Page 29 of Love & Letter Charms
“Indeed.” Willow took her arm as naturally as if they’d been friends for years. “Come, let’s find a comfortable place to sit.”
Aurelise allowed herself to be guided to a small seating arrangement near one of the enormous windows, fighting backthe sudden and entirely inappropriate urge to suggest that perhaps standing with her face buried in peonies might be a more comfortable arrangement for everyone involved.
Her mind scrambled desperately for conversation topics. She had prepared for this. She had practiced. There was … the weather. And … the weather?
“Is your family well?” Willow asked as they sat.
“They are, thank you.” Aurelise forced a steadying breath into her lungs. “And yours?” She internally congratulated herself on the natural progression of the exchange.
“Quite well, though my brother works entirely too hard.”
“Oh, I saw your brother just the other day.” Aurelise latched onto this thread of conversation like a drowning woman clutching a rope, relieved to have found something concrete to discuss. “Though I confess he almost caught me in a rather unconventional position.”
Willow’s expression turned quizzical.
“I-I mean,” Aurelise stammered, “my sisters and I were … well, we were lying on the carpet, and—” She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting around the room as if it might offer her a more sensible topic. “Isn’t the light simply exquisite today? The way it streams through these windows is quite … illuminating, don’t you think?”
Willow leaned closer, her expression softening as she placed a gentle hand on Aurelise’s arm. Her voice dropped to a confidential murmur. “Are you nervous?”
Aurelise took another quick breath that seemed to race straight to her head rather than her lungs. “Is it that obvious?”
Willow’s lips curved into a conspiratorial smile. “Only because I’m nervous myself.”
Aurelise forced herself to exhale slowly before leaning forward and whispering, “I cannot believe I’m really here. AtSolstice Hall! The fact that I was chosen for this Crown Court business at all still seems like a terrible mistake.”
Willow laughed quietly. “I feel rather the same way. My debut was last Season, and I was quite convinced that all of society had forgotten about me already. Apparently not.”
“Forgive me,” Aurelise said, “but I can’t recall the nature of your manifested magic.”
Willow’s face flickered with a self-deprecating grimace. “It’s rather uninspiring, I’m afraid. My family typically manifests abilities related to channeling others’ magic. Potentially useful. In my case, however …” She sighed softly. “I can channel others’ magic directly into the ground, where it simply … dissipates. Completely disappears.”
“Oh, that sounds …” But Aurelise was saved from having to produce a diplomatic response, because a hush fell over the room as the doors opened once more.
A clear, ringing voice announced, “Her Grace, the High Lady of the United Fae Isles.”
Silk rustled as every lady in the room rose and sank into a deep curtsy. The High Lady entered, serene, unhurried, her presence filling the space. “My dear young ladies,” she greeted warmly. “Welcome to Solstice Hall.”
She crossed the room and took her place upon a high-backed armchair upholstered in pale rose silk, a position that allowed her to survey the room with ease. “Please, be seated,” she said, gesturing with a graceful sweep of her hand.
The Crown Court ladies shifted in near unison, perching on settees and sofas, smoothing skirts, folding gloved hands in their laps. Aurelise sat beside Willow, and when the High Lady’s gaze swept over her—a brief, assessing glance that lasted no more than a heartbeat—she found herself longing desperately for the safety of the enormous vase of peonies.
“I trust your journeys were comfortable?” the High Lady inquired as silver trays laden with teapots and delicate cups materialized on the low tables between them, along with plates and dishes of tiny frosted cakes, crystallized fruits, and other enchanted delicacies.
A chorus of affirmative responses followed the High Lady’s question, Aurelise adding her quiet “Yes, Your Grace” to the general consensus.
“Excellent.” An attendant moved forward, but the High Lady stopped the woman with a subtle motion of her hand. “Now, before tea is served, permit me a few words. I imagine you all have questions about the Season ahead. The Crown Court is a traditional but rarely employed method of courtship, one that grants the prince the opportunity to know each of you beyond what the usual flurry of social engagements permits. There will be formal events, of course—balls, musical evenings, garden parties—but also smaller gatherings and private audiences with the prince.”
At the mention of ‘private audiences with the prince,’ Aurelise felt a cold prickle of dread travel up her spine. Private audiences meant no crowd to disappear into, no convenient friend to rescue her with timely interruptions.
“I understand that spending the entirety of the Season away from your families may seem daunting,” the High Lady continued. “Therefore, I’ve arranged that each of you may return to your Bloomhaven residences for two days every fortnight, should you wish it.”
Aurelise felt her shoulders physically drop with relief, tension draining from her body. Around her, the atmosphere seemed to brighten, the circle of ladies exchanging glances that held new warmth. It seemed she was not the only one grateful for the prospect of occasional sanctuary with her family.
With a graceful inclination of her head, the High Lady motioned the attendant forward. “Now then,” she said as the woman began pouring tea, “there are certain practical matters we should discuss. First, your accommodations. You’ve each been assigned a suite in the guest wing. Your personal maids have been welcomed, of course, but you’ll also find you’ve each been assigned two palace companions.”
She gestured gracefully toward the doors, which opened to reveal … nothing. Aurelise blinked, wondering if she’d missed something, until several small, glittering forms darted into the room. Two of them—an iridescent dragonfly and something that resembled a silver hummingbird—hovered in the air beside the High Lady’s chair, while a miniature fox with a coat that shimmered like sapphires sat beside the chair’s leg, wrapping its fluffy tail primly around its paws like a lady arranging her skirts.
“These magical beings have served the royal household for generations,” the High Lady explained. “Each of you will find your assigned companions waiting in your suites. They will guide you through the palace, assist with your daily needs, and ensure you never feel lost.
