Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryden paced the length of the sky garden terrace, his footsteps echoing against the stone with a hollow persistence that seemed to mock his restraint.
Every instinct screamed at him to follow her, to explain his motivations properly, to make her understand that this revelation—badly delivered though it had been—changed nothing of what lay between them.
He kept replaying every word, every gesture, every shift in her expression as understanding had crashed over her like a wave. The way her voice had cracked on “How could you?” The betrayal written across her features. The sound of her footsteps fleeing across the terrace stones.
He should not have revealed it like that.
The thought circled through his mind again and again.
He knew her—stars above, he knew her better than he knew almost anyone.
He knew that she processed difficult emotions best in solitude, that she needed the safety of distance to examine her feelings without the pressure of immediate response.
He should have written it in a letter, should have given her the courtesy of privacy for her initial reaction.
Then she might have been less overwhelmed while her world reorganized itself around this new, impossible truth.
But no. He’d been swept up in the moment, in the soft rose silk of her gown, in the intoxicating feel of her in his arms. And the addictive taste of the words ‘my princess’ on his lips—stars above, what he wouldn’t give to be able to whisper those words into her hair, night after night, for the rest of his—
Fool.
This was precisely the problem. He was so caught up in imagining the rest of their life together, while she was still trying to process the fact that he was the same man she’d been pouring her heart out to on paper for the past year.
Well. It was done now.
Ryden dropped onto the stone bench with a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his being, his elbows on his knees, his head falling into his hands.
Either way, she would require time. Time to process what he’d revealed.
Time to reconcile the two versions of him that had, until tonight, existed as separate entities in her mind.
Time to decide if she could forgive the deception, even if it had been born of desperation rather than malice.
His thoughts drifted to her earlier words about her brother—Kazrian could craft something to keep his magical surges in check. The possibility stirred a complex mixture of gratitude and melancholy in his chest.
If it worked, it meant freedom from the constant threat of uncontrolled power. No more careful distance maintained from others for fear of what his magic might do if provoked. It was a gift beyond measure.
And yet …
Some shamefully selfish part of him had found comfort in the knowledge that Aurelise’s music could soothe his magic.
That she alone could bring peace to the chaos that threatened to consume him.
It had felt like proof of something larger, something destined—as though the very universe had crafted them to be two halves of a whole.
But that was a dangerous thought, was it not?
He did not want her to feel obligated to choose him simply because his magic responded to hers.
Did not want her to wonder, years hence, if she’d been forced into a marriage by circumstance rather than choice.
If Kazrian’s solution worked, at least that particular burden would be lifted from her shoulders.
She could choose freely, without the weight of his magical instability influencing her decision.
“L,” he murmured aloud. Then, softer, “Lise.” And finally, with a tenderness that would have mortified him had anyone been present to witness it, “Aurelise.” A thoroughly besotted smile spread across his face, despite everything.
The confrontation on the terrace had been disastrous, certainly.
She’d fled from him as though he were something to be escaped, her music spiraling into chaos around her.
But beneath the sting of that rejection lay a profound relief that the truth was finally in the open.
No more careful performances, no more measured words designed to reveal just enough while concealing the full truth.
She knew now. She knew everything.
And though the uncertainty of her response was eating at him like acid—would she refuse him entirely?
Would she return home and never speak to him again?
—he could not suppress the hope that fluttered in his chest like a caged bird.
Perhaps, if fortune smiled upon him, she would grant him one more chance.
Perhaps he could write to her properly, as both himself and R united in one voice, and find the words to make her understand that they had always been the same person.
That every word he’d written had been true, every confession genuine, every declaration of love absolutely real.
Perhaps—
The sound of wingbeats cutting through the night air broke through his reverie. Ryden straightened, looking up to see a midnight-blue pegasus swooping toward the sky garden, silver sparks trailing from its wings.
Cobalt, he realized. Cobalt and Evryn.
The pegasus swooped low over the terrace, and Evryn dropped from the saddle. His boots hit the stone with a solid thud, and he tore off his riding cap, throwing it to the ground as Cobalt glided away into the night.
Ryden rose slowly from the bench, his muscles tensing instinctively.
“Tell me the truth.” Evryn’s voice was deadly quiet, all trace of his usual humor absent. His face was hard as granite in the moonlight, his hands clenched at his sides. “Tell me you did not know it was her.”
A chill shot through Ryden, swift and absolute. Somehow, Evryn had found out.
“Tell me,” Evryn continued, taking a step closer, “that you did not look me in the eye and lie when you spoke of this mystery woman whose identity you supposedly did not know.”
Ryden drew in a careful breath, forcing himself to meet his friend’s furious gaze. “I did not lie.”
“Really?” Disbelief dripped from the word. “You did not know you were writing to my sister? That you—”
“I did not know!” The words burst from Ryden with more force than he’d intended. “I know now, yes, and have known for some weeks, but when we spoke that morning—when I confessed to you about the letters—I had no notion that the woman I was writing to and Lady Aurelise were one and the same.”
Evryn released a cry of pure frustration, his hands flying to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as he lurched away. His voice, when it came again, was thick with self-recrimination. “How could I have let this happen?”
“You?” Ryden frowned, confusion momentarily overriding his defensive posture.
“Yes, me!” Evryn spun back to face him, and there was something almost wild in his expression.
“I suddenly remembered where I’d encountered such an enchanted letter box before.
We were merely perusing an oddities shop in Bloomhaven—Aurelise and I—and she discovered a curious wooden box that promised correspondence with an unknown recipient.
And I, in my infinite wisdom—” his voice turned bitter with self-mockery, “—believed the shop owner’s assurance that it was nothing more than a simple trick of magic and purchased it for her. And now here we are.”
He spread his hands wide, the gesture encompassing the terrace, the palace, the entire mess of a situation they now found themselves in.
“All she has ever wanted was a simple, quiet existence. A peaceful life away from the busyness of society and court and—” he gestured sharply at Ryden “—and men like you. And instead she’s wound up trapped at Solstice Hall, while you’ve been toying with her affections, leading her into stars know what manner of impropriety and—”
“Trapped? Toying with her?” The words ignited something hot and dangerous in Ryden’s chest. Yes, he’d convinced Aurelise to embrace a few improprieties—midnight swims and rooftop stargazing and that memorable evening with the driftshade—but he knew precisely what Evryn was implying, and it went beyond innocent mischief.
“Is that truly what you believe? That I have been amusing myself at your sister’s expense?
Are you still so determined to think so little of me? ”
“Yes!” Evryn stalked forward, his jaw tight with fury. “Because all evidence suggests—”
“Even after I told you that was little more than a public persona? A performance?”
“That was before I discovered it was my sister on the other end of your correspondence!”
Evryn closed the distance between them in two quick strides, his hands fisting in the front of Ryden’s jacket, yanking him forward until they were nearly nose to nose. His voice dropped to something low and dangerous.
“Tell me the truth. If you have been anything but a perfect gentleman with her—if you have taken even the smallest liberty that—”
“I will tell you the truth!”
Ryden gripped Evryn’s wrists and shoved him away, his own voice strained with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. The words came pouring out, raw and desperate and absolutely honest.
“I love her. Completely and endlessly, with everything in me. She has captivated me entirely—first through her words, her thoughts, and now in person, where she has exceeded every impossible dream I had of her. For almost the entirety of our correspondence, there has been no one else for me but her. No other lady has turned my head or touched my heart since her letters began arriving in that wooden box.”
He saw Evryn’s expression shift, some of the murderous intent fading into uncertainty, but Ryden pressed on, needing him to understand.
“You may believe me entirely unworthy of her, and in that, I—” He broke off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
“I would not disagree. She is far too good for me, too pure and smart and extraordinary for someone who has spent years playing at being someone he is not. But if she will have me—if she can step beyond her fear of what she believes royal life will be like, and if she can forgive the fact that I did not immediately reveal who I was upon first recognizing her—then I will spend the remainder of my days and nights devoted to ensuring she never regrets choosing me.”
Silence fell between them, heavy and complete save for the sound of their breathing gradually slowing from its heated pace.
Somewhere in the garden below, night creatures chirped their endless songs.
The fountain continued its gentle splash, indifferent to the drama playing out beside it.
The moon continued its path across the sky, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow.
Evryn stood very still, his expression cycling through several emotions Ryden could not quite identify. The fury had faded, replaced by something more complex. Resignation, perhaps. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a different quality.
“Well.” He cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “It seems I may have been … somewhat excessive in my response upon discovering precisely who your mysterious correspondent was.”
“Understandable,” Ryden responded tightly. “She is your sister. You clearly care for her. I don’t fault you for feeling protective.”
“And I apologize for …” Evryn rubbed the back of his neck. “Assuming the worst of you.”
“Again,” Ryden said, softer this time, “understandable.”
Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable so much as uncertain. Both men turned their gazes toward the moonlit gardens, as though the silvered calm below might offer a way to navigate the unease between them.
“I suppose,” Evryn said slowly, “if this all works out as you hope, you and I will be brothers.”
Ryden blinked, a tug pulling sharp and low in his chest. Brothers.
The word landed in an unexpected way, spreading into warmth, longing, the ache of old loneliness easing.
He had always loved and envied Ellian’s family.
The loud, chaotic jumble of siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles.
But though they were Ryden’s family too, they remained distanced by the fact that his link to Ellian was not one that could ever be claimed publicly.
The thought of gaining not just a wife but an entire new family who would tease and argue and support each other through everything life might bring … Well, it had not even occurred to Ryden.
“I think,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion he did not try to hide, “I would rather like that.”