Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The night air carried the scent of jasmine and wonder as Aurelise stepped from the palace doors into the transformed gardens of Solstice Hall.
She paused at the threshold, one hand pressed to her heart, the other clutching the silver moonflare token she’d been turning over in her fingers all day.
Above her, the sky had become a canvas of impossible beauty.
Dozens of paper lanterns drifted upward on invisible currents of magic, each one glowing from within. Some burned with the warm gold of summer afternoons, others shimmered in shades of rose and lavender, while a precious few gleamed silver-white as they ascended toward their celestial destinations.
Guests inscribe wishes on enchanted parchment, Ryden had told her the night they had sat beside the lake, then fold them into lanterns. When released, they rise into the night sky.
Above her, the lanterns rose in graceful spirals, dancing around one another in patterns that seemed almost choreographed, as though the wishes themselves knew how to waltz. It made her want to lift her hands and trail her fingers through the air, calling forth an accompanying melody.
She had spent most of the day sequestered in her chambers, alternating between pacing the length of her room and sitting frozen on her bed, staring at the letter that had been waiting in her enchanted box when she’d woken that morning.
She wanted to write the same words back to him.
She also wanted to say them out loud, in person.
But minutes had stretched into hours, and now the festival was well underway, and it seemed she had yet to find her courage.
So she had clutched the moonflare token to her chest, taken a deep breath, and finally ventured forth from her chambers.
The gardens were filled with the soft murmur of voices and gentle laughter.
She could see the Crown Court ladies in their finest gowns, their faces tilted skyward as they watched their wishes attempt to find their matching stars.
The High Lady presided over it all from an elevated pavilion draped in silver silk. And somewhere among them all was Ryden.
Her stomach performed a series of acrobatic maneuvers that would have impressed even the palace performers. After everything that had transpired, she knew exactly where they stood. She knew he loved her. She knew she loved him. She knew she’d already made her choice.
So why did the thought of actually seeing him, of looking into those eyes that knew all her secrets, make her feel as though she might dissolve into a thousand glowing fragments? In a good way, of course. In what she was beginning to suspect might possibly be the best way.
“You remember the plan?” Aurelise whispered as Thimble darted past her in a pink and purple blur.
Thimble twirled midair before darting back and hovering at eye level, her whiskers practically vibrating with excitement.
Oh yes, my lady! We locate the prince, create a spectacular distraction so everyone looks elsewhere, then Spark and I shall ingeniously maneuver him behind the rose bushes where you may FINALLY kiss him senseless!
Heat flooded Aurelise’s cheeks. “Well. Yes. Something like that.”
WONDERFUL! Thimble declared, spinning in a delighted circle. This is the most romantic mission we’ve ever undertaken! Oh! But my lady— The mouse’s eyes went perfectly round. Your gloves! You’ve forgotten them!
“Oh dear,” Aurelise said, knowing perfectly well she’d left them in her chambers with deliberate intent.
She’d spent the better part of the afternoon imagining what it might feel like to slide her bare fingers through a certain prince’s beautiful blue hair.
And truly, out here in the garden’s gentle darkness, who would even notice the absence of proper hand attire?
A disapproving puff of glittery smoke drifted past her ear.
“What?” she asked innocently, turning to find Spark perched on a nearby garden statue, his golden eyes narrowed with suspicion.
I am merely observing, came his telepathic drawl, that for someone who claims to have ‘forgotten’ her gloves, you seem remarkably unconcerned about retrieving them.
“Perhaps I’m embracing spontaneity,” Aurelise suggested, beginning to walk deeper into the gardens. “Is that not what you and Thimble have been encouraging me to do all Season?”
There is spontaneity, Spark replied, gliding alongside her, and then there is scandalous behavior designed specifically to facilitate the touching of royal persons.
Aurelise’s already warm cheeks heated further. “I haven’t the faintest notion what you mean.”
Thimble giggled. Oh, Spark, you’re such a tremendous fussbudget! This is romance! True love! The culmination of—OH! Her squeak could have shattered crystal. I SEE HIM! I SEE HIM!
Aurelise’s heart attempted to flee her chest entirely. “Oh stars,” she breathed, pressing both hands to her stomach. “Is love supposed to make one feel quite so … ill?”
According to the academic literature, Spark intoned, the physiological symptoms of romantic attachment often mimic those of mild food poisoning. Elevated heart rate, occasional lightheadedness—
“How wonderfully reassuring,” Aurelise managed, though she was already moving toward the rose garden, drawn by an invisible thread.
Ready, my lady? Thimble asked, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Aurelise nodded, though readiness seemed an entirely foreign concept at present. She slipped between the tall rose bushes, their blooms releasing perfume into the night air, and tried to quiet her thundering pulse.
Behind her, she heard what could only be described as theatrical chaos.
Thimble’s squeaks rose in what might have been an attempt at mouse-sized operatic performance, while Spark contributed several dramatic roars that wouldn’t have frightened a kitten.
There was a crash, startled exclamations, and what sounded suspiciously like Lady Ellowa shrieking about her hair.
Aurelise pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh—
“Well,” came a familiar voice, warm with amusement and accompanied by the sound of stumbling footsteps, “that was certainly subtle.”
She spun around, and there he was. Prince Ryden came to a halt before her, looking slightly disheveled, definitely startled, and absolutely perfect. His jacket bore evidence of what appeared to be tiny paw prints on the shoulders, as though he’d been physically herded into the roses.
“Hello,” she breathed.
“Hello,” he replied, and his smile was so tender, so full of unguarded affection, that her knees went rather uncertain.
“Hello,” she said again, which was ridiculous, because she was fairly certain she had just said that.
His smile stretched wider. “Hello … L.”
They stood there for a moment, simply looking at each other, twin smiles playing at their lips. The sounds of the festival seemed very far away, as though they’d stepped into their own private world where only lantern light and roses existed.
This was him. R. The man whose words had lived in her thoughts and threaded through her daydreams for so long stood before her now—real, tangible, hers. Could her heart possibly bear so much happiness?
“So,” he said finally, his voice carrying that teasing quality she’d come to adore, “I heard rumors of someone completing a certain dare list. Or very nearly completing it.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head, finding her courage somewhere in his familiar warmth. “What might you have heard?”
“Only that a certain lady—who previously insisted she could never stand up to anyone who frightened her—boldly confronted none other than the High Lady herself.”
“And Lady Rivenna Rowanwood,” Aurelise added, lifting her chin with a touch of pride. “Who I would argue is perhaps even more terrifying than your mother.”
“Oh, without question,” Ryden agreed immediately.
“Mother merely rules a kingdom. Your grandmother could reduce grown men to tears with a single raised eyebrow.” He paused, his expression softening.
“My mother is well aware of this. She told me that if she hadn’t already been impressed by you, watching you stand your ground against your formidable grandmother would have convinced her entirely. ”
“Your mother is … impressed by me?”
“Indeed she is.” He offered another of those disarming smiles, the sort that left her knees unreliable and her pulse quite incapable of behaving itself.
She looked up at the lanterns drifting overhead, needing a moment to gather herself. “The festival is beautiful,” she said softly. “I can understand why it’s among your favorites.”
“Have you made a wish yet?”
“Not yet. Have you?”
“Mmm.” His smile curve up on one side. “It might have contained a word beginning with L.”
She quirked an eyebrow, finding refuge in their familiar banter. “Lamentable liar?”
His laugh was rich and genuine. “Actually, it was rather shorter. Four letters. Begins with L-I and rhymes with ‘fleece.’”
She glanced down before daring to look up at him through her lashes, a shy smile ghosting across her lips. “You know you do not need to wish for me,” she murmured. “You already have me.”
His gaze flared—warmth and adoration blazing into something bright and unguarded. “Stars,” he breathed, “if I did notlove you so completely already, that would undo me all over again.”
The raw honesty in his voice sent heat blooming across her cheeks.
“And I shall never tire of how beautiful you are when you blush,” he continued. “Is that too forward? I’m saying it regardless. You blush frequently and it’s utterly enchanting and I adore it.”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in her chest. “You sound like … him. You. The way you write in your letters.”
“Well, yes. We are, as it happens, the same person.”
The reminder made her feel shy again, the magnitude of it all—that her secret correspondent and this wonderful, maddening prince were one—threatening to overwhelm her.