her deepest fears.
He was the one to whom she’d confessed how intensely she felt everything, and he was the one who’d promised to hold fast to her through any storm of emotion.
And there was the fact that she simply could not be a princess.
The very notion remained absurd. Perhaps not quite as absurd as it had seemed at the Season’s beginning.
Solstice Hall, she had to admit, was rather lovely.
Thimble and Spark were the most delightful of companions.
The kitchens had proven an excellent hiding place, the sky garden terrace a sanctuary, and the music room a haven all her own.
And there was that beautiful pianoforte …
But still. That could not possibly be her life.
What could be her life, however, if she took that single brave step …
I am still here.
I have patience enough for both of us.
And I would still be there, holding fast to you.
There is nothing left for any enchantress to steal—you already have it all.
From somewhere nearby, a voice called out softly, breaking through Aurelise’s thoughts. “Kazrian?”
Kazrian tensed immediately beside Aurelise. They both looked up as the owner of the familiar voice stepped into view around the glimmerbark’s broad trunk.
“Lucie!” Aurelise exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly.
She rose swiftly to her feet and moved forward, hoping to draw attention away from Kazrian, whom she sensed was uncomfortable in Lucie’s presence.
“How are you? I don’t believe I’ve seen you yet this Season.
Everything was a bit of a whirlwind at the start. ”
“Aurelise.” The girl smiled, her warm hazel eyes crinkling, then hesitated. “That is, Lady Aurelise. I—”
“Oh, please, none of that ‘lady’ formality,” Aurelise insisted, feeling suddenly awkward. She couldn’t bear the thought of being Lady Aurelise to the girl with whom she’d shared so many afternoons of laughter in these very gardens over the past several Seasons.
Lucie hesitated another moment before nodding, and Aurelise noticed how she very deliberately did not look in Kazrian’s direction. He had also risen by now, and moved to stand beside Aurelise.
“Your grandmother sent me to find you,” Lucie said, still not looking at Kazrian.
Aurelise’s stomach dropped. “Grandmother knows we’re out here?”
“I don’t believe she’s aware of your presence, my—Aurelise.
” There was a clear pause as she caught herself before the formal address.
“She simply requested I locate Kazrian, assuming he remained somewhere within the tea house, and I—well, I had observed him depart after—” Her cheeks colored slightly.
“And then I saw him encounter you and proceed in this direction.”
“Is all well?” Kazrian asked, his voice stiffer and more formal now.
“Yes.” A warm smile broke out across Lucie’s face. “Your grandmother just received word—Lady Iris has had her baby.”