Page 25 of Love & Letter Charms
“Come in,” she called, wincing at how fragile her voice sounded in the silence.
The door opened with its familiar quiet creak, the one that had announced midnight confidences since they were children. Kazrian slipped inside, bleary-eyed and rumpled, as though he’d been pulled from deep sleep.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “Did my music wake you? I didn’t mean to let it slip?—”
“No.” He closed the door behind him, then turned to study her in the moonlight streaming through her windows. “I woke before I heard the music. I felt …” He shrugged, that particular gesture that needed no words between them. She knew what he meant. There had always been something indefinable between them, some invisible thread that pulled taut when one of them was in distress.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, though she couldn’t deny the comfort his presence brought.
“You look terrible,” he observed with brotherly frankness, moving to sit on her bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and she had to resist the urge to collapse against his shoulder.
“Thank you. How comforting.”
“You’re panicking.” It wasn’t a question. His eyes tracked over her face with concern. “Is it the Crown Court?”
She hesitated, torn between honesty and privacy. The Crown Court was indeed terrifying, but that fear paled beside the earthquake R’s letter had triggered in her chest. Yet she couldn’t speak of it to Kazrian. This correspondence was the one thingshe had kept carefully secret even from him. Better to focus on the fear she could actually speak aloud.
“How will I survive it?” She pushed up from the bed and began pacing the familiar path between her bed and the window. “I’ve spent my entire life hiding from attention, and now I am to be at the center of it? It fills me with absolute dread.Everyonewill be watching!”
“Lise—”
“And I’m supposed to be focused on mastering my magic this Season, not waiting for the prince to realize that I’m the least suitable candidate for princess.” Her hands flew to her hair, trying to gather the dark strands over her shoulder, needing something to do with the nervous energy crackling through her. “He will expect me to be charming and accomplished and interesting, and instead he’ll find that I’m none of those things. Which I suppose is exactly what I want, but it will be mortifying nonetheless when it happens.”
“First of all, you’re selling yourself far short. And second—” He broke off mid-sentence as a yawn claimed him. “Second, the sooner he discovers you’re supposedly terrible company—which you’re not—the sooner he’ll direct his attention elsewhere.”
“I know, Iknow, but that isn’t really—” Her fingers tangled in her hair as she tried to braid it, the usually simple pattern becoming a knotted mess.
“Lise.” Kazrian’s voice was gentle. “Sit.” He patted the space in front of him on the bed. “I’ll do it.”
The gentle offer broke through her spiral of panic. She sank onto the bed, her back to him, and felt his fingers gently untangle the mess she’d made.
“This isn’t …” She swallowed, pressing her eyes shut, and let out a shuddering breath. “This isn’t how I envisioned my Season at all. I had a perfectly simple and straightforward plan, and nowthis Crown Court has upended it completely.” Not to mention R’s letter had thrown her internal world even further into chaos.
Kazrian sighed, his fingers working through her hair with steady rhythm. He’d always liked knowing how things worked, and braiding hair was no different. When their governess had shown Aurelise how to braid her dolls’ hair, Kazrian had sat beside her and insisted upon learning too. “I know you’ve never been comfortable with surprises or unexpected turns. You need weeks of preparation before anyone dares move your favorite chair an inch to the left. But perhaps there’s value in this disruption. Perhaps experiencing something this exciting, even temporarily, might be good for you in ways you can’t yet see.”
“I don’t want exciting,” she said, the words breaking on a desperate half-sob. “I want predictable and boring.”
“Do you really?”
“Yes! My plan was simple. Survive the Opening Ball, then spend the Season developing my magic and perhaps meeting a quiet, kind gentleman who doesn’t mind the fact that I get tongue-tied in public and respects my need for solitude. Then I’d secure an engagement before the Summer Solstice Ball, endure one final magical demonstration before society, and retreat into peaceful obscurity for the remainder of my days.”
“That really does sound exceptionally boring.”
Aurelise reached back to smack her brother’s knee, missing as he yanked it away with a laugh that dissolved into quiet chuckles. “Do you have a ribbon?” he asked.
Without thinking, she raised her hand and made a gentle pulling motion. A pale blue ribbon flew from her dressing table, guided by the faintest whisper of magic. Kazrian caught it, and she felt him tying off the end of the braid.
She pulled the braid over her shoulder, running her fingers along the smooth pattern. “You’re still good at that.”
He shrugged. “It’s easy enough.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The moonlight had shifted, painting silver rectangles across her floor. Beside her bed, a timebloom shifted through colors as it marked the late hour’s passage.
“I know this is a lot,” Kazrian said finally. “I know you …feelthings more deeply than most people, and that can be overwhelming for you. But perhaps consider that your ideal life might exist somewhere between these two extremes—not drowning in the overwhelming emotions you fear, nor withering in the safe but hollow existence we both know wouldn’t truly fulfill you. There’s a space between terror and tedium where genuine joy might be waiting.”
Aurelise remained silent, absorbing his words with a small, sad smile. He meant well, her dear brother, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that for her, that elusive ‘genuine joy’ likely resided much closer to the quiet predictability he dismissed as tedium.
“I still have to survive the actual Crown Court,” she said wistfully.
