Chapter 13
Aira didn’t linger much longer before the effort to remain visible became too exhausting for her, time that was too short for me to seek more information about the place where she resided when she wasn’t in the visible world, nor details about what she remembered about my relationship with Lucien.
After her promise to visit me again soon she faded from view, leaving nothing to distract me from the suspicions she’d introduced. I sighed as I gazed at his sleeping face, feeling a stab of guilt for doubting him after the kindness he’d bestowed. Thin slants of moonlight fell across his relaxed expression that bore no hint of deceit or the malice Aira was convinced he harbored.
I drifted closer and smiled at the sight of his rumpled hair, trying to imagine its texture if I could really feel it the way I’d felt Aira’s hand. As if he noticed my presence, he sleepily stirred. “Lisette…”
I jerked back and stilled. I waited with bated breath as he tossed and turned before finally settling against his blankets with a weary sigh. Several moments passed before I released my breath in a rush of relief. My heart pounded at the memory of his sweet murmur cradling my name, a sound that lingered in the stillness of the night that I yearned to hear again. With each beat my resolve to seek out the truth of his feelings grew.
I floated about the impeccably tidy room; as befitting Lucien’s personality nothing seemed out of place, leaving me little to explore in my quest for answers since I couldn’t open any doors or drawers. The only area of interest was his desk where an unfinished letter lay next to a neat stack of books. I paused momentarily to skim the titles, all related to Brimoire’s earliest history, before turning my attention to the sheet of parchment. Moonlight glistened across the inky words, barely discernible in the silvery light.
My breath caught as I read the single word scrawled beneath the date from a week ago: Lisette. I stared at my name and all the blank space that followed, unable to look away. I tried to imagine all that Lucien might have written if he’d finished the letter, words he hadn’t been able to summon in the week since he’d begun.
I finally tore my gaze away to take in the crumpled bunches of parchment scattered across the desk, a surprising contrast to the otherwise orderly room, speaking to the emotion Lucien must have felt as he crushed them. Though I knew I couldn’t unfold them to discover their contents, from my wrinkled name I’d glimpsed on one of the balls that had been tossed aside, I surmised that they were unfinished letters that had never been sent.
This discovery only invited more questions. Thankfully I was able to investigate further in hopes of answering them when I noticed one of the desk drawers open just wide enough for me to slip my hand through. I expected it to pass through the drawer’s contents, but to my shock I made contact with the familiar feel of parchment against my exploring fingertips.
I lost myself in the smooth touch I discerned belonged to an envelope, the first real sensation I’d experienced since losing my body. I allowed myself to bask in it a moment before I tentatively curled my fingers around the paper, marveling that I was able to slowly withdraw the bundle through the narrow opening, letters addressed to Lucien in a penmanship I recognized as my own.
This was the correspondence I’d sent him throughout our past courtship, carefully preserved all of these years and tied with a ribbon in my favorite color, yellow. Though my fingers went through the satin, I was able to maneuver the top letter in order to slide it from the stack. The letter was clearly worn from being opened many times and faintly smudged. Perhaps my connection with Lucien allowed me to handle something that he had not only touched so often but which apparently possessed a strong emotional connection to him.
I unfolded it with trembling fingers and immediately recognized the first letter I’d ever written my intended, dated three years ago, just after our engagement had been finalized.
The words drew me back in time. Though the curse had robbed me of details I’d been unable to recall, the magic hadn’t been able to reach the letters; each word seemed to contain its own memory that my consciousness had otherwise forgotten—insecurity, apprehension, fear, hurt, and most of all desperation for my words to make a connection with the one who had then been a faceless stranger receiving them. I held the letter close, trying to stretch my memories back to when I’d penned it, but I only managed to retrieve a few glimmers of reminiscence.
I slowly worked my way through each letter that served as a chronicle for every month since our engagement, often pausing to try and decipher the emotions that might have filled each pen stroke or find a deeper message hidden between the lines.
With each one I waited for the distant tone to shift and the contents to depart from political affairs and bland mentions of the weather and health, but no matter how many I searched, I found nothing romantic about their contents, no hint of the courtship Lucien had assured me we’d experienced together.
From what I witnessed, such an emotion never developed between you two…which means he must be lying. Try as I might to forget Aira’s words, they weighed heavily upon me, yet I kept searching, never giving up hope that perhaps the affection I’d spent my entire life seeking would be found in the next letter, though each seemed briefer and more dispassionate than the last.
I continued my search long after the morning dawned, for though Lucien had mentioned he enjoyed rising early, his exhaustion lingered beyond the long night and he showed no signs of waking…though the extra time offered little by way of new information, leaving me nothing to show for my efforts.
The sound of Lucien rousing yanked me from the letter I currently perused. I hastily hid it behind my back, the most inefficient of hiding places when he would be able to see it through my shimmery form. I glanced in the nearby mirror to confirm this fear and my breath caught.
I’d expected to see a reflection of the shimmery outline currently comprising my form, but the only thing that showed up within the glass was the letter I held, creating the sensation that it was floating in mid-air. It appeared that the magic that allowed Lucien to see me didn’t apply to myself.
I hastily dropped the stack of letters back into the drawer, shoving them through the narrow opening just as Lucien stirred with a rather adorable sleepy moan and sat up, blinking blearily at the clock on the mantle before jolting more fully awake with a gasp. “I’ve overslept!”
His frantic gaze sought me out, and after assuring himself that I hadn’t faded away in the hours he slept, his blankets tangled around his legs as he scrambled to his feet, nearly causing him to trip in his haste to the wardrobe. His indiscernible frustrated mutterings were soon masked by the sounds of his chaotic rummaging through his clothes.
I watched in fascination. His disheveled hair stuck up at all angles, and the clothes that he had now worn for three days without changing were rumpled and wrinkled—the opposite of the portrait of a proper prince I’d come to expect, yet somehow his imperfections made him all the more handsome.
He paused his frantic search to look up at me in wide-eyed realization. “I can’t change with you in the room…but I’m afraid of being apart from you for too long.” He stood with his arms bulging with mismatched outfits, trapped in uncertainty.
“The fact we spent hours apart the first day means we likely can spend some time a short distance apart.”
“But what if we’re mistaken? I would never forgive myself if you disappeared just because I needed to change my clothes.”
I managed a smile. “Nothing will break our promised courtship so easily.” The words felt strange on my tongue, making me wonder after my discoveries during the night just how strong our courtship actually was.
When he remained unmoving, I took the initiative to head towards the door, but my hand only went through the knob—it appeared that my ability to lift a single letter didn’t translate to heavier objects or those without an emotional connection. The door was no barrier to my translucent form, but before I could slide through it like a ghostly phantom, Lucien rushed forward to chivalrously open it for me.
“I’ll be but a moment; please remain close and don’t disappear,” he pleaded.
There were too many lingering mysteries for me to go anywhere. Before I could reassure him, the guard standing rigidly just outside glanced over with furrowed brows, seeming to take no notice of me. “It is my duty to remain at my post, Your Highness.”
Lucien startled, nearly dropping his armful of clothes as he faced his guard. “Right. Thank you for your service.”
He crouched to pick up his scattered garments, something that took several attempts when his fluster only caused him to drop them again. I bent down to help him, but my hands only slid through the fabric as they had with the doorknob.
“It’s alright, I’ve got it,” Lucien insisted before he stiffened and cast the guard still watching him another embarrassed look. The moment he retrieved his clothes and made a safe retreat into his room, I heard him groan, the door not thick enough to muffle his frustration. “What an image for the crown prince to bear. He undoubtedly thinks I’m talking to myself like a lunatic.”
Though the situation shouldn’t be amusing I found my lips twitching, especially at the guard’s bewildered look as he stared after Lucien before shaking his head and resuming his post. He continued to stare unwaveringly ahead even after I experimented walking past him several times to see if the movement would draw his notice, but just as before I remained out of sight.
Though being seen by Lucien’s guard would only create unnecessary complications, it bothered me that I couldn’t be noticed even if I wanted to be, an unexpected desire that went against my usual tendency to blend into my surroundings as a form of protection.
I finally gave up my attempts at visibility and stood in front of Lucien’s room to wait, a time that seemed to lengthen with my missing him, a promising emotion considering my concerns about our relationship. After several restless minutes I detected movement on the other side of the door. I broke my rigid posture and leaned against it…but rather than rest my ear against the smooth wood, my entire body fell through, sending me tumbling to the ground inside Lucien’s chamber.
After I settled in a flurry of tangled skirts and an awkward position that would have been quite painful if I still had a body, the first thing I noticed upon hastily straightening was Lucien looming half-dressed over me, his shirt hanging listlessly in his slackened grip, offering nothing to obscure my view of his bare chest.
A pleasant flutter tickled my stomach as I took in his firm muscles, toned from his years of sword training. But then I met his wide, startled eyes; if mortification was a force that could make me disappear, this situation alone was cause for me to vanish forever and never return.
I finally summoned enough discipline to look away. “My apologies, I didn’t mean—I momentarily forgot that I’m invisible, so when I leaned against the door to wait…I tumbled through it.” The situation might have been amusing if not for my burning mortification, an emotion strong enough to surpass the limits of the curse to heat my cheeks.
He didn’t respond nor look up from where he’d buried his blush in his hands, a position that did little to cover up the chiseled chest I couldn’t look away from. I experienced the strangest urge to run my fingertips across his muscles—a gesture far more bold than my earlier innocent exploration of his hair—and was for once immensely grateful I couldn’t actually touch him.
He suddenly remembered himself and hastily finished dressing, his muscles tightening in an appealing way as he pulled his shirt over his head. My blush flared and I hastily averted my gaze. After a moment’s pause he approached and crouched in front of me to better peer into my face.
“I can’t believe I subjected my fiancée to something so dishonorable. Words alone cannot convey my regret.”
I pushed through my crippling shyness in order to peer up at him. Crimson stained his cheeks, but even midst his embarrassment his look was gentle with understanding. “It’s my fault for falling through the door.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m amazed how well you’re navigating your current condition.” His lips twitched. “I confess such an unexpected interruption has never occurred as I’ve prepared for the day. You’ve made my life so much brighter.”
My heart fluttered at the sentiment, a draw more powerful than the one from accidentally stumbling in on him topless, adding brushstrokes of color to a world once cast in hues of grey to bring meaning where it didn’t used to exist.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, we shouldn’t interact until I’m more presentable.” He self-consciously smoothed down his messy hair still dripping from his hurried bath, as if that alone would be enough to make his appearance more presentable, before deliberately turning his back on me, giving me a new but equally pleasant view of his musculature.
“You’re more approachable when you’re not behaving as a perfect prince.” I wasn’t sure where my recollections of his intimidating stoicism came from when I constantly felt I was drawing from an empty well, only that the knowledge came from a part of me deeper than my vanished memories.
He stilled before glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes bulging. “What?”
“You’re rather intimidating when you’re closed off; it makes it difficult to know how to interact with you. I prefer you this way.” Normally I wouldn’t be brave enough to share such thoughts, but his vulnerability brought by the awkwardness from accidentally walking in on him while changing had caused one of the barriers preventing us from drawing closer to crumble.
He stared at me a long moment, as if gauging my sincerity, before releasing a weary sigh. “No wonder you’ve been so shy around me. It was never my intention to be unapproachable; I’ve simply borne the mantle as the future king for so long I’m not sure how to be anyone else.”
I bore a similar weight, but rather than being expected to become a proper princess for the sake of title that my illegitimate background made it impossible to ever live up to, it was solely to not embarrass my father. His expectations had long since become too heavy a burden; being invisible was the far easier course than risking drawing his negative notice.
Yet our experiences were similar enough that I wondered why we’d never shared them with one another before now. Regret for all the lost time twinged my heart. “I wish we’d had this conversation sooner…or have we?”
He shook his head. “We never have.” He sounded apologetic, as if he believed he alone bore responsibility for this oversight when I was certain my own fear of rejection had kept my vulnerabilities carefully hidden.
“I’ve always felt as if I was frantically trying to keep everything together,” I shyly admitted. “The fact you share in this struggle makes me feel closer to you.”
The corner of his lips lifted slightly. “Which means that my efforts to impress you through acting confident were nothing more than a waste of time.”
“While my own reservations served as a protection in hopes it would help you like me.”
His expression softened into one that was quite tender. “There was no need to go to such lengths; the woman I want to come to know is not the princess you’re expected to be, but my dear fiancée Lisette.”
Warmth seeped over me at the sentiment. Something passed between us, a feeling I had no name for and couldn’t explain…understanding. Yet even with this moment, many of the reservations that had held both of us captive for so long remained.
“Are you sure you want to enter a courtship with someone as inexperienced as me? My first attempt was clearly memorable enough for you to forget it at the first opportunity.” His effort to smile was marred by his lingering vulnerability, even as the familiar emotion wove another thread between our hearts.
I glanced towards the partially open drawer containing the letters I’d spent much of the night snooping through, evidence of the memorable courtship he spoke of. His gaze followed to stare at the drawer, where the corner of the stack of letters poked out from my too hasty attempt to replace them when he awoke. He cast me a questioning glance.
“Did you—”
I guiltily averted my eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have rummaged through your private things. I just wanted to find something to help me remember.”
The explanation felt entirely inadequate for my breach of trust, another mistake to add to my spending the night in his room unchaperoned and stumbling upon him half-dressed. A fine beginning for our courtship, as if sabotaged by the subconscious part of me that was afraid for it to succeed due to how vulnerable it’d leave me.
I braced myself for his harsh reaction that would confirm my curiosity had broken everything we’d just painstakingly built. I tensed, waiting for him to strike me with an onslaught of criticism, as I’d come to expect from my father for even the slightest shortcoming…but it never came.
Instead he curled his hand around the faint outline of my chin, beckoning me to meet his soft gaze. “There should be no secrets between us, especially as you’re the one who wrote those letters.” At my skeptical look, he withdrew the remaining stack I had yet to peruse and started to hand them to me in a sign of trust…only to pause. “Wait, how did you move them?” He drew close, eyes wide with wonder.
“I don’t know; I was simply able to handle them, although not the ribbon binding them.” I accepted the letters without any difficulty, as if my previous exertion in figuring out how to hold them had permanently broached this particular barrier between my intangible form and the tangible world. Even when I had them back in my possession, I couldn’t return to reading the tedium I’d painstakingly written him, suddenly embarrassed by how little effort I’d exerted in our correspondence.
He gaped at the letters I firmly held, eyes wide in surprise. “I wonder if you’re able to touch them because these are something you once held before your disappearance.”
The theory seemed plausible, but if it was true, did that meant Lucien and I had never touched one another in our prior courtship? That would only confirmed Aira’s insistences there had been no affection between us…as did the letters that solely spoke of matters of the court rather than of the heart.
“Why did you save these?” I asked.
He smiled softly. “Because you wrote them.”
The reason seemed far too simple, even as his tender tone testified of his sincerity, as if he spoke of a treasure rather than something I couldn’t see worth cherishing. And yet… “I saved yours too,” I confessed, my memory clearing to reveal the small, ornate chest where I carefully tucked each missive away.
“You remember?” His smile widened, reaching upwards to fill his eyes. “I’m honored you would when I never wrote anything worth keeping. Each time we corresponded I tried to write something more interesting than the day-to-day affairs of the court, especially as I don’t have any interesting hobbies and didn’t want to bore you. Despite all the words I wish to express to you that I constantly keep bottled up, in the end I never knew what to say.” His smile faded as his miserable gaze flickered towards all the unfinished letters that had been crumpled and tossed in the wastebasket beneath his desk.
One of my dormant memories stirred to life. “I too often spent hours trying to figure out which words to pen to you in return.”
His tense posture eased in relief. “Really?” At my nod he managed a small smile. “I suppose it’s often easier to express the superficial rather than reveal what’s inside our heart. But no matter our letters’ contents, I always looked forward to hearing from you.”
It was a wonder Lucien could fall in love with someone through such proper yet dull correspondence; perhaps he alone had been able to see beyond the ink to whatever message my heart had been trying to impart.
As if he sensed this hidden hurt in a way that only he could, his airy touch suddenly caressed the furrow marring my brow—one I could almost feel—beckoning my gaze away from the letters back to him. In the flickers of my forgotten memories I could faintly recall many instances when shyness had made it impossible to hold his gaze, but this time rather than look away I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in the sweet emotion filling his eyes, one I still couldn’t believe was directed towards me.
My grip slackened and the letters fell through my fingers to scatter around my feet, but I made no motion to pick them up. I no longer needed to sort through the remnants of my past to discover what our relationship had once been—the only thing I wanted was to stoke the flame that he’d ignited within my heart in order to explore the tender feeling growing steadily between us, one I wanted to keep forever.