Page 80 of Love & Letter Charms
“The fault is entirely mine,” Prince Ryden interjected smoothly, offering Aurelise his hand and helping her from the fountain with far more grace than anyone caught behaving like a mischievous schoolboy ought to possess. “I’m afraid I started it.”
The High Lady’s expression remained unreadable, though Aurelise caught the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth—there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
“Lady Aurelise,” she said crisply, “the carriages depart shortly to convey the Crown Court ladies to their homes. I suggest you make yourself presentable for travel. Your current state would likely cause your family some concern.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Immediately, Your Grace.” Aurelise dropped another curtsy, sending more water spattering, then began to flee.
“And Ryden,” the High Lady added, “you have a visitor. From the Shaded Lands.”
Aurelise hurried away beneath the blossom arches, but not before glancing back and seeing Prince Ryden’s demeanor shift entirely, the playful, mischievous young man gone, and a sudden unfamiliar vulnerability taking its place.
Chapter Twenty-One
Just over a week later,Aurelise sat at the pianoforte in Solstice Hall’s forgotten music room, her fingers moving across the keys. Tomorrow’s tea loomed before her like an approaching storm, and she was employing every method at her disposal to keep the threatening tide of panic from washing over her entirely.
She focused intently on counting the beats as she played. Not on the dwindling hours until her tea (fewer than twenty-four). Not on the number of dares she’d attempted since her most recent visit home (a resounding zero). Not on the number of nights that had passed since R’s letter arrived with those three words that still echoed through her every waking moment (nine). Not on the number of days a certain prince had been gone from Solstice Hall (eight). And certainly not on how many times her thoughts had drifted to said prince since she’d taken refuge at this instrument a mere half hour ago (at least a dozen).
She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of sugarplum whimsy tea. She wasn’t entirely certain how the kitchen staff had learned it was her favorite—though she strongly suspected Thimble or Spark’s meddling—but not long after she’d retreated to her suite that afternoon, there’d come a gentle knock at the door.
Outside stood the same maid who had caught her muttering and pacing about the Sun Salon an hour earlier, now balancing a tray with a delicate teacup and a plate of miniature tarts. The girl had stammered, cheeks pink. “Forgive the intrusion, my lady, but we thought—well—it seemed you might be in need of this. Cook insisted upon the dream-tarts when he heard it was for you. I … I do hope I’m not overstepping.”
Aurelise had very nearly hugged the girl—and then promptly started crying the moment the door had closed behind her.
Now the teacup sat on the low table between the music room’s mismatching chairs, almost finished, its soft, sweet scent reminding her of home.
“Lady Lise.”
A gasp caught in her throat, her hands faltering instantly, a discordant jumble of notes filling the air as she turned swiftly on the bench.
And there he was—Prince Ryden, with that crooked smile of his, his blue hair just slightly disheveled as though he’d run his fingers through it. Something twisted in her chest, a beautiful, consuming ache that stole every breath she might have drawn. It seemed that time and distance had done absolutely nothing to dull the alarming effect he had on her.
“Stars above!” she breathed, pressing a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”
He closed the door—which she certainly had not heard him open—and moved closer, choosing the chair nearest the pianoforte. He sat with his usual casual elegance, though this time he remained perched forward on its edge rather than reclining as he had on previous occasions when they’d been alone in this room. There was a certain tension in the way he held himself, something coiled and restless that would have been easy to miss had she not been studying him so closely now.
She turned fully on the bench to face him properly. “You’ve returned.”
“Yes.”
When the Crown Court ladies had all returned from their home visits, they’d found Prince Ryden conspicuously absent. “Dealing with important matters in the Shaded Lands,” the High Lady had informed them, adding that he would likely return within a few days, perhaps a week at most. She’d then suggested this was an excellent opportunity for those who hadn’t yet hosted their teas to focus entirely on their planning.
“Did you have a pleasant visit with your family?” he asked.
“Oh. Yes, quite pleasant, thank you.” She refrained from mentioning that she’d endured another thorough interrogation from her grandmother—somehow even worse than the first—and that for reasons she could not fathom, her grandmother seemed far less inclined this time to believe her assurances that the prince was behaving with perfect propriety.
“And you, Your Highness?” she asked. “Was your trip … successful?”
“Yes.” His lips curved into that familiar, flirtatious smile she’d come to know far too well. “Did you miss me?”
“No,” she answered immediately.
His smile deepened into something positively wicked. “Shall we play a game, Lady Lise? I’m thinking of two words. They both begin with L.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, though her heart continued its traitorous flutter and she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his face.
“Lamentable liar,”he whispered.
She turned swiftly back to the pianoforte. “It has been pleasantly uneventful here without you,” she said, resting her fingers on the keys. “No midnight escapades. No attempted dares. I find I am thoroughly rested.”
