Page 14 of Love & Letter Charms
Standing ready before the crowd, she tried to swallow. It was near impossible. Her heart hammered so violently she was certain the entire room could hear it. She lifted her gaze to the dream-sky ceiling, searching until—there. Mariselle’s promise made manifest: a perfect pink bow formed from clouds, floating serenely against the watercolor sky. And then?—
Do you think plants have opinions about us?
R’s ridiculous question came unexpectedly to mind, and despite everything, the corner of her mouth twitched toward a smile. She could do this.
Aurelise closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Then, with the same certainty she felt when sitting before her pianoforte, she raised her right hand in a graceful sweep.
A deep, resonant note filled the air. Cellos and double basses in perfect harmony, so rich and full it seemed to emerge fromthe very walls of Dreamland itself. Her left hand rose to join the first, fingers trailing through the air. A cascade of violins joined the foundation, their voices sweet and clear.
As the harmonies settled into place, her anxious thoughts surrendered to the perfect stillness that existed only inside music. This familiar sanctuary, this peaceful void where nothing existed but vibration and emotion—her body relaxed into it, as if returning home after a long exile, and everything else ceased to exist.
With each sweep of her hand, delicate turn of her wrist, or pinch between thumb and forefinger, the music responded. She was both creator and conductor, drawing sound from the ambient magic that surrounded all things, transforming the invisible into something magnificently audible. This was her own composition, something that had lived only in her mind and her private practice until this moment. It bore no resemblance to any piece that might be heard in a concert hall. It was uniquely, entirely hers.
Her fingers fluttered in an intricate pattern, and woodwinds trilled into existence, their playful notes dancing around the steady strings like butterflies around flowers. A sharp gesture of her left hand brought in the bright clarity of trumpets. The music built and layered, each new voice joining the conversation until an entire orchestra sang at her command.
Her hands rose together, lifting the music with them toward a crescendo that had been months in the planning. Even though she knew every note, had heard this same progression a hundred times in practice, the full realization of it sent shivers racing down her spine.
The music crested like a wave breaking against cliffs, soaring and dancing through the impossible space of Dreamland’s ballroom. It sang of new beginnings, of hope and fear intertwined, of standing on the brink of transformation. It feltlike courage—the kind she dreamed about but would never experience in reality.
Gradually, the tempest of sound calmed, each section of her invisible orchestra taking its leave in turn. The bright flutter of flutes dissolved into silence, followed by the stately horns and the dancing violins. Cellos lingered longer, their voices rich with contemplation, until finally only the deep basses remained for one final, resonant tone.
The music faded into the waiting stillness, and Aurelise’s hands settled gently at her sides. Silence filled the ballroom, complete and absolute. She opened her eyes to find the entire assembly frozen, staring at her with expressions she couldn’t read. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths, the exertion of channeling so much magic leaving her almost light-headed.
Was this normal? Were all magical demonstrations met with such stillness? Was there supposed to be applause? She couldn’t remember, couldn’t think past the pounding of her heart.
She turned back to face the High Lady, clasping her hands together and keeping her gaze carefully directed at the lower portion of the woman’s gown. But even from this limited view, she could see something had shifted in the High Lady’s perfect posture.
“That was—” The High Lady’s voice caught slightly, and she cleared her throat. “That was quite remarkable.”
Aurelise’s knees nearly buckled with relief. She exhaled a shuddering breath.
“Welcome to society, Lady Aurelise Rowanwood,” the High Lady continued, her composure restored. “May your magic continue to grow throughout the Bloom Season.”
Aurelise barely heard the formal words through the rush of blood in her ears. She had done it. She had survived. The High Lady approved.
She sank into another deep curtsy, her body moving through the motion by pure muscle memory while her mind reeled with exhausted triumph. When she rose and began the journey back to where her family waited at the ballroom’s edge, her legs trembled with each step.
She had done the hardest part. Now she need only survive the rest of the ball without drawing any further attention to herself, which should be simple by comparison. With practiced motions, she recalled her gloves from their magical concealment and pulled them back on. Tomorrow she would write to R. Not about the Opening Ball specifically, of course, but she could certainly mention surviving a dreaded social gathering.
The euphoria of successfully completing her demonstration, combined with the lingering effects of channeling a significant amount of magic, left her floating in a strange, disconnected state. Other names were called, other presentations made, but they washed over her like water over stone, leaving no impression.
It wasn’t until she noticed movement on the pearl throne that her attention snapped back to the present. The High Lady was rising, which meant all the presentations must be complete. Relief flooded through her. Now the dancing would begin, and she could fade into the background where she belonged.
“Tonight has demonstrated the extraordinary talents blooming within our realm,” the High Lady announced, her voice carrying effortlessly across the vast space. “In celebration of such promise, and acknowledging that His Royal Highness Prince Ryden must soon choose his life companion, I am pleased to announce that this Season, we shall be hosting a Crown Court.”
Surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd. Aurelise found herself equally startled. A Crown Court? She’d heard ofsuch things in history lessons, but there hadn’t been one in generations.
“I have selected several exceptional young ladies from our most distinguished families to join us as our honored guests at Solstice Hall for the remainder of the Bloom Season,” the High Lady continued, “so that Prince Ryden might have the opportunity to court them properly, and, with fortune’s favor, choose his princess from among them.”
Aurelise glanced around the ballroom, curiosity temporarily overcoming her exhaustion. Who would be chosen for such an honor? There were so many distinguished families in attendance. Her eyes swept over the crowd, trying to guess which young ladies might catch the High Lady’s attention, who might be deemed worthy to stand beside the future High Lord.
“Each lady called forth must approach and receive a fan,” the High Lady continued, her voice commanding the room’s attention once more, “the symbol of invitation to the Crown Court. These fans represent not merely an honor, but a formal summons to reside at Solstice Hall throughout the Season.”
An attendant in royal livery appeared at the High Lady’s side, bearing a silver tray upon which rested a collection of folded fans. The High Lady selected one before calling out, “Lady Coravelle Aerwynne.”
The girl who’d nearly swooned at the prince’s wink earlier pressed her hands to her cheeks, her dark skin positively glowing under the golden light as she let out a delighted squeal audible even from across the ballroom. She hurried forward with barely contained excitement, managing a curtsy before accepting her fan with trembling fingers.
“Lady Olivienne Silverglen.”
