Page 35 of Love & Letter Charms
“We’ve been corresponding for nearly a year.”
“Corresponding?” Evryn’s voice pitched higher with incredulity. “As in … letters?”
“Yes.”
“Letters. You. Prince Ryden, who I once witnessed charm three different ladies at the same garden party—in full view of each other, no less—are telling me you’ve fallen in love through letters?”
Ryden felt heat creep up his neck. “When you say it like that?—”
“How else should I say it?” Evryn moved closer, studying Ryden. “You’re serious. You’re actually serious. You think you’re in love with someone you’ve been writing to?”
“I don’t think,” Ryden said quietly. “I know.”
“Who is she? Where did you meet her?”
Ryden hesitated, mouth parting before the words would come. His hand rose to rub the back of his neck. “I … have never met her. I don’t know who she is.”
Evryn’s eyes widened further. Then he began laughing, a startled, disbelieving bark of sound that broke across the quiet morning. “You don’t even know who she is?”
“That is to say,” Ryden added, his tone growing defensive, “I do know her. In all the ways that truly matter. I know how she thinks, what makes her laugh, what frightens her. I know the … the shape of herkindness, the depth of her wit?—”
“All right, all right.” Evryn held up a hand, but his expression had shifted from disbelief to something more thoughtful. “It is only … Ryden, I’ve known you for years. I’ve watched you flirt and charm and scandalize your way through multiple Seasons. I didn’t think you were capable of … this.”
Ryden shifted his weight and attempted to stand a little straighter. “Of what?”
“Of actual love. Of …” Evryn broke off, making a helpless sort of motion with one hand. This was not the sort of topic the two of them generally discussed. “Of feeling something genuine enough to make you look the way you look right now. Like someone’s reached into your chest and rearranged everything.”
Ryden turned away, ostensibly to check Onyx’s saddle but really to avoid the intensity of his friend’s gaze. “Yes, well. It surprised me too.”
“I always knew the public persona was at least partially an act,” Evryn continued, his voice gentler now. “You hide pieces of yourself from everyone—stars know we all do to some extent.But I thought there was at least some truth to the stories. All those flirtations, those scandals that keep the gossip birds so well-fed …”
“There is some truth,” Ryden admitted. “Certainly. But it’s mainly—” He gestured vaguely, searching for words. “Surface. Performance. A way to be charming without being real. To be wanted without being known.”
“And this woman knows you? The real you?”
“More than anyone else ever has.” The admission felt raw, scraped from somewhere deep. She did not know everything, but she knew the things that mattered. She knew that he still struggled with his magic years after manifesting—though he had not told her the exact nature of his ability. She knew his teasing nature, his struggles with loneliness and the weight of expectations.
“Then you must find out who she is.” Evryn said this as if it should be obvious.
“She does not want to meet me.”
“Ah. That is …” Evryn paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “That is rather suspicious, don’t you think? Are you certain this is actually a young lady you’re corresponding with and not some elderly sorcerer having a grand joke at your expense?”
“The thought has occurred to me,” Ryden admitted. “It would certainly be embarrassing if that turned out to be the case. But no, I believe she is genuine.”
“And you believe she …” Evryn trailed off, his gaze skittering away toward the horizon, as though the rising sun might spare him the discomfort of saying his next words. “Feels for you as you do for her?”
“She is careful with what she reveals, but I believe so, yes. Yet something is holding her back.”
A silence settled between them, thick with unspoken thoughts and a shared awkwardness neither seemed willing to acknowledge. Both men folded their arms, suddenly fascinated by the sight of their pegasi nosing through the grass, tails flicking idly as the meadow brightened with morning light.
“Well, my friend,” Evryn said eventually, “you are simply going to have to be your charming best and convince her otherwise.”
Ryden regarded his friend. “That is entirely unhelpful.”
“Perhaps,” Evryn said around a yawn so wide it seemed to threaten the structural integrity of his jaw, “if you’d sent a pixie to poke me in the face at a more reasonable hour, I’d have more helpful advice for you.” He blinked a few times. “As it is, my brain is still waking up.” He placed his hands on his hips then, his expression turning thoughtful. “How did this even begin? How did you find yourself writing to someone you don’t actually know?”
Ryden sighed. “A wooden box containing a letter enchantment. The corresponding box was lost years ago and I don’t know where it ended up.”
