Page 17 of Love & Letter Charms
“Are you suggesting,” Ryden said with deliberate amusement, “that your dear sister is dull?”
“That is absolutely not what I—no. It is simply that she tends to speak only when directly addressed, and even then, her responses rarely extend beyond what politeness demands. I suspect you’d find yourself …”
“Bored?” He gave Evryn a politely confused frown. “Am I understanding you correctly?”
“No, you are deliberatelymisunderstanding me,” Evryn said with narrowed eyes.
“Am I?”
“Yes. What I mean is that Aurelise wouldn’t appreciate your particular brand of humor. She’s far too earnest, takes everything quite seriously. You’d scandalize her within minutes.”
“So now you’re saying she has no sense of humor?”
“Oh stop,” Evryn said with fond exasperation, a laugh escaping him now. “I’m simply saying she’s not at all to your usual taste.”
“Indeed, she is—” Before Kazrian could finish the thought, something behind Ryden caught his attention. Inclining his head, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness, it seems my mother requires my assistance.” With a precise bow, he withdrew into the crowd.
With Kazrian gone, Evryn stepped closer to Ryden, his voice dropping to a more serious register that immediately put Ryden on guard. This was not the tone of friendly banter.
“Ryden,” he began, “you are my friend, and I hold you in the highest regard. But I have observed your … attentions toward the fairer sex. Your charm is legendary, as is your tendency to bestow it rather liberally upon any lady who catches your fancy.”
The words stung more than they should have. “Evryn?—”
“Whoever becomes your wife,” Evryn continued quietly but firmly, “will be forced to witness such displays for the rest of her days. To watch her husband flirt with half the ladies at court while she stands beside the throne, pretending not to notice. That woman will not be my sister.”
The accusation left a cold hollowness in Ryden’s chest. He stepped closer to Evryn, his carefully maintained mask slipping for just a moment. “You think I would—” His voice caught, and he had to swallow before continuing. “You believe that once I am wed, I would be anything but entirely faithful to my wife?”
Something flickered in Evryn’s eyes—surprise, perhaps even a touch of guilt—but it only made the wound deeper. “I believe,” he said carefully, “that habits formed over many years are … difficult to alter. Even with the best intentions.”
The words hung between them like a blade. Did Evryn truly know him so little? Had Ryden played his role so convincingly that even one of his closest friends couldn’t see past the performance? Couldn’t recognize that the flirtations meant nothing, were merely another mask to keep people at a safe distance? Though could he truly blame his friend for believingthe facade, when Evryn was not permitted to know the real reason for the public persona Rydan had so carefully cultivated?
And now that he was considering it, did Ryden himself even know what sort of woman would truly capture his interest? He’d flirted with countless ladies, had stolen his share of kisses in moonlit gardens, had played the role of the scandalous prince with such dedication that sometimes he forgot it was a role at all. But he’d never courted anyone with genuine intent, never allowed himself to know someone deeply enough to determine what—or whom—he truly favored.
Well, there was someone, but things were entirely different with?—
“Apologies, my friend. Perhaps you are capable of change,” Evryn conceded, interrupting Ryden’s thoughts. “Regardless, I must be clear on this point. Aurelise is not available for your … consideration.”
The message couldn’t have been more explicit if Evryn had drawn a sword.
Ryden forced himself to laugh, falling back into his familiar role. “Never fear, Evryn. Your dull sister?—”
“I did not use the worddull!”
“—is perfectly safe from my ‘legendary charms,’” Ryden continued with a theatrical wave of his hand. “I assure you, I have no interest whatsoever in her.”
Again, he found himself wondering what sort of ladydidcapture his genuine interest. Not the giggling debutantes who swooned at his winks. Not the sophisticated ladies who played the game of flirtation as skillfully as he did. Not the ambitious ones who saw him as a crown rather than a person.
An image formed in his mind—not a face, for he had no notion of her appearance. Not a name, for he knew her by only a single initial. The image was more … an idea. Not of how sheappeared, but of who shewas. The unshakable truth at her core, already so familiar to him though they had never even met.
He knew her wit, smart and self-deprecating. He knew her vulnerability, the way she trusted him with her fears and anxieties. He knew her thoughts on matters as mundane as jam versus marmalade, and as profound as whether beauty lies in the thing itself or in the eyes that choose to delight in it. And he knew, too, the contradictions within her: a young woman who blushed and shrank from attention, yet who could be unexpectedly bold in the things she set down on paper.
If anyone embodied everything Ryden longed for, it was her.
Chapter Four
The drawing roomceiling at Jasvian and Iris’s Bloomhaven residence possessed an unexpectedly fascinating quality when viewed from the floor. Aurelise had never noticed the delicate plasterwork roses that spiraled outward from the central faelight fixture, nor the way afternoon sunlight created shifting patterns through the gauze curtains, painting golden shapes across the white expanse above.
How peculiar, she thought, that she always seemed to find herself confessing her troubles to roses. First the ever-blooming ones back at their country estate who served as her silent confidants, and now these plaster ones frozen in their eternal spiral above. At least the ceiling roses couldn’t judge her the way the garden ones seemed to, with their perfect petals and their air of disapproval.
