Page 89 of Love & Letter Charms
Afterward, she’d retreated to her chambers and collapsed into bed, thoroughly depleted by the day’s emotional tempest. Then, before sleep could claim her, she’d risen and found paper and quill, drawn to her enchanted letter box by an urgency she could no longer ignore. She had made a decision, and nine nights of silence was cruelty enough. She did not want to keep R waiting any longer.
Then she had collapsed a second time and allowed exhaustion to claim her.
His reply, which she’d found in the box when she’d woken that morning, had sent a rush of feeling—exhilarating and utterly terrifying—flooding through her.
I am always, and will only ever be, yours.
Her heart had swelled so fiercely it ached, as though it had outgrown the fragile confines of her chest. He was still hers. She would meet him. She would discover who he was. She wouldknowhim.
But first, this tea. Then, at last, she could untangle everything with R.
Now, standing in the Starlace Garden with afternoon light filtering through the flowering arbor above, Aurelise drew a steadying breath and let a gentle cello melody unspool from her fingertips—low, resonant notes that thrummed through the air and helped anchor her racing heart. Before her lay the fruits of her morning’s frantic preparations: tables dressed in cream linens embroidered with tiny silver stars, delicate Moonbloom china arranged just so, and tiered dishes of lemon-glazed teacakes, sugared berry scones, honeyed biscuits, petite fruit tarts crowned with candied petals, and of course, Spark’s beloved custard kisses.
But it was the peculiar additions to the usual arrangement that made her stomach flutter with nervous anticipation. Alongside the standard elegant chairs, she’d arranged something altogether more whimsical: dozens of miniature furnishings raised on pedestals that brought them level with the regular tables. There were tiny velvet cushions no bigger than her palm, delicate perches fashioned from twisted willow branches, minuscule chaises that might accommodate a mouse, and even a collection of thimble-sized chairs upholstered in silk. Each bore a carefully lettered name card in her finest script.
The inspiration had struck her during her first visit home, born from memories of Iris’s groundbreaking tea at The Charmed Leaf—the one where she’d dared to invite humans alongside fae nobility, setting Bloomhaven’s gossips aflutter for weeks. But more than that, it had come from watching how some of the Crown Court ladies treated their magical companions. Not cruelly, perhaps, but with a casual dismissiveness that made Aurelise’s heart ache. These dear creatures who offered such faithful service, such genuine affection, deserved better than to be treated as mere accessories.
Several palace attendants moved quietly about the garden, making final adjustments. A flick of a finger coaxed a napkin’s fold into perfect symmetry; a whispered word set the silver to gleaming beneath the sun. One attendant adjusted a teapot that had begun to steam a touch too eagerly, the vapor obediently curling back into the spout. Aurelise inclined her head in thanks as they withdrew to the perimeter of the gathering. One bent to murmur a few low words to the steward, who stood with hands clasped behind his back, discreetly overseeing the proceedings.
They’re arriving!Thimble’s telepathic squeak rang through her mind from her hiding spot among a nearby rose bush.Oh, Lady Aurelise, everything looks so beautiful! The tiny furniture! The little name cards! I could cry!
Aurelise smoothed her hands down her blush-pink silk gown—chosen specifically because Thimble had declared it ‘the most romantically beautiful dress in all existence’—and moved to greet the first of her guests.
The Crown Court ladies arrived in small clusters, their reactions to the unusual seating arrangements varying wildly. Lady Olivienne paused mid-step, her sharp eyes taking in the miniature arrangements before a genuine smile curved her lips. Lady Bernelle looked utterly bewildered, whispering frantically to Lady Ellowa, who responded with an indelicate snort. Butit was Willow’s delighted laugh that gave Aurelise courage—she appeared to immediately understand and appreciate the gesture.
More courtiers filtered in, the garden filling with the rustle of silk and the music of conversation. Aurelise’s conducted melodies wove through the air, soft as butterfly wings, creating an atmosphere of gentle enchantment.
Then the temperature seemed to shift, the very air growing somehow more significant, and Aurelise knew without looking that the High Lady had arrived. She turned to offer her deepest curtsy, and her treacherous gaze immediately found Prince Ryden beside his mother.
He wore midnight blue today, the color making his eyes seem impossibly bright, and that familiar smirk played at the corners of his mouth—the one that suggested he knew secrets the rest of the world could only guess at. When their eyes met (curse her weakness for looking), his expression shifted to something more vulnerable. There was a question there, and she could not help but think of all that had transpired in the music room the previous afternoon before she had fled. The memory of his fingers tracing her skin, his lips whispering against her neck, her own arms tightly embracing him as her music enveloped them both—it set her cheeks aflame.
She forced herself to look away, focusing on the High Lady’s serene countenance instead. “Your Grace, Your Highness,” she managed, her voice only slightly breathless.
The High Lady inclined her head graciously, those shrewd eyes taking in every detail of the garden arrangements, though her expression revealed nothing of her thoughts. Prince Ryden bowed, and Aurelise absolutely did not notice how elegantly he moved, or how the afternoon light caught in his hair. She wondered if he’d told his mother of their monumental discoverythe previous afternoon. That Aurelise’s magic had stilled his own. That he was hoping she would?—
No. She had a tea to host.
Drawing herself up, Aurelise moved to stand before the assembled company as the last of her guests were seated. Dare number five whispered through her mind:Keep your eyes up for an entire gathering.Surely she could manage that much. This was not an entire ballroom full of people. It was merely a small gathering. The Crown Court ladies, a few additional courtiers, the High Lady, and the prince. If she could sneak through the palace at night, swim in a lake when she had never previously done more than dip her feet into the shallows, if she could commandeer one of the High Lady’s carriages, flee the palace without permission, and return with her world miraculously still intact, then she could surely manage a simple tea.
She lifted her chin, found Willow’s encouraging smile among the group, and began.
“My lords and ladies,” she said, and if her voice trembled slightly on the first words, it grew stronger with each syllable. “I am deeply honored to welcome you all to this afternoon’s tea.” A pause, a breath, then onward. “When I arrived at Solstice Hall, I confess I felt rather like a small boat set adrift upon a vast and glorious sea. Everything here sparkles with such magnificence, such … such overwhelming grandeur.”
A few knowing smiles appeared among the ladies. They understood that feeling.
“But I have discovered,” Aurelise continued, her music swelling gently beneath her words, “that it is often the smallest wonders that make a place truly bloom. The unexpected kindness of a new friend.” She smiled at Willow. “The perfect cup of tea appearing just when one needs it most. And perhaps most especially …” She glanced toward the roses. “The devoted companionship of those who ask nothing more than to serveand to care for us with their whole hearts.” She raised her hand in a graceful gesture. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome our most honored guests.”
At her signal, the garden erupted in a flurry of movement. From behind bushes and flowers, and from the branches of trees, came a parade of magical creatures. Thimble led the charge, her tiny pink form zipping through the air with wings glittering. Spark followed with considerably less enthusiasm but perfect dignity, emerald scales catching the light. Iridescent moths, foxes, pocket phoenixes, miniature dragons in every jewel tone—dozens of magical companions converged upon the tea party.
The air filled with delighted gasps and surprised laughter as each creature found their designated place. Thimble dove for her velvet cushion with a squeak of joy, while Spark settled onto his perch with an air of dignified composure (though Aurelise caught him eyeing the plate of custard kisses she’d strategically placed within his reach).
“These dear creatures,” Aurelise said, “have made each of us feel welcome in this grand place. They have guided us, shared our laughter, and kept our secrets.” Her voice grew softer, more sincere. “It seemed only fitting that they should be honored as the treasures they truly are.”
Most of the ladies were smiling now, some even cooing over their companions as they settled into their miniature seats. Aurelise did catch Lady Ellowa rolling her eyes, muttering something about ‘unnecessary sentimentality,’ but even she seemed pleased when her silver cat curled itself up on a miniature chaise.
Aurelise risked a glance at the High Lady, desperate for some sign of approval or censure. But the woman’s expression remained as serenely unreadable as always—the same perfect mask of polite interest she’d worn at every tea thus far. It wasPrince Ryden’s expression that caught her off-guard: he was watching her with something that looked almost like … pride? The warmth in his gaze made her stomach perform an alarming flip, and she hastily returned to her table before she could do something foolish like smile back at him.
The tea progressed beautifully. Conversation flowed as freely as the enchanted teapots that never seemed to empty, and Aurelise let her music weave softly through the gathering, a tranquil undercurrent that bound the afternoon together in gentle harmony. The companions were having a marvelous time; she spotted at least three of them sneaking extra cakes, and Thimble had somehow organized what appeared to be a very serious discussion between several of the mouse-dragons about the proper way to hold a tiny teacup. Spark, meanwhile, had stationed himself as guardian of the custard kisses, breathing small puffs of glittery smoke at any creature who dared approach his hoard.
