Page 43 of Love & Letter Charms
He had not seen any of the Crown Court ladies since the previous afternoon. His mother had kept them sequestered for the entire day in what she’d deemed ‘essential instruction in matters of state and protocol’—the start of a series of dreadfully dull lectures about trade agreements, diplomatic correspondence, and the proper order of precedence at formal dinners. He suspected it was less about preparing them to be princess and more about testing their patience and composure under tedium.
Which meant he hadn’t laid eyes on Lady Aurelise—on L—since the moment in the garden when his world had tilted on its axis.
Ryden tugged absently at his high collar, uncomfortably aware of the restless energy building beneath his skin. That afternoon, he had approached his mother in her private withdrawing room, a request he had never made before poised upon his lips. He’d asked her to maintain vigilant awareness of his magic throughout the evening, to smooth any potential surges before they slipped beyond his control.
Her pale brows had drawn together in concern. “Has something occurred to unsettle your magic?”
“No. Simply …” He’d cleared his throat. “Anticipating a potentially overwhelming evening.”
Understanding had dawned across her features, though mercifully she hadn’t pressed for details. “I shall keep my senses attuned to any fluctuations. Should I detect the stirrings of a surge, I will do what I can to stabilize it.”
Then, before he could leave, he’d swallowed his remaining pride as desperation overcame dignity, and asked if she had the strength to maintain that constant vigilance throughout the entire Season. His words had been an admission of weakness he would normally rather die than reveal. But the memory of the footman’s blank stare haunted him. The thought of Lady Aurelise’s eyes taking on that same emptiness, of what Ryden might accidentally compel her to do in a moment of uncontrolled magic, was unbearable. He would not risk anything happening to her.
His mother had studied him for a long moment, her gaze keen and searching, before inclining her head. “I will do everything in my power to contain any surges I detect, whenever they may arise.”
He had thanked her, but expressed his concerns about this possibly exhausting her.
“This Season will exhaust us both, I suspect,” she’d said. “But there will be time enough to rest when we return to the Shaded Lands.”
Relief had flooded through him, though it did nothing to calm the anticipation that had been building all day. Because tonight—blessed stars, tonight—he would see his L. He would dance with her, would hold her in his arms, would feel her warmth beneath his hands.
He stood now among the glittering throng, his eyes continuing their search of the ballroom as his magic remained a restless current beneath his skin, controlled but not quite dormant.
Then the crowd shifted, a natural ebb and flow of conversation and movement, and suddenly—there. The bodies parted like a curtain drawn back, and his breath caught in his throat.
Lady Aurelise Rowanwood.
L.
Time seemed to suspend itself as his gaze locked upon her.
She wore a gown not of rose pink, as he had for some inexplicable reason been imagining, but of delicate silver-blue silk, its modest neckline edged with tiny crystals that caught the light when she moved. Her dark hair had been arranged in soft coils atop her head, with strands of tiny blue crystals woven through. Even from this distance, he could see the hesitant curve of her smile as she conversed with Lady Willow Blackbriar, her gaze frequently dropping to the floor in that characteristic shyness she had confessed to him so many times in her letters.
I am shy to the point of invisibility …
I somehow manage to choose topics so utterly tedious that I can practically see my companions’ eyes glaze over with boredom …
The memory of her written words now wrapped themselves around the living, breathing woman before him. How wrong she had been. There was nothing tedious about her in the slightest. She was all the more captivating for her quietude, her shy composure a gentler kind of allure than any practiced charm.
She laughed then at something Lady Willow said, the sound carrying across the space between them. Her hand lifted to cover her mouth, as though even her laughter required concealment, and Ryden felt an absurd desire to cross the room and gently pull that hand away, to tell her nothing about her should ever be hidden.
Stars above, he needed to collect himself before approaching her.
Because of course he would approach her. He would dance with her first. Every drawing room in Bloomhaven would buzz with speculation, every gossip bird would wing through the night with urgent whispers, and his mother would most certainly question his judgment once tonight was through. Buthe would invent some reasonable explanation later. For now, the matter was simple: there was no other first choice but her.
Her eyes sparkled now with renewed mirth at Lady Willow’s conversation, and Ryden found himself realizing he did not know their color. He had not paid close enough attention before, when she was merely Evryn’s quiet sister, merely a ceremonial addition to the Crown Court. But now he needed to know.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden hush falling over the ballroom. The musicians ceased their playing as his mother made her entrance. She moved with grace and that quiet, instinctive command that came from the effortless use of her authority magic. Her pale blue hair cascaded in perfect waves down her back, crowned with a delicate diadem of starlight-enchanted diamonds.
The assembled nobility moved as if responding to invisible signals, the sea of silks and jewels parting in perfect synchronicity to form a path from the entrance to the dais where two thrones awaited. Ryden found himself stepping forward to meet his mother at the foot of the raised platform, his body following years of practiced protocol. Meanwhile, the Crown Court ladies glided through the crowd from various directions, arranging themselves in a perfect line to the left of the dais—ten young women displayed like rare flowers for all of Bloomhaven society to admire and assess.
“Esteemed guests,” the High Lady began, her voice carrying to every corner without apparent effort, “it brings me great pleasure to welcome you to Solstice Hall for this first Crown Court Ball. We are honored to host these exceptional young ladies from some of our realm’s most distinguished families this Season.” She gestured elegantly toward the Crown Court ladies, who curtsied in perfect unison as all eyes turned to them.
Aurelise’s cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink under the weight of that collective gaze, and Ryden felt a subtle tighteninglow in his chest. She was too beautiful to look away from, standing out among the ten of them like the first blush of dawn breaking through a sky still heavy with stars.
“His Highness will now open the dancing by selecting his first partner for the evening.”
The moment felt impossibly significant as Ryden turned to face the ten Crown Court ladies. His palms were damp within his gloves. His pulse had abandoned all sense of decorum. He drew in a steadying breath, and, with deliberate strides that betrayed none of his inner turmoil, he crossed the space directly toward Aurelise.
