Page 13 of Love & Letter Charms
“—young women of refined breeding,” their grandmother finished.
But even their synchronized scolding couldn’t dim the joy of the moment, especially when Kazrian appeared at Aurelise’s other side, linking his arm through hers with a grin that matched Rosavyn’s for mischief.
“If we’re to be scolded anyway,” he said, and gave an enormous leap that lifted all three of them higher than before.
Aurelise’s shriek escaped before she could contain it as she found herself momentarily weightless. Then the three of them descended in a tangle of laughter and limbs, and for one perfect moment, she forgot about her impending presentation, forgot about the watching crowd, forgot everything except the pure magic of sharing this impossible wonder with her siblings.
I must remember every detail, she thought suddenly.I’ll write to R tonight and tell him?—
But she caught herself before the thought could proceed any further. She’d told him she wouldn’t be in Bloomhaven. She couldn’t share any of this with him. A different kind of anxiety twisted in her stomach as she glanced around the crowd. What if he had been planning to come anyway, regardless of whether she was able to attend the Bloom Season or not. What if he washere?
Her eyes swept the assembled faces, as if she might somehow recognize him by instinct alone. But every gentleman looked like a potential correspondent. Or … none of them did. Though she lacked even the vaguest notion of what R looked like, she carried within her a sense of who he was—his wit, his warmth—and not a single face in the crowd seemed capable of containing such qualities.
No, she told herself firmly. He wouldn’t have come without telling her. While she guarded her secrets with careful precision, R seemed constitutionally incapable of containing his enthusiasm. His letters always brimmed with his plans and thoughts, spilling across the page in that bold, slanting hand. Had he intended to visit Bloomhaven, she doubted he could have resisted telling her.
The path finally opened into the grandest ballroom Aurelise had ever imagined. The floor beneath their feet sparkled like sun-caught water, each step sending ripples of light radiating outward. Along the ballroom’s edge, fountains poured cascades of glittering butterflies that tumbled downward in shimmering streams. Their wings caught the light as they fell, dissolving into sparkling golden liquid before reaching the basins below.
High above, the ceiling was a dream of endless twilight sky—soft watercolor washes of pink melting into lavender and deepening into periwinkle blue. The colors drifted, sometimes mingling in feathery wisps, sometimes separating into distinct layers that folded back upon themselves in hypnotic patterns. Delicate cloud formations had begun to take shape against thispainted infinity, though Aurelise couldn’t yet spot the pink bow Mariselle had promised would appear during the presentations.
The High Lady proceeded to a throne that appeared to have been carved from a single, enormous pearl, its surface gleaming with subtle iridescence. She seated herself gracefully and gestured for Prince Ryden to take the smaller throne beside her. He slouched into it immediately, one leg crossed over the other with casual indifference, his expression suggesting he’d rather be anywhere else. Aurelise resolved to ignore him.
Around them, the magical ballroom filled with Bloomhaven’s elite, a swirl of color and movement. Ladies arranged themselves in elegant clusters while gentlemen maintained strategic positions nearby, all leaving a wide ceremonial circle at the center of the room.
With each passing moment, Aurelise’s breath grew shallower, her grip on Rosavyn’s hand tightening until she feared their fingers might permanently fuse. The familiar flutter of panic beat against her ribcage as her moment of reckoning approached with merciless certainty.
All too soon, a hush fell over the assembly, conversation dying like a receding tide, leaving only expectant silence as the High Lady rose from her pearl throne.
“And now,” she began, her voice ringing clear and commanding through the breathless ballroom, “we shall begin the formal presentations of this Season’s newly manifested fae.”
What followed passed in a blur of disconnected details that Aurelise’s anxiety-frozen mind could barely process. She found herself in a beautiful alcove with the other young fae debuting their magic tonight, all in their finest attire, all radiating the particular nervous energy that came with impending public display.
She noticed the strangest things—the way one girl’s pearl earring had twisted backward, how a young man’s glove had anearly invisible stain near the thumb, the pattern in the marble that looked almost like a rose if she tilted her head just so. But the actual presentations? Those dissolved into meaningless noise and movement.
Time moved both agonizingly slowly and terrifyingly fast. Each name called felt like an eternity, yet brought her own moment that much closer. Her hands trembled. Her stomach churned. She was certain everyone could hear her heart pounding.
And then, cutting through the fog of her anxiety like a blade through silk:
“Lady Aurelise Rowanwood.”
The words rang across the ballroom with horrible clarity. Time seemed to crystallize around her, each second sharp and distinct. This was her moment.
Pure terror flooded her veins. Her legs felt as substantial as the clouds they’d crossed earlier, yet somehow they began moving. One step. Another. The walk from the alcove to the ballroom’s center stretched before her, the weight of every gaze in the room pressing down upon her shoulders.
You will meet it with the same quiet grace and poise with which you always weather these sorts of overwhelming occasions.
That is not the way I feel inside.
She kept her eyes fixed on the pearl throne, not daring to look at the assembled crowd. When she finally stood before the High Lady and Prince Ryden, she sank into the deepest curtsy she could manage, her gaze locked on the hem of the High Lady’s gown.
“Welcome, Lady Aurelise,” the High Lady’s voice was warm but formal. “Please share with us the gift of your manifested magic.”
For one horrible moment, Aurelise’s mind went completely blank. Was she meant to face the High Lady or the crowd? No one had explained this part. What had the others done? She hadn’t been watching, too lost in her own anxiety to pay attention.
Wait—there had been snow. She remembered seeing the girl’s face as delicate snowflakes had danced around her. She must have been facing the crowd.
Drawing on every lesson in grace she’d ever received, Aurelise rose from her curtsy and turned to face the ballroom. The sea of faces blurred together into an impressionistic wash of color and expectation.
With trembling fingers, she pulled off her gloves, sliding each one along her wrists with the practiced motion that activated their concealment charm, causing them to vanish into the folds of her gown until she needed them again. Though her magic required no such removal, she’d discovered early in her practice that the barrier of fabric dulled her perception somewhat.
