Page 31 of Love & Letter Charms
Thimble’s wings drooped visibly, her expressive eyes wide with disbelief.But … but … he’s Prince Ryden! He’s handsome and charming and so very lovely! How can you NOT want to be his princess? It would be the most romantic thing in the entire world!
What my melodramatic cousin is attempting to articulate, Spark cut in, a fresh puff of glittery smoke escaping his nostrils,is that we’ve been assigned to you with the express purpose of ensuring your success in this competition. Well, I suppose that was not the High Lady’s official directive, he conceded,but the implication was perfectly clear—our lady must win.
“It’s not a competition,” Aurelise insisted.
Spark’s eyes narrowed to golden slits.Oh, it most certainly is, my lady. It is nothing less than full-scale tactical warfare. Lady Ellowa’s companions have already secured information about the prince’s favorite desserts and plan to have them ‘coincidentally’ served whenever she dines with him.
Oh goodness, Thimble moaned, clutching her tiny paws to her chest.We’re already BEHIND! We need a plan, a strategy, a?—
What we do not need, Spark interrupted,is panic. Wars are won through superior intelligence and ruthless efficiency, not hysterics.He turned his penetrating gaze to Aurelise.If necessary, I am prepared to sabotage Lady Ellowa’s wardrobe. One small ember in the right place would be most … effective.
“No!” Aurelise gasped, genuinely alarmed. “No sabotage! No warfare! No … embers! Please, I just want to survive this Season with as little attention as possible.”
Thimble’s wings drooped even further.But …Her tiny voice wavered with confusion.Don’t you want to fall in LOVE? To find your TRUE HAPPINESS?
Aurelise’s expression softened. “I can assure you, my true happiness does not reside within these palace walls. I’m simply not interested in becoming a princess or a Crown Consort or whatever the title would be.”
Precisely why you’d be excellent at it, Spark muttered, then added in a darker tone,The ones who hunger for power are invariably the ones who abuse it.
Oh!Thimble suddenly perked up, her wings fluttering back to life.I understand now! You’re playing hard to get! That’s BRILLIANT! The prince will be absolutely fascinated by your indifference!She zoomed upward in renewed excitement.This is an even better strategy than I’d imagined!
Aurelise opened her mouth, then closed it again, realizing the futility of further protest. “I think,” she said carefully, “that I might need to rest before dinner.”
Of course, of course!Thimble chirped.Beauty sleep is ESSENTIAL! We’ll reorganize your bath oils and bubble enchantments. I’m almost certain one of those bottles claims to inspire everlasting devotion—or at least a very enthusiastic infatuation.
Spark sighed, the glittery smoke forming a small cloud around his head.If we must. Though I reserve the right to implement more … direct measures should our competition grow too aggressive.
“No direct measures,” Aurelise insisted firmly.
As you wish.Spark inclined his head in a gesture that somehow managed to convey both agreement and the clear intention to ignore her wishes the moment it became expedient to do so.Rest well, my lady. The battle begins at dinner.
Aurelise slumped back with a breath of laughter. Too tired to argue, she could only concede that Spark was right—dinner did feel a little bit like going to war.
Thimble launched herself from the table in a blur of pink and purple. Spark spread his wings and followed in a far more dignified manner.Do try not to get lost among the ferns again, he muttered, his voice still present inside Aurelise’s mind.I can’t spend hours extricating you every time you get yourself trapped inside a sun-eater.
That happened ONCE!
You must admit you have a remarkable tendency to get lost inside small spaces.
And YOU have a remarkable tendency to eat too many of those silly little custard kisses.
How dare you mock that most magnificent of culinary masterpieces! Your blasphemy shall not stand, Thimble!
Still bickering, the two companions disappeared into the bathing chamber, leaving Aurelise alone once more. The silence felt different now, tinged with the lingering warmth of their bizarre conversation.
Her eyes drifted back to the dressing table, to the wooden box that sat there like a silent accusation. A familiar tightness gathered in her chest, that same anxious knot that had refused to ease all week. She should open it. Should read whatever new letter R might have sent. Should finally, finally respond.
She rose from the chaise and crossed to the dressing table, her fingers hovering over the box’s carved surface. After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted the lid.
Inside lay a single sheet of paper, folded once. Just one word written in his familiar, bold handwriting:
Please.
The music burst from her before she could contain it—a single violin playing a melancholy melody that filled the room with sweet sorrow. She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to push back the sound, but it only shifted to something more plaintive, more desperate.
How could one word hold so much pain? How could he convey such longing in just six letters?
She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on transforming the music into something calming, something gentle, something that would soothe her churning emotions. Her hands moved absently through the air, conducting the sound. Two compositions battled for dominance—the sorrowful violin weaving between a gentler countermelody she was trying to coax forth. For several moments, the sounds tangled around each other, notes clashing as neither would yield.
