Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
The music room lay shrouded in darkness, save for the faint shimmer of moonlight that crept through the tall windows.
Aurelise had tucked herself into the narrow space behind the settee where Prince Ryden’s childhood toy chest sat, her knees drawn up to her chest. He might search for her here—he knew this had become her favorite sanctuary within Solstice Hall, after all—but from this particular angle, she remained invisible from the doorway.
If he glanced inside and saw nothing, perhaps he would continue his search elsewhere.
She needed time. Time to think, to breathe, to make sense of the impossible truth that had just shattered her understanding of everything.
R and Ryden. The same person.
It felt as though the world had tipped on its axis, leaving her to view everything from a strange new angle.
At first, the revelation had been too vast to comprehend, too impossible to hold all at once.
She had tried, quite literally, to run from it.
But as she sat there in the stillness of the music room, her heartbeat gradually steadying, another feeling began to surface, quiet, startling, and entirely unexpected. Relief.
A small, incredulous laugh escaped her lips, quickly muffled behind her hand.
How had she not seen it? They possessed the same teasing wit, the same ability to coax her from her careful reserve with gentle provocations.
They both saw through her protests to the truth beneath, both challenged her to be braver than she believed possible.
The man who’d written ‘take a midnight swim’ was the same one who had chased her all the way to the lake and persuaded her to step into it.
The correspondent who’d penned ‘be entirely improper’ had stood beside her through every scandalous moment.
No wonder she had fallen in love with both of them.
The thought sent a flutter of something dangerously close to joy through her chest. She would not have to choose.
Would not have to break anyone’s heart by selecting one over the other.
She could have them both—the man who knew her soul through ink and paper, and the one who’d drawn her so thoroughly from her shell that at times she barely recognized the brave creature she’d become.
Except …
She tipped her head back against the settee, eyes sliding shut as a quiet groan escaped her. Saying yes to them—him—meant marrying a prince. Taking on a role she’d insisted from the very moment of the Crown Court announcement that she could never, would never, absolutely could not possibly fulfill.
Though, a traitorous voice whispered in her mind, she would have sworn with equal vehemence that she could never swim in a lake, or smoke driftshade leaf, or stand up on behalf of those who were not in a position to stand up for themselves. Yet she’d done all those things and more.
Perhaps she had been just the tiniest bit mistaken about the princess matter as well?
A smile curved her lips despite everything. Ryden had known exactly what he was doing with that dare list. Each challenge carefully calibrated to push her boundaries while keeping her safe, building her confidence one small rebellion at a time.
And this room—stars above, this room. When he’d brought her here, speaking of his grandmother who’d been quiet and shy, who’d needed sanctuary from the overwhelming demands of court life, he had not been making casual conversation.
He had been showing her that there would always be a place for her here.
A refuge when the world became too much.
The realization made her heart ache with a tender sort of pain. He’d been preparing a space for her in his life before she’d even known who he truly was.
But that pain—that aching flood of feeling—was still the most terrifying part of all of this. She was not yet convinced that she would actually survive it if she let go entirely and stepped over the edge and into the unknown.
The sound of the door opening shattered her reverie. The faelights flared and brightened, filling the room with a warm glow. Footsteps—no, two sets of footsteps—entered the room. Aurelise pressed herself deeper into her hiding spot, barely daring to breathe.
“We can speak freely here,” came a voice that made Aurelise’s blood turn to ice.
The High Lady herself, her tone carrying its usual regal authority.
“The room is enchanted to prevent any sound from entering or leaving. We shall not be overheard. Had I known of your visit in advance, we might have used my private withdrawing room, but it is currently undergoing a rather thorough overnight cleansing spell.”
“I suppose this will suffice,” came another familiar voice that sent a different sort of chill through Aurelise’s veins. Her grandmother. What was she doing at Solstice Hall at this hour? “I’ve been in this room before, as it so happens. Many years past. With your mother.”
The soft rustle of silk indicated they were settling themselves somewhere within the room. Aurelise held herself perfectly still, terrified that even the slightest movement might betray her presence.
“Was this unexpected visit truly necessary?” The High Lady’s voice carried a note of barely concealed irritation. “You realize we might have spoken tomorrow evening at the Festival of Lantern Wishes? I believe an invitation was dispatched to Rowanwood House.”
“No.” Her grandmother’s tone left no room for argument. “I must remove my granddaughter from this situation without further delay. The improprieties that have transpired here—I cannot allow them to proceed even a moment longer.”
Aurelise’s heart hammered against her ribs. This concerned her. And the prince. But what improprieties did her grandmother know of? And more importantly, how could she possibly know?
“In addition,” Lady Rivenna continued, “the tea leaves have revealed glimpses of something I simply cannot permit to unfold.”
“Cannot permit?” A thread of amusement wove through the High Lady’s response. “You attempt now to interfere with fate itself?”
“Your Grace, you know I have been happily interfering since The Charmed Leaf’s creation.”
The High Lady sighed. “Yes, I suppose I am well aware of this.” Several moments of weighted silence passed, during which Aurelise wondered if they could hear her thundering heartbeat.
“So,” Lady Rivenna continued eventually. “As I said, I would like to remove—”
“He loves her.”
Aurelise went utterly still. She wasn’t certain she was even drawing breath.
“Love?” Her grandmother’s voice dripped skepticism. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I do not believe your son is capable of—”
“And that,” the High Lady interrupted, steel threading through her tone, “is precisely where you are mistaken. You believe your tea house, with its … exceptional magic, reveals all truths. But it does not. The only knowledge you possess of my son comes from rumors and the salacious tales that circulate through Bloomhaven’s drawing rooms.”
“That is not all I know of him,” Lady Rivenna replied, her words weighted with unspoken meaning.
A pause stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring.
“I certainly hope,” the High Lady said slowly, dangerously, “that you are not attempting to leverage my secrets, Lady Rivenna. For I would wager the confidences I hold of yours carry equal weight.”
“I threaten nothing. We have guarded each other’s secrets for years. That shall not change now.”
“Good.” The High Lady’s tone softened marginally.
“Now that we have dispensed with that unpleasantness, allow me to speak plainly. I realize my maternal bias, but I know my son far better than any collection of gossip birds and loose-tongued society matrons. I have observed him closely since the Crown Court commenced. His feelings for Lady Aurelise are beyond question.”
Aurelise pressed both hands over her mouth. Though she knew this to be true already—she’d heard the words ‘I love you’ from Ryden’s own lips, after all—hearing someone else declare it made her, somehow, want to giggle.
Fabric rustled as one of the two women shifted position.
“I thought we had reached an accord regarding this matter, before the Crown Court even began,” Lady Rivenna said.
“You harbored concerns about the unsuitability of her magic, while I worried over the mismatch of their … temperaments, let us say. We both decided there would be no match between them.”
A jolt of indignation pierced Aurelise. How easily these two women had spoken of her and the prince as though they were mere pawns to be arranged.
“We were in agreement, yes. However—”
“Then I am here to remove my granddaughter with immediate effect. The things I have learned of that are taking place within these walls—”
“Things?” The High Lady’s voice sharpened to a blade’s edge. “What precisely have you learned? And through what means?”
“Surely you did not imagine I would send Aurelise here unaccompanied, without some method of ensuring her safety?”
What? Aurelise’s mind reeled in confusion.
More rustling, and then she heard the High Lady’s voice, pitched with incredulity: “What exactly did you dispatch with her?”
Silence.
Then an incredulous laugh escaped the High Lady. “You sent one of your plants. Those tea house vines that excel at—”
“Very well, yes,” Lady Rivenna interrupted, a note of defensiveness creeping into her tone. “I presented it as a gift, a reminder of home. But indeed, the vines have been whispering their observations, and what I have heard has been most—”
The High Lady let out another laugh, a sound caught somewhere between astonishment and reluctant admiration. “Oh, Lady Rivenna. You are truly something extraordinary.”
But Aurelise barely heard her. Heat flooded her veins, and her breath came quick and shallow as she pictured the oversized teacup with its trailing green-gold leaves—the gift she’d cherished as a piece of home. It had been observing her? Spying on her?